Ivy Series Teacher Student Romance - Boxed Set: Romance Boxed Sets for Kindle Unlimited (Ivy Series - Teacher Student Romance Book 7)

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘Kiss me,’ I say.

  ‘Sophia—’

  ‘Please.’

  Marc’s hand hesitates on my cheek. His eyes burn. Then slowly, he leans forwards and presses his lips against mine – a long, slow goodnight kiss.

  I love the feeling of his lips. Before I can think about it, my mouth opens and I’m kissing him fully, passionately, reaching around his shoulders to pull him closer.

  ‘God,’ Marc moans into my mouth, kissing me back, pushing me hard into the bed. ‘Sophia, you might regret this.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Marc unbuttons his shirt and flings it off, kissing me harder, sliding his fingers into my hair and clenching his hand into a fist, pulling my hair tight. He moves so his knee comes between my legs and his body weight presses against me.

  My scalp stings where he grips my hair, and he tugs his fist down until I moan.

  ‘Oh, Marc.’

  ‘I’m not going to do what I planned right now,’ Marc murmurs against my mouth. ‘You’re too tired. But I have to see you come.’

  He kisses me harder, clenching his fist tighter. A bruisey pain moves around my scalp and neck, and my head is totally immobilised. I’m held by him, completely in his power, his body weight holding me to the bed.

  Marc pushes his knee harder between my legs while he pins my shoulders to the bed with one hand and grips my hair with the other. I’m getting so wet that I know my panties are almost soaked through.

  ‘Oh god Marc, please,’ I beg. ‘Please fuck me.’

  Marc’s hand moves between my legs and I gasp and moan as he pushes my panties aside and forces three fingers deep inside me in one swift, hard movement.

  ‘Oh,’ I moan.

  He turns his fingers back and forth. Then he slips in a forth finger, and I lose all sense of anything except pleasure building up. I’m sore and full all at the same time, and it feels so good.

  ‘Tell me if this is too much,’ Marc whispers. I feel his thumb push inside me too, and sink into the bed with pleasure and pain.

  ‘It’s ... I think I can take it,’ I gasp. ‘For ... now.’

  Marc pushes further, further inside, his eyes locked on mine.

  I swallow and shake my head, knowing if he twists his hand like he did before, I won’t be able to take it. But he doesn’t move. He stays still, watching me, his eyes fierce.

  ‘One day I’ll have you begging for my whole hand to be inside you,’ he says. ‘But not today.’

  He pulls his hand out in such a rush that I’m left throbbing and desperate for him.

  ‘Fuck me Marc, please,’ I beg.

  8

  Marc undoes his trousers, letting go of my hair to struggle out of them. He takes off his boxers too, and I see him, huge and hard, before he climbs back on top of me.

  His long arm reaches out to grab a condom from the bedside table drawer, and he rips open the foil and stretches latex over himself.

  I open my legs for him, and he groans as he comes into contact with my damp skin. ‘Very accommodating Miss Rose. Very, very accommodating.’

  He teases me for a moment, rubbing his hardness around.

  ‘Please fuck me,’ I say again. ‘Please. Please.’

  Marc thrusts into me. He pushes deep, going all the way inside, further than his fingers could ever manage, reaching dark, sultry places that make my whole body tingle.

  ‘Oh,’ I moan, as he fills me up. He’s pushing against me, all of me, his groin hard against mine, rubbing me inside and out, and I’m pinned to the bed, trapped by him. I know as soon as he moves I’m going to come. But just like before, he holds me still for a moment, teasing.

  ‘I wish I had your self control,’ I whisper.

  Marc’s eyes are fierce, and he replies through gritted teeth, ‘I don’t have much of it left. Believe me.’

  He slides his hand into my hair again and pulls it tight like before.

  ‘Oh god,’ I cry, as he gives my hair a tug.

  He starts to move, and with every stroke he pulls my hair harder, until my head begins to move with him and a delicious, dominant pain spreads down my neck.

  The pain stops me from coming straight away, but oh god ... the pleasure. Every push inside me, every tightening of his hand around my hair, is making me delirious and I’m lost in him, just like always.

  Marc’s eyes don’t leave mine as he pumps back and forth, forcing my head to move with him, causing electric shocks all over my body.

  When he slips his other hand around and grasps my buttocks, forcing his fingers right into the flesh hard enough to bruise, I can’t hold on anymore. I want to scream out with how good it feels.

  ‘Oh, oh,’ I gasp, looking into his eyes and seeing he’s close to coming too.

  ‘Sophia,’ he moans, his eyes melting and softening, his fingers grasping my buttocks so firmly that he’s almost lifting me off the bed.

  He gives one mighty thrust, hitting everything in just the right way.

  And I come.

  In one huge giant wave, my body pushing and pulling all around him. Pleasure flows over me from my scalp all the way down to my feet, and my whole body melts into the bed. Everything feels electric – my scalp, my neck and between my legs.

  As I feel wave after wave of pleasure, I hear Marc’s breathing go sharp and hear something between a shout and a moan as he comes.

  He pushes his body against mine, forcing himself harder between my legs, against my chest.

  I feel his breathing soften as his body releases into me. His nose is nearly touching mine now, his eyes lightly closed, eyelids flickering. His lips fall forwards, giving me the softest, sweetest kiss. I feel warmth all over my body.

  Marc wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto my shoulder so we’re lying side by side. He moves a hand up to gently cradle my head where he was gripping my hair before, his fingers stroking back and forth.

  ‘Not too much?’

  ‘No,’ I murmur. ‘It felt good.’

  ‘I knew it would.’

  There are no more words. I’m too tired to talk. To think. All I can do is feel the warmth of Marc’s arms and body. I press myself close to him and fall into a deep sleep.

  9

  I wake up the next morning to feel sun shining on eyelids, and know instinctively that Marc is no longer lying next to me. My eyes flicker open and I roll over to see an empty, cold space.

  It’s a beautiful, crisp winter day, and the sky is white through the criss-crossed townhouse window. The sun is pale overhead.

  I pull myself up in the bed, feeling the silky duvet fall down over my bare legs. I’m still wearing my panties and a black vest with coloured stars all over it. As memories of last night come back to me, I feel warmth travel up my abdomen.

  What does Marc have planned for me today?

  I shiver at the possibilities.

  There’s a brown trunk in the corner of the room, and I see underwear and a change of clothes laid out on it. My underwear and my clothes. I smile.

  Marc had my clothes couriered over from Ivy College after the whole Giles Getty incident, and he arranged a room in the townhouse to store them all. There’s a bed in that room too, but of course I’ve never slept in it.

  I’m always in Marc’s bedroom.

  Some mornings, I wake up and find Marc lying beside me. He’s always awake and watching me intently, like I’m made of china and about to fall and break. Other mornings, Marc wakes up before me and lays out my clothes. Then I meet him downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.

  When I wake to an empty bed, I find it a little strange. I think, in Marc’s case, leaving me sleeping is a habit left over from the days when he couldn’t let go. When he absolutely had to stay in charge at all times. But he can let go now. At least, most of the time.

  I’m about to climb out of bed when the door creaks, and I’m treated to the sight of a bare-chested Marc Blackwell in grey sweatpants.

  He’s carrying a silver breakfast tray and his floppy brown
hair looks a little damp. As he comes closer, I smell shampoo and cologne.

  ‘Awake at seven on the dot.’ Marc smiles his quirky, deadly smile – the one that has female cinema audiences weak at the knees. His teeth are so perfect, and his lips, the way they curve in that devilish way, are so ... I don’t know the words, but let’s just say that smile does things to me. ‘Your routine is very predictable Miss Rose.’

  ‘Marc, I haven’t showered yet.’ I’m feeling sleep dirty and wish I could brush my teeth before he comes any nearer. When we wake up in bed together, I don’t care that I haven’t washed. But if he’s already showered, I want to take a shower too.

  ‘I like you when you haven’t showered.’ Marc places the tray on the end of the bed. ‘I love the way you smell.’ His low voice hits me in all the right places. ‘I want you to eat well this morning. You’ll be needing your stamina.’

  ‘Oh?’ I raise a teasing eyebrow. ‘What for?’

  ‘What would be the fun if I told you? Eat.’

  On the tray, I see a bowl of porridge topped with crispy bacon, maple syrup and pumpkin seeds. There’s also a plate of Eggs Benedict decorated with a sprig of parsley, under a glass cloche. And a bowl of fresh strawberries and yoghurt. Wow. There’s a lot to eat.

  Next to the porridge and eggs stand two cut crystal glasses – one full of pink grapefruit juice, the other holding a stem of ivy.

  I smile at the ivy. ‘Did you pick that from your garden?’ I ask.

  ‘Your garden,’ says Marc, sitting beside me on the bed and arranging my hair around my shoulders. ‘There’s no question who it belongs to now.’

  I feel myself grinning. ‘I love it out there. There’s so much more I’d like to do.’

  ‘Write a list of any plants you need. Equipment. I’ll have Rodney take care of it. Now eat.’

  ‘It looks amazing,’ I say. ‘But ... there’s so much. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage everything.’

  ‘Last night was a long night, and you need to replenish yourself. I have plans for you this morning. Plans that require stamina.’ Marc raises an eyebrow.

  My stomach flips over, remembering the ‘plans’ he spoke about last night. When it’s finished flipping, I slide the tray of food towards me.

  I pick up a silver spoon with square edges and dip it into the porridge.

  ‘Mmm,’ I say, taking a mouthful and realising how hungry I am. ‘Delicious.’ The porridge is laced with cream and warm maple syrup. More like a dessert than a breakfast, but it feels like exactly what I need this morning. Marc’s right – I used up a lot of energy yesterday, one way or another.

  ‘Try the bacon with it,’ says Marc, holding up a crispy strip.

  ‘I’ve never had bacon with porridge before,’ I admit. ‘Does it go?’

  ‘Better than you’d imagine.’ Marc holds the bacon to my lips and I take a little bite. He’s right, of course. It goes perfectly with the rich porridge and maple syrup. I lean closer, taking another bite that snaps near his fingers.

  ‘Careful Miss Rose,’ says Marc with a smile.

  ‘You’re allowed to hurt me, but I can’t hurt you?’ I throw back, playfully.

  ‘I don’t hurt you. I test your limits to heighten your enjoyment.’ Marc’s eyes darken and fix on mine. ‘I’d put you over my knee and spank you at the slightest opportunity. Do you know why?’

  ‘Why?’ I squeak, swallowing bacon.

  ‘Because it would make you come over and over again.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I can see it in your eyes right now. And by the way your neck and chest have flushed, and your voice has gone up a key. But I’ve got more planned for you today than just a spanking. Believe me. I’ve had a length of silk rope ordered especially.’

  Oh. God. My desire is written all over my face, I know it is. Part of me hates the fact Marc can turn me on so easily by talking about spanking and tying me up.

  I have no idea if I’d be turned on by all this dark, subversive sex if I hadn’t met Marc, or whether I like it because of Marc. I guess it doesn’t matter. I love him and loving him has awakened things in me.

  Now that Marc has let go with me, I love him so much that sometimes I can hardly breathe.

  When we’re making love, I feel like we become one person. I trust him completely. Totally. I want to be part of him, always. The fact he takes pleasure from dominating me, and the fact I love him dominating me, well – it just shows how much we’re made for each other.

  There’s a bleeping sound, and I see a flash of white through the grey cotton of Marc’s sweat pant pocket.

  Marc frowns and slides out the phone, glaring at the screen.

  I feel myself frown too, because he looks so serious all of a sudden. A world away from that beautiful, sexy grin he gave me when he came into the room.

  ‘Marc?’

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flick back and forth over the screen.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.

  Marc stands. ‘Finish your breakfast. I have to deal with this. I’ll be back soon.’ He stalks out of the bedroom.

  I stare at the door as it bangs shut, wondering what on earth is going on.

  10

  I sit watching the door for a while, puzzling over what Marc’s message could be. But after a few minutes, delicious breakfast smells start teasing my nostrils and hunger prods and pokes at me.

  God, I’m famished. I really am.

  I begin spooning up porridge and crunching on strips of streaky bacon, feeling warm maple syrup and creamy oats roll around my mouth.

  When the porridge is done, I lift the glass cloche from the Eggs Benedict and dig in with a silver knife and fork.

  Wow. The poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce taste so good, and underneath salty, warm ham tops two soft English muffins. I don’t think, when I start eating, that I’ll be able to finish the plate, but I do with ease, mopping up the Hollandaise with a square of bakery fresh muffin.

  I finish up the strawberries and yoghurt too, washing them down with the freshest, cleanest glass of pink grapefruit juice I’ve ever tasted.

  As usual, Marc knows what I want and need better than I do.

  When I’m finished, I slide the tray away and lie back on the firm mattress. My body feels relaxed and happy and full of food, but pretty soon my mind begins running an obstacle course again. What was Marc’s sudden exit all about?

  I just can’t imagine that Marc could ever slip back into his old, dark ways. We’re so close now. My heart tells me not to worry – at least not on the ‘Marc growing cold’ front.

  My head, on the other hand, begins its usual run through of all the reasons why it’s crazy that Marc and I are together. After all, he could have pretty much any woman he wanted.

  I remember the pictures of Marc with gorgeous models and Hollywood actresses on his arm. Of course, that was way before we got together. But god, I wish I’d never seen those pictures. Compared to those women, I’m nothing.

  Shut up Sophia. You’ll drive yourself crazy.

  I snap my eyes closed and try to chase all my horrible, ugly insecure feelings away. But sometimes it’s tough. Coming from where I came from, it’s hard to believe that I can truly stay where I am now – in the home of a billionaire, who also just happens to be drop dead gorgeous. Oh, and I shouldn’t forget that I’m also playing a leading role in a major West End musical beside Leo Falkirk.

  God, life is crazy sometimes.

  I hear the bang of hard feet on the staircase and sit up straighter.

  The bedroom door springs open.

  Marc strides towards me, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

  ‘Marc?’ I swing my legs from the bed.

  ‘Sophia, there have been some developments. I think now would be a good time for you to visit your father for a few days.’

  ‘I’m going to stay with him tomorrow. After the Christmas Eve performance. Leo and I were planning on going over a few songs today. At t
he theatre. Remember?’

  Marc’s face darkens. He stalks back and forth, then turns to me. ‘Fine. But when you finish your performance tonight, you’re to go straight to your father’s house. Keith will drive you there. I’ll have your things sent over today.’

  ‘Marc, what’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing for you to be concerned about. But it’s best you stay at your father’s place right now. What time did you arrange to meet Leo?’

  ‘I didn’t. You know Leo, he’s a “let’s wait and see” kind of guy. We said we’d play it by ear.’

  ‘Phone him now and see if he wants to meet in the next hour. If he agrees, I’ll have you taken to the theatre. You’re to stay there until after your performance.’ Marc begins pacing again.

  ‘Marc. This is crazy. You want me to go and spend time with Leo? Last night, you were acting sort of jealous.’

  ‘Jealous?’ Marc’s eyebrow twitches. ‘Of Leo Falkirk? Do I have something to be jealous about?’ His voice is low and foreboding.

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘I’m protective of you where other men are concerned,’ Marc growls. ‘Especially irresponsible men. I didn’t like Leo putting his hands on you last night. And I don’t like the thought of him entertaining you in his dressing room, away from everyone else. Anything could happen.’

  I laugh. ‘But it wouldn’t.’

  ‘You might not want something to happen, but he might.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning all I know of Leo Falkirk is that he’s a boy in a man’s body. I don’t trust him to behave responsibly.’

  ‘Well I do,’ I say, standing. ‘He’s a good guy.’

  Marc comes closer to the bed, towering over me. ‘If he ever touches you against your wishes, I’ll kill him.’

  I feel Marc’s hand come into my hair, but I turn away so his fingers slide free. ‘He wouldn’t. I told you. I know him.’

  A frown cuts into Marc’s forehead. ‘How well do you know him?’ His words have a dangerous edge to them.

  ‘Well enough to know he’d never hurt me.’