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

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘No,’ Tanya interrupts. ‘No need to rush into anything. We’ll finish college before we start thinking about anything like that.’

  ‘Promise you’ll invite me when you finally do decide to get married,’ I say, with a teasing smile.

  ‘Of course!’ says Tom.

  Tanya rolls her eyes. ‘Thanks for that. He’ll be looking at wedding suits before you know it.’

  ‘Speaking of weddings,’ I say. ‘Jen and Tanya, would you do me the honour of being my bridesmaids?’

  ‘As if you even need to ask,’ says Jen.

  Tanya grins. ‘Of course, Soph!’

  ‘And Tom, I’d like you to be my bridesmaid too,’ I add.

  Tom laughs. ‘Sophia, perhaps you’re a little confused. It may not be obvious to everyone, considering my flamboyant choice of outfits, but I’m a man.’

  Tanya and I laugh.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘But I think we can break with tradition for your sake.’

  ‘I’d be delighted to be your bridesmaid,’ says Tom. ‘But I have another idea. How about I conduct the ceremony? I did it for my cousin last year, so I’m very familiar with the procedure. I’d be delighted to stand before you and Marc and help you say your vows.’

  I smile. ‘I can’t think of anything more perfect.’

  ‘Who would have thought it?’ says Tom. ‘Sophia Rose marrying Marc Blackwell. And living happily ever after.’

  Once we’re inside the house, we all sit on Mum’s sofa and the collection of thrift-store armchairs I’ve reupholstered. Marc and I are squeezed onto an armchair, me on his lap, our fingers woven tightly together.

  Rodney brings in a tray of tea and freshly baked shortbread biscuits.

  ‘Soph?’ Jen asks. ‘Will you be inviting Leo to the wedding?’

  ‘I hadn’t even thought about who I was going to invite,’ I admit. ‘But ... yes, of course I’ll invite Leo. He’s my friend. A good friend. And that’s exactly who I want at the wedding. Good friends.’ I turn to Marc. ‘Are you okay with that?’

  ‘I’m okay with that,’ says Marc, his blue eyes flashing me a beautifully intense look.

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Honestly. The more friends you have, the more people are around to take care of you.’

  I turn back to Jen. ‘So there you go. You can bring your date along.’

  We smile at each other, both knowing that Leo is much more than Jen’s date these days. The two of them can’t stay away from each other. Leo has bought an apartment in London, and Jen spends almost every night there.

  As we’re all chatting and catching up, I notice Annabel is a little quiet – but happy quiet. She’s had a smile on her face since she arrived on the doorstep.

  Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Annabel?’ I ask. ‘Social services were going to give you an update this week. Have they called you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s good news. But I’ll tell you another time. This is your big moment.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say. ‘Just tell me your news.’

  Annabel’s smile grows, and for the first time since I’ve met her, I see teeth appear from behind her lips. They’re white and straight like Marc’s.

  ‘I’m getting Daniel back.’

  I screech and throw my hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my GOD! Annabel, that’s wonderful. So, so wonderful.’

  I head towards her and give her a big hug. She starts crying, and I feel warm tears on my own cheeks too.

  ‘It was all thanks to you,’ Annabel whispers, her voice croaky with tears.

  ‘No,’ I insist. ‘You’ve beaten a drug that kills most people. And you’ve proven you’re strong enough to be a mother. I’m so happy for you.’

  79

  A few weeks later, my head is swimming with wedding plans. I never knew there was so much to organise.

  I’m so grateful Jen is my friend. She’s good at all the things I’m really bad at, like planning and organisation, and she knows all the things that are needed at weddings, like cake and photographers and invitations.

  I’ve tried to keep everything as simple as possible, but there’s still a lot to do. I never realised a wedding was so much work.

  Jen has been going on and on at me about choosing a venue, and over the weekend I finally worked out the perfect place. The only place, in fact, where I could imagine marrying Marc.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Jen asks, her high heels stumbling over the muddy ground. ‘This is where you want your wedding? Your once in a lifetime, big show off party?’

  ‘Positive,’ I say, linking arms with her. ‘Wait until you see exactly where I want the ceremony. You’ll love it too.’

  I lead her along the woodland path, past bright green feathering ferns and under towering trees.

  Jen sighs. ‘You and your trees, Sophia Rose. You could get married anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Your boyfriend is a billionaire. And where do you choose? The woods behind Ivy College.’

  I smile. ‘I know. Isn’t it perfect? Come on.’ I lead Jen further into the woods. ‘I can’t wait for you to see the spot.’

  Jen folds up her linen suit trousers, rolls her eyes good-naturedly and follows me along the path.

  The path weaves around a huge sycamore tree, then opens out into the most amazing circular space, under a beautiful canopy of trees.

  ‘This is it,’ I say, standing back so Jen can see the space. ‘This is where I want to get married.

  My mum used to call spaces like these ‘fairy circles’. They’re natural round clearings in the woods, and they’re always surrounded by wild flowers and green shoots of grass.

  Birds twitter and hop among the branches overhead, and a squirrel scurries up a tree as we approach.

  We both stand for a moment under the bright green leaves, listening to bird song and smelling leaves and fresh soil.

  ‘Soph,’ Jen breathes. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. So beautiful.’

  ‘I thought we could marry in the woods,’ I say, ‘and then have a picnic on the lawns around the college. It’s the summer holidays, so the college is empty. All the guests can stay in the visitor accommodation block.’

  ‘Oh Soph, that sounds brilliant,’ says Jen. ‘Truly. Of course, we’ll have to have marquees on standby in case it rains. And some sort of contingency plan in case the paths here get too muddy—’

  ‘It won’t rain,’ I say. ‘I know it won’t.’

  80

  When it comes to the night before the wedding, I don’t want to be separated from Marc until the last possible moment.

  I’m booked into the Ambassador Room at Ivy College so I won’t have to travel on my wedding day, but Marc is staying there with me until midnight. We’ve had enough separation this year to last a lifetime.

  When Marc and I arrive at the room, I’m blown away. It’s a huge ground floor suite that overlooks the lawns and woodlands, and it has ‘his and her’ bathrooms and a huge Jacuzzi pool.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ I tell Marc, as he places my rucksack on the leather luggage rack.

  I notice a huge white cellophane bag on my bed and run my fingers over the thick plastic.

  My wedding dress has been delivered.

  ‘Don’t go peaking in this bag, will you?’ I tease, picking up the hanger and heading for the wardrobe. ‘I’m superstitious, if you hadn’t worked it out already.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of your superstitions,’ says Marc, raising an eyebrow. ‘If it was down to me, we’d be sleeping in the same bed tonight.’

  He’s wearing loose grey cargo trousers and a plain black hoodie. I love that he can transform from James Bond smart to action hero casual, and still look equally mesmerising and handsome.

  I’m wearing a light summer dress made of crumpled linen fabric and embroidered with butterflies.

  My feet are bare, since I kicked off my sandals the moment we came into the room. I love having bare feet in summer.
<
br />   My hair is loosely plaited down my back, but as usual, some of it is struggling to escape, and tendrils fall around my face.

  ‘Why tempt bad luck?’ I say.

  ‘I don’t believe in bad luck. Not with you around.’

  Marc opens the French doors and leads me onto the huge ground-floor balcony.

  When I see what’s waiting on the wooden table outside, I put a hand to my mouth.

  ‘Marc.’

  Resting on the varnished wood, beside a bottle of red wine and two gleaming glasses, is an astonishingly beautiful bouquet of flowers.

  ‘Your wedding bouquet,’ says Marc with a smile. ‘You don’t believe it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bouquet before the wedding, do you?’

  The bouquet is a soft and glimmering orb of ivy, woven with the reddest roses I’ve ever seen. The ivy and roses are so fresh and natural looking it’s as if the bouquet could be growing wild in the woods.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘That’s one superstition I’ve never heard of.’

  81

  We drink wine and watch the sun set over Ivy College.

  It’s a beautiful warm evening, and the red sky tells me what I already knew – that tomorrow will be perfect sunshine for our wedding.

  Marc and I talk and tease and laugh about how we first met. Thinking back to those early days feels so unreal now. It’s almost like we’re two different people.

  ‘Tell me again what you thought of me at my audition,’ I ask Marc, with a teasing smile.

  ‘You know what I thought of you,’ says Marc, pouring more wine into my glass. ‘I thought you were astonishing.’

  I grin. ‘Funny. Because you couldn’t have been colder towards me. I thought you were angry with me. That my audition hadn’t pleased you.’

  ‘I was a master at hiding my feelings back then,’ says Marc. ‘But now, I’m not so good.’ He takes my hands and begins running his thumbs back and forth over my palms, pressing in hard, firm strokes. ‘Do you want to know what I’m feeling right now?’ His eyes have that primal, hunter look in them.

  I laugh. ‘It’s pretty obvious.’

  ‘I’ll be gentle. I promise.’

  ‘You don’t have to be.’

  Ever since Marc rescued me from PAIN and moved me into the farmhouse, we’ve had the most amazing, loving, caring sex, and it’s been very beautiful. But ... I like the other side of Marc too.

  ‘I’ve missed your dark side,’ I say.

  Marc throws me that delicious, devilish smile of his. ‘My dark side?’

  ‘Yes. You know what I mean.’

  ‘I thought. After PAIN ...’

  ‘What PAIN did is a world away from what we do together in the bedroom. You dominating me is part of who you are. Who we are. It’s why we fit so well.’

  Marc frowns. The square shape of his pale jaw and the sharp lines of his angular face are so beautiful in the setting sunlight. I find myself, as usual, slightly dazed by his handsomeness.

  ‘Come inside,’ says Marc, his voice dropping several notes. ‘Now.’

  He takes my hand.

  I stand, following Marc inside. He closes the French doors and draws the curtains.

  ‘Hmmm ...’ Marc scoops me up and lays me onto the bed. The linen is crisp and smells like apples. ‘Stay there for a moment. I’ll be back.’

  82

  After ten minutes or so, I hear the bedroom door opening again.

  Marc strides into the room.

  My thighs tighten when I see what he’s holding.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ I ask.

  ‘The prop store behind Queen’s Theatre.’ He’s holding a cane – a swishy bamboo rod with bumps all along it. ‘I’m only sorry I didn’t bring the silk rope with me that I ordered all those months ago.’

  Sensing me watching, Marc holds out the cane and flexes it between his fingers.

  ‘Is this an early wedding present?’ I breathe, feeling my lips stretch into a smile.

  Marc comes to the bed, his beautiful spiky lips twitching into a smile. ‘No. This isn’t the present. What comes next is the present. Lie back on the bed.’

  I rest onto the pillow, my eyes not leaving Marc’s. He’s got that wicked, deadly look on his face again. The one that leaves me weak at the knees. The one that has me begging for more.

  Marc lifts the cane and swishes it through the air. Then he smacks it against his palm.

  CRACK!

  Oh. How can that little sound make me wet already? But it does.

  ‘Are you sure you still want this side of me?’ Marc asks. ‘After everything that’s happened?’

  ‘Positive,’ I breathe, watching the cane as Marc rolls it between his fingers.

  Marc lifts my dress with the yellow tip.

  ‘Off,’ he instructs.

  I struggle out of my dress and lie back on the bed in my underwear – the fairytale set that Marc bought me when we took a trip to his island.

  Marc smacks the cane down hard on the bedside table, and a resounding crack echoes through the air.

  God, I’m wet now and getting wetter by the minute.

  Marc prowls around the bed, swishing the cane back and forth. I squirm a little when I see the outline in his cargo trousers. Huge and hard and fighting to escape.

  I feel the tip of the cane at the waistband of my panties. Marc flicks the rod under the elastic, pulling it taut and letting the waistband snap back against my skin.

  ‘Oh,’ I moan.

  ‘Those too.’

  I reach down to pull my panties off, but Marc smacks my fingers lightly with the cane.

  I yelp and pull my fingers back.

  ‘Yes sir,’ he prompts.

  ‘Yes sir,’ I say, putting my smarting hand to my mouth.

  ‘Take them off.’

  I wiggle out of my panties and watch Marc as he continues to prowl around the bed.

  ‘Roll over.’

  I roll onto my belly, hearing his footsteps still moving around the bed. I hear his deep breathing and try to work out where he is as he moves. Then I feel the tip of the cane under my bra strap.

  ‘This too.’

  I undo my bra and pull it over my arms, then fall onto the duvet again, my head still pushed face down into the pillow. I can hear my own breathing and feel the heat of my breath against my face.

  Marc stops moving and there’s silence.

  ‘Marc?’ I whisper into the pillow. ‘Are you still there?’

  CRACK! Marc whacks the cane against the bedside table again.

  ‘I didn’t say you could speak.’

  Oh god, that sounds good.

  CRACK!

  There it goes again, and now I’m desperate for him.

  ‘Keep still,’ Marc barks, and I hear him pacing.

  I wait, growing wetter by the minute.

  ‘Spread your legs,’ Marc instructs, slipping the cane between my thighs. ‘Now.’

  I moan and move my legs apart.

  CRACK!

  This time, Marc smacks the cane hard against my left buttock and I leap an inch from the bed, giving another little yelp.

  I hear the swish of the cane and then, CRACK! It comes down hard on my other buttock.

  CRACK!

  The cane comes down once more on both buttocks, and I flinch in pain – but good pain. I want this so badly. I’ve been waiting for this side of Marc to come out again, and it feels so good.

  ‘Roll over,’ Marc instructs.

  I do, rubbing my stinging buttocks. My bra stays on the bed as I roll over, so I when I face Marc I’m completely naked.

  I look up at him, and see he’s naked too.

  ‘How did you take your clothes off so fast?’ I ask breathlessly, taking in his muscular, naked body – the taut lines of his arms, the cut of his abs, his flawless pale skin and the light covering of brown hair on his chest.

  I notice that between his legs he is hard and firm, and so, so huge. Looking at him I wonder, as I often do, how on earth he�
�ll fit inside me.

  Marc’s lips curve into a dangerous smile. ‘Don’t you know not to speak until you’re spoken to?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  Marc comes closer and holds the cane up over my thighs.

  He brings the cane down fast, but stops inches from my skin.

  I flinch, waiting for the blow that doesn’t come. I moan as I watch the cane hover over my legs.

  Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Did you want something?’

  ‘Hit me. Please.’

  Marc gives me that devilish smile and raises the cane. Then he brings it down hard, CRACK, on my thighs, and I moan with pleasure.

  As the stinging sensation spreads up my legs, Marc picks up my ankles and rests them over his firm shoulders. Then he runs the cane up my inner thigh, and slowly strokes up, up, up until it reaches between my legs.

  I’m so wet that when he begins to slide the cane back and forth between my legs and buttocks, it slips easily up and down, and I moan as I feel the hard joins of the bamboo roll over me, bump, bump, bump.

  Just as I’m going insane with the pleasure of it all, Marc slides the cane out from between my legs and rests the tip on my stomach. Slowly, he traces a snaking line back and forth across my belly, and I shudder and shiver as the cane moves up my body.

  When the cane reaches my breasts, Marc slides the cane roughly across my nipples, back and forth, back and forth, the joins pushing and pulling at my skin.

  Oh god. It’s beautiful, delicious teasing agony, but I need more.

  ‘Hit me,’ I beg him. ‘Please.’

  83

  ‘I don’t think you can take it,’ Marc says, stroking the cane back and forth.

  I nod quickly. ‘I can. I can.’

  ‘I would never take you beyond your limits. You know that, don’t you?’ Marc lifts the cane high above my breasts.

  ‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘But my boundaries are well and truly stretched.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Marc brings the cane down, once, twice, three times on my breasts, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

  ‘Oh god, oh god,’ I moan, as my nipples burn white hot and a stinging sensation creeps over my breasts and chest. ‘More. Give me more.’ I roll over.