by Fiona Murphy
Usually, I sleep naked. However, tonight I will require assistance to keep my cock down. Ignoring her frown, I go into my walk-in closet. I had Lilly air out the guest bedroom for me to sleep in tonight. I’m down to my boxers when she appears.
“Ivan, what the hell?”
Damn it, she’s naked and I cannot hide how hard it makes me.
“I swear it’s like you’re trying to piss me off. What am I even doing here if you are going to sleep in another room? I’m fine. I swear, please don’t sleep anywhere else.”
I back away as the witch reaches for my cock. I cannot think when she does that. The skill of her mouth after only a few guided lessons, combined with her greedy joy in taking me into her mouth, is nothing short of stunning.
Her smile is sly, knowing. “You know what? It’s fine, I get it. Men of a certain age have a hard time...or maybe not hard—anyway. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. All you had to do was say you had a headache or something.”
I have no control of the growl that leaves my throat. How the fuck does she do this to me? Make me a fucking animal. I am not nor have I ever been this way with any woman. They barely inspired lust; all I needed was a release from them.
Christina unleashes something in me I do not recognize. Even my need to control is heightened beyond my previous limits. In the past, control over a woman increased my pleasure; it was not necessary, but the release was greater when the woman welcomed it. Not every woman did and I always respected their wishes. It was always the last time I fucked them, but in the moment what they wanted was what I gave them.
Once, long ago, I made a brief appearance into the lifestyle of control and submission, yet it was far more complex than I required. I found it more annoying than erotic. There were far more woman in the everyday who loved the slight control I needed. Yet with Christina, seeing her glory in it... Christ, I will never not get hard at it.
My hand around her throat has her sinking against me with a groan. “You test my limits again and again. You tease me when it is unwise to do so.”
I walk her, not gently in the slightest, to the mirror lining one wall. Turning her to face her reflection, I keep my grip tight on her throat. Lowering my lips to her ear, I ignore her gasp and the scent of her wet pussy flooding the air around us.
Fucking hell, it goes straight to my cock. The greedy bastard jumps, demanding to be inside her. Thank fuck for the cool tightness of the silk boxers restraining me.
“If you are lying to me, I will know. You cannot hide anything from me. You are saying you are not sore, that if I fuck you, I will not hurt you. I told you no one hurts you, not even me. If I detect you are too sore to be fucked, then I will spank the fuck out of you and you will not like this punishment. It will be the tip of the iceberg for once you are able to take my cock again.
“Last chance to tell the truth. Do you go back to bed alone for one night, or do I test your words for the truth: that if I fuck you, I will not cause you pain?”
Her throat works beneath my fingers. Holy hell, her pussy overflows down her inner thighs. My hand clenches around her throat in reaction. She better not be lying, because fuck me I need to taste her pussy.
“I’m not lying. Please, Ivan,” she pleads.
Taking a deep breath, I let go of her throat. I bite back a chuckle as she falls against me. Dazed, her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Catching her wrists, I raise them over her head and around my neck. She clings to me, fine shivers running through her. Her whole body is open, displayed to me, perfect.
I could come from simply looking at her body. Trailing my hands down her arms, savoring her soft, silky skin beneath my fingertips. She sighs as her hands go into my hair. I slap the swollen mound of her pussy; already her sex is hot and swollen, preparing for my cock.
“Eyes open, on me.”
She yelps, her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Then she tries to grind her ass against me. I kick a foot between her legs, forcing her open wider. I am determined to know for sure. As badly as I want her, I will not take my pleasure and leave her in pain. The idea of her in pain softens my cock; it will not happen, no matter how much she begs.
Her eyes are wide open, pleading with me. I cup a full, heavy breast in each hand. Their weight is infinitely precious as they swell, her sweet cotton candy nipples tight with need. Running my finger around a nipple, lightly teasing her, I study her body. She tries to move against me.
“Behave, love, do not make this last longer than it has to.”
I slowly apply more pressure in my touch. No pain in her eyes, just lust. Carefully, I twist and toy with each nipple, tugging and teasing until I am satisfied it does not pain her.
“No pain here, good girl.”
Her eyes glow with the pleasure my words give her. I am aware she is surprised by her desire to please, to be controlled. It is incredibly erotic how she gives herself up to the need, to me. I am honored by her trust in me. I cannot deny my need to suck deep on the soft skin of her ear.
A moan from deep within her chest escapes her as I allow my hands to trail down her body, unable to stop from inspecting the marks I have left on her body as I do. Her breath comes in sharp little pants as I draw within inches of her delicious pussy.
Bare, not at all what I expected, and so fucking sexy. I trace over her reddened mound beneath my fingertips. I do not take my eyes off her, determined to detect if pain lingers within her. Her hips tilt up as she whimpers my name.
“I see it, love, your pussy dripping down your inner thighs. Such a waste.” I edge her legs wider apart. Swollen, thick, her folds hide the most drool-worthy pussy I have ever tasted. Hours, I could feast on her for hours, soon.
Running a finger along her lower lips, my mouth fills with greedy need to taste her. Her body is trembling as I sink my middle finger into her. Hot, so fucking hot, and so damn tight.
Yesterday, the plan had been to fuck her until she was sore. I never envisioned spending hours inside her. Yet I simply could not bear to pull out of her. Deliciously tight, my cock felt at home in her, and I could not leave her. Closing my eyes tight, I’m fighting every cell in my body to not bend her over and bury my cock deep.
“Ivan,” she whispers in a singsong voice, teasing me. Smiling, knowing what she does to me. “Eyes open.”
Brat. I nip at the edge of her ear. Her eyes glow in response. I push another finger into her, she chokes at how deep they go. Thank fucking god there is not a single flicker of pain in her eyes or her body. Not so quick, Ivan.
Turning my hand, I search out that precious tender spot I had caressed often yesterday. All it brings is a gasp of need, no pain. I lick the soft flesh where her shoulder meets her neck, caressing the spot as I do.
“What a good girl you are. Now you will get the reward you have been panting for. A sweet little orgasm before the main course of fucking you until you scream my name.”
Firm pressure has her coming apart in only seconds. I catch her as she falls. Swinging her up into my arms, I walk her to bed. Tempering my hunger is not easy, but I refuse to lose control as I did yesterday.
I can give pleasure without being rough, without causing her pain. Rough and painful has its place, and as much as she enjoys it, I will give it to her in the future. Just not tonight, not this time. I lay awake for hours last night, holding her, imagining this.
I have given up figuring out what it is about her that makes her so different. It does not matter. All that matters is that she is. Not every question has an answer.
15
Christina
Inhaling my second cup of coffee, I now understand the appeal of cocaine. Ivan kept me up late last night, again. The really annoying thing is, I don’t resent it at all. The man is addictive. I cannot get enough of him. The only thing I kind of resent is how well he functions on only a few hours of sleep. He’s always up before me, leaving me to sleep until the last minute.
I love the way he wakes me up with soft kisses, then hands me my coffee to get me m
oving, my shower is running, and he doesn’t tease me or give me a hard time for being a little slower or cranky in the morning. Besides waking up in his arms, I can’t think of a better way of starting my morning.
Another yawn overtakes me, I’m glad it’s Friday. I bring up Ivan’s calendar for the day. “What’s this at noon? Ivan and me out for two hours?” I ask Tim.
“I love how little conversation you two have. He said it was a shopping trip, if I needed to reach out to him that I could.”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. We do so much talking sometimes I wonder how Ivan keeps track of every minute detail he draws out of me. Once we even had the conversation, the normal one every couple should have, but with Ivan it felt like walking through a landmine. I was happy crying like an idiot over a video Anna sent me about a baby having glasses put on for the first time, how happy she looked to see her mom. Ivan stared intently at me.
“You want children.” As he does so often, it was a question that wasn’t a question.
Shrugging, I nodded. It took a while to work up the nerve. “And you?”
“I rather feel like I have already done it.”
I was confused.
“With Gemma and Hannah, I was their primary caretaker. I fed them, changed them, got up with them in the middle of the night. When they got older, I helped them with their homework and worried about buying them shoes. It was immensely stressful. The desire to procreate is not something I have experienced.”
Did he see the agony I felt at his answer?
“I am not saying no to the idea. I am simply saying I have not experienced the desire for children myself.”
So it wasn’t a no. When he pulled me into his arms, I went freely, with hope.
Closing my eyes, I look at the change in the calendar. I’m not surprised Ivan didn’t tell me because for all the talking we do at home, none of it ever has to do with work. He’s adamant work stays separate.
Once I got the idea for an acquisition and tried to talk to him about it. He flat refused to discuss it, telling me to save it for the office. When I tried to keep talking, he shut me up by forcing me on my knees and filling my mouth with his cock. So. Fucking. Hot.
“Two minutes,” I mutter before I go into Ivan’s office even though he doesn’t like me in there. All he can think about is fucking me and it’s too hard to concentrate on work when I’m with him, he explained, clearly annoyed—with me or himself, he never said.
Tim’s response is to laugh because it’s never two minutes. I close the door when I go in, not wanting Tim to hear us argue. I’m not going shopping. I have enough clothes to last me until I’m forty.
While, yes, most of my clothes are still at home, I planned to go there tomorrow to get what I want to take to England with me. I’m not looking forward to it. I have called Abuelo every night this week, but he wouldn’t talk to me. Tomorrow, I won’t give him a choice, and hopefully once I’m back he will stop being such an ass. Oddly, I can’t dredge up any angst over the situation with him. We’ll work it out, and if we don’t...then we don’t.
Ivan’s head comes up at the sound of me turning the lock. An eyebrow raises as he leans back in his chair. “Do not start something you are unable to finish, love.”
Okay, I know “love” is one of those terms of endearments British people throw around, but every single time he says it my heart skips. He uses it far more often than he does “poppet,” which puts a smile on my face every time.
“I’m not going shopping.” I make it to the front of his desk and cross my arms, ready to do battle.
He does that breathy exhalation laugh thing as he shakes his head. Black, unforgiving, unending, his eyes meet mine. “Yes, you are. While we are in Manchester we will be attending no less than five formal events, not including the two wedding ceremonies.
“Aari is a multi-millionaire.” It’s the first time Ivan’s mentioned Gemma’s fiancé. “His parents, not quite but close. Designer dresses will be everywhere. I think you are far more gorgeous in the yoga pants and my shirts you love to wear so much than any woman has a right to be. You do not. Every time you make the least amount of effort, you outshine every woman around you, yet you still shrink when another well-dressed woman who could not compare to you gives you a hard glare.”
His jaw hardens. “Mishka is a vicious little viper in the best of times. I will not allow you to feel anything but beautiful while dealing with her. You are going shopping and you are going to spend so much money it would make a lesser man weep.
“Then you are going to be a good little girl and wear those clothes with the confidence of a woman who feels she is as beautiful as I know she is. I will not even bitch about you wearing makeup, but I will be more rewarding if you do not.”
I blink, finally. Cutting the connection is painful but necessary as my head goes down. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want to run fast and far and find a hole to bury myself deep. Only we are long past that and he’d follow, and he’d find me and he will know. I won’t be able to hide it. There is a part of me terrified I’m not hiding it enough now.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m behind his desk. He pushes away, giving me the room I need. He shakes his head, tries to catch my hand when I reach for him.
“Christ, Christina, not here.” He groans as I go down on my knees and my other hand moves fast to free him.
I do the only thing I can: I show him what I can’t tell him. How is this a bad thing? Why do women complain about this? I love this so fucking much, the taste of him, the feel of him, knowing I’m driving him out of his mind, feeling his body tense and shiver.
Maybe if this was all he wanted or he demanded from me, I wouldn’t like it as much. But I was more likely than Ivan to want this. If he was worried he wouldn’t last long, he sometimes started by guiding my mouth to him. Except he admitted it wasn’t as helpful as he thought it would be because watching me get so turned while I did it was even better sometimes than my mouth. I was embarrassed at first about touching myself in front of him; that faded fast when Ivan urged me on, whispering the most dirty, filthy words about hot it was.
As he always does, he takes over in the end, his hands going into my hair, holding me in place. Even this part, his release, I never flinch from it, never consider anything other than taking everything he gives me. It’s his pleasure I savor, the knowledge of how good I make him feel. I get it now, when he said pleasure is at its ultimate when it is goes both ways.
His hands soften, cupping my face, he draws me to him. Settling me into his lap, he holds me close. Slowly, thoroughly, his mouth is owning every inch of me. This part, the end is almost as good as all the rest when he pulls me into his arms, holding me close, his kisses soft and gentle, lingering over my mouth, my face, my neck. The way his gravel voice becomes soft as he tells me how much I please him, how grateful he is for me, and laughs at the way I blush.
“Eight years I have had this office; never once have I even imagined doing this until you came crashing into my life. Now, you are going to pay the price. If I cannot find someone fast, you will be doing this on a daily basis. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”
I laugh as I kiss his cheek.
“I look forward to it,” I promise him, running a finger down his scar. I haven’t asked about it even though I desperately want to know everything. I won’t. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. He hasn’t talked about the abuse he suffered from his mother’s boyfriend. The memories, the past he shared mainly had to do with his sisters and their life in Manchester. Rarely did he mention his mother or the hardships he went through.
“I am most serious. It is hard enough to get any work done with you so close. Knowing you are willing, that you want this too, is a distraction I do not need.”
“How does that make you so grumpy? Poor Ivan, a woman willing and greedy for your cock. Only you would complain. No one would know to look at you that you just had your cock most thoroughly sucked. How I can still taste you on my tongue,” I
taunt him.
A growl and he’s ravaging my mouth, sucking deep on my tongue. My butt hits his desk with a thump. He’s in between my legs and his mouth is on me before I can even breathe.
I’m so close it doesn’t take long before I’m fighting not to scream as I come. Ivan doesn’t even slow down; holy crap, this man is gifted. If only he would stop before I was in tears, it would be absolutely—oh fucking god. His hand is on my mouth to cover the scream I can’t hold in.
The bastard is laughing in my ear. “Naughty girl, no screaming in the office.”
I’m lifted off the desk, back into his lap. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I’m not the naughty girl. It’s all your fault for making me scream, you wretched man. I don’t know why I like it so much.”
His phone beeps, our eyes go wide as they meet. Holy fuck, did Tim hear that?
“Ivan, call from Dmitri Markhoff.” He clears his throat. “Are you available?”
Oh fuck, he did. I bury my face deep in Ivan’s throat. It kills me dead when he laughs for way too long before telling Tim he’ll call Markhoff back. I don’t see it, but I hear Ivan hit a button on his phone.
“No more open line it is.”
“I quit,” I mumble into his neck, then ruin it my licking his hot, silky skin.
“No, you won’t. It will be fine. After shopping you’ll go home. We’ll be gone for two weeks. By the time we’re back you both can pretend it never happened.”
I want to tell him he’s nuts, there is no way I can ever look Tim in the eye, only he’s still got a smug grin on his face. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I’m pretty sure he’s never smiled as often as he has this week. I know for a fact his laughter is new. There were times it still came out of him rusty from disuse.
Ivan smiling and happy is a thousand times more stunning than the sun. I can deny him nothing when he smiles at me, so instead I run a finger along his swollen lips.
“I love it when you forget and talk like a regular person. The whole British accent is intimidating enough, but when you never break for a single contraction, I wonder if you’re a robot or something.”
