The Ivy Lessons (Devoted, Book 1)

by J Lerman

  So much for finding out more about him on this trip. Still, I have him close to me in a confined space for at least a few hours. I consider attempting to distract him, but his expression screams: leave me alone. And I’m buckled in. I don’t think he’d be too happy about me un-strapping myself.

  Chapter 63

  Half hour after the plane takes off, I’m flicking through the film choices on my own flat screen computer, when a beautiful Asian lady appears through a door at the front of the plane. She has long, black hair wound into a tight bun, and she’s dressed in a blouse and pencil skirt.

  She bows and offers me a steaming towel that smells of lemon. When I reach forward, she uses the towel to massage my hands.

  ‘Relax,’ she says. ‘Please. Lean back.’ I do, and she lays the towel over my face. She lays each hand carefully on my lap. ‘Mr Blackwell has asked me to manicure your hands and feet. But first, would you like some refreshment? Something to eat or drink?’

  I pause, throwing a sideways glance at Marc. ‘Do you have Coca Cola?’ I ask, feeling like he’d disapprove.

  Merile bows and disappears, returning with an ice-cold bottle of coke, and glass of ice and lemon. She pours the drink and sets it on the table next to me.

  ‘I’ll manicure your fingernails now.’ She pulls a black box from an overhead locker, and opens it up, revealing Neils Yard pampering products and twenty colours of nail polish.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ I say. ‘I’ve never had a manicure before.’ I look at my shabby, half bitten nails. ‘But you can probably guess that yourself.’

  Merile smiles, and begins rubbing my hands, cuticles and nails with various oils and lotions. They smell divine, and soon she’s pushing my cuticles back and snipping and filing my nails. She buffs each nail, then holds out three shades of polish – navy, dark green and silver.

  ‘I think these will suit you best,’ she says.

  ‘I like the green,’ I say, thinking of the ivy in Marc’s garden.

  She flicks two coats over each nail, then bows at my feet and carefully takes off my new shoes. She massages each foot, then fetches a bath of steaming water and places each foot carefully in the lavender-scented liquid.

  I turn and notice Marc is watching me, a half smile on his face. ‘Ask Merile for whatever you need,’ he says. ‘I’ll be done by the time we land.’

  ‘How long until we get there?’ I ask.

  ‘Maybe another eight hours,’ he says. ‘The pilot will get us there as fast as he can, but ... we’ll see.’

  After my nails are done, Merilee fetches me a lunch of crab salad, followed by the lightest and most delicious lemon soufflé I’ve ever eaten.

  I eat, dose a little, watch movies and – more often than is decent – watch Marc. We pass through night time, and then the sun comes up again, and I watch the horizon, fascinated. I’ve never seen the sun rise twice in one day before.

  We have thin slices of melt-in-the-mouth steak for dinner, and poached pear for dessert.

  Then the plane begins to descend, and it suddenly hits me that I’m thousands of miles away from home and have no idea where I’m going. I still don’t understand Marc, who he is or what he wants from me. Sometimes, I feel like I see flashes of kindness and love. Other times I see coldness and his need to control.

  The plane begins to bump around. Turbulence, I guess.

  Now I feel nervous and sick. My breathing gets quicker and quicker, until I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Marc flashes me a look. ‘Sophia. Are you okay?’

  I nod. ‘Just a little ... scared. And ... sick.’ I put a hand to my mouth and look out of the window. Marc unclasps himself and kneels beside me. He takes my hand.

  ‘Sophia – look at me.’

  I do, and my breathing gets faster. Each breath doesn’t feel like enough. I have to have more air, and I begin to gasp.

  ‘Take deep breaths,’ Marc says. ‘Merile!’

  Merile rushes out from the front of the plane. ‘Mr Blackwell. You should be buckled in.’

  ‘Bring the medical kit,’ says Marc, ‘then strap yourself in.’

  She nods and rushes away, returning with a white box. ‘Mr Blackwell. Allow me.’

  Marc shakes his head. ‘You go strap yourself in. Leave this to me.’

  Merile looks reluctant, but I guess if she’s worked with Marc before, she knows not to argue with him. She returns to the front of the plane.

  ‘It’s okay, Sophia,’ says Marc, opening the kit. ‘You’re just having a little panic attack. There’s oxygen in here if you need it, but I don’t think you will. Breathe. Breathe. Nice and slowly.’

  I take longer breaths and Marc holds tight to my hand. The plane bumps, and he staggers back on his haunches, then catches himself.

  ‘Sit down,’ I say between breaths. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

  ‘Just keep on breathing,’ he says.

  I feel calmer with him holding my hand, even though the plane is both descending and bumping around. I see the sun high in the sky, and see shimmering sea and white sands below.

  After what feels like an eternity, the plane bumps onto a runway and I hear a rush of air as we pull to a stop.

  Marc has held my hand the whole time.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, as the plane door is rolled open. ‘You really didn’t need to do that. I was having a silly panic attack.’

  ‘Sophia, I brought you here,’ says Marc. ‘I gave you my word I’d take care of you.’

  Warm air rushes into the plane, and I stand up shakily.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘See for yourself.’ Marc walks me to the plane steps, and I look out past the concrete runway and flight tower and see green trees, sand and ocean. The sky is bright blue, and the air feels like a warm bath. Birds twitter in the trees, and in the distance I see an oval-shaped building made of glass.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers.

  ‘We’re in the Caribbean,’ says Marc. ‘This place is totally secluded. No press. Nothing but us.’

  ‘But I still don’t know where we are,’ I say.

  ‘We’re on my own private island,’ says Marc.

  Chapter 64

  I remember reading that Marc had his own island. It was in some magazine article about celebrities who were mega-millionaires. I remember some other famous person, I forget who, had a collection of jet packs. But Marc had an island. A whole island.

  ‘Your own island,’ I breathe, walking down the plane steps. ‘Look at the trees. They’re amazing.’

  Marc smiles. ‘There are all sorts of plants here. More than just ivy.’

  I smile. ‘I’d love to go walking in that forest,’ I say, pointing to the canopy of green.

  ‘Later,’ says Marc. ‘First, let me take you to my place.’

  A huge Rolls Royce drives us from the airport, down secluded dirt roads to the glass oval building I saw from the plane.

  We walk through a glass door, up glass steps and onto a glass balcony that looks out over the sea. Because most of the whole building is one big window, it feels like we’re floating in the forest and above the beach, part of nature.

  The house is decorated with fur rugs and leather sofas, but it still lacks the warmth of somewhere that’s truly lived in. That’s truly loved. There are lots of flat screen televisions, remote controls and gadgets around.

  ‘How do you like it?’ Marc asks, strolling to the window that looks over the sea.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, ‘but it reminds me of your house in London. It needs some warmth to it.’

  Marc turns to me, and his lips tilt upwards. ‘Warmth?’

  ‘Things that make it feel like a home. Plants, maybe.’

  ‘You’ll have to enlighten me about that one.’

  ‘Have you ever brought girls ... a woman here before?’ I ask, thinking perhaps I don’t want to know the answer to that question.

  ‘Once,’ says Marc, looking out over the water.
‘Years ago.’

  ‘One of the girlfriends you don’t really have?’ I ask.

  ‘She wasn’t my girlfriend,’ says Marc. ‘She was a friend’s girlfriend, and it was a mistake to bring her here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She had a certain fantasy she wanted fulfilling that involved both me and my friend.’

  I swallow. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning she wanted to have two guys at once, and I was the lucky other guy. But my friend wasn’t all that happy about it, and I’ve never seen them since.’

  ‘Oh.’ I stand awkwardly, wishing I’d never started the conversation.

  Marc turns to me and smiles. ‘You didn’t like that answer, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve heard about Pandora’s box?’

  I nod.

  ‘Sometimes, it’s best not to know too much. You might not like what you find out if you ask too many questions about me. I’m not what you call wholesome. I have a past. Not a great past.’

  He goes to the open plan kitchen and opens a gleaming silver Smeg fridge. Its door is full of champagne, and he takes out a bottle and pops the cork.

  ‘I think we should drink to celebrate your arrival here.’ He takes down two glasses and pours the champagne.

  I take a glass. ‘This house is yours and yours alone?’ I ask.

  Marc nods.

  ‘It doesn’t feel like you,’ I say. ‘Nor did the townhouse. It feels ... empty.’

  ‘Well, maybe I’m empty,’ says Marc, taking a sip of champagne. ‘I’m certainly morally empty, if you look at my choice of companion on this trip.’

  ‘I don’t think you are,’ I say. ‘You didn’t want any of this. You would have walked away right at the start, but I didn’t let you.’

  ‘I’m five years older than you, Sophia,’ says Marc, looking serious. ‘I should have been able to say no, regardless of my feelings for you. A good man doesn’t fuck his students. No matter how hard he falls -’

  He stops himself, taking a sharp sip of champagne, and looks out at the beach. ‘Look. What I mean to say is, this isn’t a habit for me, okay? I never, ever thought something like this would happen. I’ve never done anything with any of my pupils before, and after you I never will again. But that doesn’t make me morally decent. I should have said no.’

  ‘You’re talking like I had no say in the matter,’ I say. ‘It was my choice as much as yours. More so. You tried to walk away. I didn’t want you to. And you’re not morally empty. But this place ...’ I gesture with my hand. ‘There’s no love in it. Only things.’

  ‘It wasn’t built for love,’ Marc snaps. ‘All your fantasies can come true here. I can make anything you want happen. You want two guys at once? I can make it happen. You want a girl to join us? It can happen. I can tie you up, you can tie me up, whatever you want can happen here.’

  ‘I want you to lose your inhibitions.’

  ‘I don’t have any inhibitions,’ says Marc. ‘I’m sexually and morally bankrupt. I’ve fucked women in every way there is to. Nothing is off limits for me.’

  ‘But have you ever come with a woman?’

  ‘A few times. When I was younger.’

  That answer knocks me sideways. I don’t know what I was expecting. It hurts me to think he’s shared things with other women he’s never shared with me. ‘But with me you never ...’

  ‘I learned very quickly to stay in control. That intimacy leads to all sorts of places I don’t want to be.’

  ‘So you never want to be close to people?’ I say. ‘Close to me?’

  ‘I’ve been closer to you than I’ve ever been to anyone in my life,’ says Marc. ‘That’s what you don’t seem to understand.’

  ‘Even though you’ve never come with me?’

  ‘The way I feel for you ... it’s different. But this is as close as we can get. You either accept it, or leave. I can’t give you any more.’

  I think about that. If I believed this was the most Marc could ever offer me – the occasional show of closeness, followed by a coolness that freezes me to my core – then I would walk away. But I don’t believe it. I think deep down he wants to let himself go, but he can’t. He’s too scared.

  Marc sips his champagne and sets down the glass. He walks over to me and takes my hands. ‘I didn’t bring you here to talk. You do know that, don’t you?’

  A warm feeling runs through my stomach, and I feel my thighs pull together.

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘I think so,’ I say. ‘Yes. I do. I do trust you.’

  ‘Good.’ Marc gives a satisfied smile. ‘Because I know exactly what you’d like right now. You’d like to be spanked.’

  Chapter 65

  ‘I would?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Marc, leading me towards one of the rooms. ‘You’d like to be tied up and spanked until you cry out. I knew it as soon as I had you in the stationary cupboard. You want more. You want to be totally dominated and taken charge of.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Trust me, Sophia,’ Marc whispers, opening a door. Inside I see a round bed right in the centre of the room. It has no headboard, just white sheets, but I notice hoops screwed at even points around the base of the bed.

  A length of rope lies on the sheets. There’s a paddle next to the rope, and Marc slaps it against his palm.

  ‘You couldn’t take your eyes off this little device, when we were watching that movie,’ he says. ‘But I have lots more. Paddles. Studded paddles. Floggers.’

  ‘That all sounds a bit -’

  ‘Be quiet,’ Marc orders. ‘Take off your clothes and get on the bed.’

  I do, seeing birds fly over the ocean, through the panoramic window.

  ‘Turn over,’ he says, coming behind me and tying my wrists to the hoops on the headboard.

  Marc takes off his clothes. They fall in a soft heap on the floor.

  Now I’m trapped. Vulnerable. He can do whatever he wants to me.

  I see him prowl around the bed. He picks up the paddle again.

  ‘You’d like to be spanked, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Very good.’

  He brings the paddle down hard on my buttocks. ‘You haven’t been doing what you’re told.’ He spanks me again, twice. I cry out. ‘You’ll stay here until I’m finished with you.’

  I see his taut backside saunter out of the bedroom, and hear champagne being poured. He comes back into the room with a full glass and the champagne bottle, and rests the bottle on the bedside table.

  ‘Spread your legs for me,’ he says, resting his champagne glass on my buttocks. ‘Now.’

  I spread my legs.

  He picks up the champagne bottle, setting the glass down in its place. Then he pushes the cold glass of the champagne bottle between my thighs.

  ‘Wider,’ he says.

  I spread my legs as wide as I can, feeling hot and breathless.

  He slips the top of the champagne bottle inside me, and turns the cool glass.

  ‘Ooh,’ I moan, as he pushes it deeper.

  Then he tosses the champagne bottle to one side, and goes to the cabinet. He pulls out a thin, silver vibrator.

  ‘I’m going to slip this inside your backside, and if you make the tiniest noise I’m going to spank you again.’

  ‘Okay,’ I murmur, squirming a little at the thought.

  He comes behind me and lays a hand on my buttocks, whilst he works the vibrator inside me.

  I bite my lip, trying to keep quiet like he wants, but when he turns on the vibrations I start to moan.

  He picks up the paddle and spanks me five times, and I moan even louder.

  ‘Please Marc,’ I say, as the vibrations make me feel fuller and fuller.

  Marc spanks me again, harder this time, and I feel so desperate for him that I don’t think I can take it. ‘Please fuck me,’ I beg, as spanking sounds ring out
around the room.

  Marc walks around to the front of the bed, and I see his huge erection in front of my face.

  ‘Put this in your mouth,’ he says, taking my chin. He slides himself in my mouth and moves his hips back and forth, going further and further inside.

  ‘Oh yes.’ He leans his head back and closes his eyes, his hands either side of my face. Then he stops abruptly and walks around behind me again. He climbs on top of me and slides himself between my legs. I feel the vibrator go further up my backside, as Marc moves back and forth, harder and harder.

  I’m desperate to move my hand down, to touch myself, but I can’t move.

  ‘Untie me,’ I beg. ‘Please.’

  But Marc just moves harder against me. ‘Trust me,’ he says, going further and further inside. A warm feeling is building up, and I’m so desperate to touch myself that I struggle against the ropes.

  Suddenly Marc lies on top of me, pressing me into the bed, rubbing me against the sheets as he moves.

  I moan as I come, feeling the ropes bite at my wrists.

  Marc softly unties the ropes and flips me over, pulling out the vibrator. Then he slides himself in me again, and moves slowly, staring right into my eyes.

  ‘I want to come in you,’ he says. ‘But I can’t. I just can’t lose control again.’

  I nod, moving stray hair from his eyes.

  He falls forward, pulling me into his arms. We lay like that until morning.

  Chapter 66

  I wake in the morning, and find the space beside me empty. I sit up, looking through the panoramic window at the tropical paradise outside. It’s beautiful. I can feel the warmth of the sun through the windows, even though the air-conditioning has chilled the air.

  I dress and go downstairs, finding Marc in the gym room, pounding a punch bag. He looks furious – ready to kill someone – and I’d feel sorry for anyone who took the place of that punch bag.

  He never wavers, never stops to lean against the bag and get his breath back. He just punches and punches, his back straight and face determined. His grey t-shirt and sweatpants are drenched in sweat.

  Eventually he stops, and grabs the bag to stop it from swinging. He throws off his boxing gloves, and wipes his face with a towel.