Dark Notes(89)

“No.” Her jaw sets. “I want to move on.”

She’s worried he’ll come after her, and frankly, I am, too. I don’t want her connected to his demise in any way. He won’t be locked up forever, and I’ll have to deal with his inevitable freedom when that day comes. But there’s less risk for Ivory if he’s not blaming her for the next however many years he’s rotting in a cell.

As for the best piece of news I received this afternoon… I close the final few feet between us and prowl around her, lightly gliding my knuckles up her arm.

She shivers, turning her neck to maintain eye contact.

I pause behind her and grip her wrists. With her body facing the counter, I flatten her palms on the cabinet door above her head. “Don’t move your hands.”

She smiles at me over her shoulder. “If I do?”

Brat. I slam a hand against her gorgeous ass.

She flies up on tiptoes, head dropping back with a squeak of surprise. But her hands remain where I put them.

“Such a good girl,” I whisper at her ear, causing her entire body to tremble.

Her responsiveness is such a f*cking turn on. I’ve been hard since the day I met her, but I’m finally, finally, going to slacken this long-suffering ache between us.

Unless she uses her word.

I cover her hands with mine, pressing them against the cabinet, a silent reminder. Then I move down her bare arms, fingers stroking skin, then shifting to caress around the outer curves of her breasts.

She holds still for me, but there’s a subtle sway in her posture as she lifts and leans toward my touch, her head tipping and eyes alert, following my every movement.

I roam my hands over the stiff material of her black dress, tracing the outline of her muscles and hipbones beneath. When I reach the hem at her knees, I gather the dress up her thighs, over her supple ass, and let it cling around her waist.

With her eyes turned to watch me, her lashes lower as I slide my mouth down the back of her dress. She sighs, bowing against the counter and dropping her head between her raised arms.

Crouching behind her, I fill my hands with her high round cheeks. The black lace panties look so damn sinful on her. Too bad this is the last time she’ll wear them.

I grip the tiny straps around her hips and yank.

The sound of ripping lace brings her head around. “I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred more and rip every f*cking one of them off your gorgeous ass.”

As I stand, I reach around the front of her legs and drag the tips of my fingers up her inner thighs. Her trembling limbs and husky moans scorch heat through my cock, engorging it to painful steel.

When my hand encounters the soft hair on her *, I tug hard on the short strands. She bites down on her lip, muffling a gasp.

My heart pumps faster, harder. I press my chest against her back, kick her feet apart, and slide my finger along her slit.

Her head falls back on my shoulder, and her mouth chases mine. I dodge her, tickling my lips along her jaw, down her neck, blanketing her skin with my breaths.

“God, Emeric. I’ve never felt like this.”

“Shhh.” I nibble on her shoulder, let her feel my teeth, my tongue, and the heat burning me up inside.

Her head rolls, exposing her neck to my kisses. I suck on her ear lobe, circling my tongue as I plunge my fingers into her slippery cunt. Fuck, she’s so warm and wet and tight.

She whimpers and rubs her ass against my cock, propelling my teasing touches into a panting, grinding imperative. Our bodies roll together, f*cking without penetration. My cock is lined up, but my slacks are in the way.

I thrust my fingers in her soaking *, savoring the clench of her inner walls. “You’re clean, Ivory.”

Her hands twitch against the cabinet door. “Clean?”

“Your test results.” I slide my touch toward her anal rim. “We’re both clean.”

She clenches her ass. “Are we going to—?” Her glutes squeeze against my probing finger. “No! Not there.” She pants. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to f*ck you, Ivory. Tonight. Right now.” I grind against her hip, rubbing my finger between her crack, teasing that tight ring of muscle. I ache to take her there, to f*ck every hole in her body.

Holding her hip in a bruising grip, I reach deeper between her legs, pressing my finger against the tiny pucker of skin.

A pained keening noise tears from her throat, and her hands fall from the cabinet. “Scriabin.”

I jolt backward, my pulse racing and hands in the air. “Ivory?”

Fucking hell, she used her word. She used her f*cking word.

She shakes against a full-body tremor, torso curved over the counter, thighs clenched together, and arms wrapped around her chest. “I c-c-can’t.”

Frustration pummels through me, angry and vicious. And irrational. I force it back, breathing tightly, then deeply, desperate to understand.

Relaxing my arms at my sides, I try to soften my voice. “Be specific.”

“Not my…” She shoves her dress down her legs and turns toward me, eyes glassy and terrified. “Not back there.”

“Have you ever been touched there?”

Her face falls, and she curls in on herself.

Molten rage pours through my veins like lava. I haven’t examined her closely enough to see scarring, but it’s obvious someone sodomized her. Possibly several someones.