‘I need you to fill me up.’
‘My greedy girl still hasn’t had enough.’ He shakes his head in mock horror, his finger gravitating back towards my clit .
‘I need you inside me.’
His hands reach for the waistband of his pants, and he yanks them down, setting his huge angry length free. ‘Is this what you want?’
Saliva floods my mouth. He’s so big. So fucking beautiful. ‘Yes.’
I try to reach for him and hiss out my frustration as the tie holds my arm tightly.
‘Have you learnt your lesson yet?’ He nudges his tip at my entrance but doesn’t push it in.
‘Yes,’ I grit out.
He runs the tip up my slit and I cry out in protest. I need him inside me, and he knows it. I grind against him, and he laughs, repeating his strokes on the outside.
‘You’re mine, Ivy.’ His Adam’s apple bobs.
‘Okay. Untie me, I need to touch,’ I beg.
‘No can do, baby.’ He winks. ‘I’m still punishing you here. Can’t let you off the hook too easily.’
‘But I need to run my hands over your body.’ My gaze roams over the squares of solid muscle of his six-pack.
‘Now you know how I felt last night, watching you on the camera.’ Fire dances in his irises as he thrusts his tip into me.
‘More!’ I drive back against him. He laughs, but gives me another inch.
‘You take my cock so well, Ivy. It’s like you were made forit.’ He sinks himself into me and my eyes roll back into my head.
‘Open your eyes,’ he demands. ‘Watch me, like I had to watch you last night.’
I drink him in as he rails into me in a soul-shattering rhythm that has us both panting and cursing. When he finally spills himself into me, I come for the third time, milking him dry.
He collapses onto my clammy chest, slick with a thin layer of sex-induced sweat as his release drips out of me.
A bang from downstairs sets us both jumping.
‘What was that?’ I lift my head from the pillow, one of the few body parts Icanmove.
‘The front door,’ Caelon says grimly. ‘It’s probably Samuel.’
‘He always uses the back door,’ I remind him.
‘The only person to use the front door is Dermot.’ Caelon freezes.
‘He has a key?’ I whisper shout in outrage.
Caelon leaps off the bed, yanking up his sweatpants with a panic-stricken face. ‘He’s my best friend.’
‘Ivy!’ My brother’s voice booms from below as I remember I haven’t returned his calls this week. Fuck.
My eyes dart to the restraints above my head and I waggle my feet like they’re miraculously going to burst free.
Heavy footsteps pound below until they reach the bottom of the stairs. ‘Ivy,’ Dermot calls again. This time, there’s a tinge of panic to his tone.
I can’t call him. Jesus, if he finds me like this, or finds Caelon anywhere near me, he will murder both of us.
