Her response is an incoherent noise.
“Say you want me to fuck you like a whore.”
She shakes her head, but she doesn’t stop fucking herself against my hand. I withdraw my fingers. She cries in frustration. I pinch one nipple then the other. “Say it.”
“Fuck me like a whore,” she finally cries. “Fuck me like a slut Damien.”
Good thing she can’t see my smile as I slide into her or otherwise she would have known how much power she has over me. Damn, she feels so good. Every time feels like the first time with her.
As I bury myself to the hilt, I recall my mistake. I’m not wearing protection. But she feels so good. Acting on instinct, I thrust into her a couple of strokes before pulling out.
“What’s the problem?” I hear her ask as I rush over to my pants and take out a square piece of gold foil. The last one. Putting it on is tough when your dick is hard and ready like mine is. I return to her and place my cock between her legs.
“Protection. We wouldn’t want another repeat, now would we?” As soon as those words leave my mouth, they turn into lies. The image of Ivy barefoot and pregnant with my child is more arousing than any erotic picture. It drives me into fucking her relentlessly against that pole. As if I can will myself seed to burst through the condom and make the image come true.
Ivy’s cries increase as I fuck her again and again until she’s practically whimpering. She is rubbing her clit against the pole. I press my body into her to increase the friction. If I can’t debase her, then let’s drive each other crazy. My hands go around hers as I drive into her. She twists her neck back for a kiss and I gladly give it to her. My lips travel down her neck before I bite at the point where her neck and shoulder meet. Marking her. Making her mine.
You’re mine.
A thought that both brings me dread and joy. Just then, I feel her pussy walls clench my cock, holding it in a death grip as she quakes with ecstasy. It’s too much. In no time, I am coming like a faucet. My knees buckle and I almost lose my grip on the pole, but I hold on tightly as I ride the wave.
This is earth-shattering. Part of me knows I will never feel like this with anyone ever again. And part of me wants to reject that notion. I know for a fact that she makes me wild with desire, but not enough for me to forget who she is. What she represents.
I withdraw my cock out of her and we both moan. Our limbs are too raw. After catching my breath for a couple of seconds, I untie Ivy and she falls to the bed, facing me. She has a smile on her face. Happy from the orgasm I’ve just given her. Another stray thought enters my mind. I want to see her like this every day. Happily fucked by me. In love with me. And I in—No. Let’s not go there. I shut the door to that fantasy and return to the lowly lit room with its typical beach house-style decoration. Iwonder if she noticed that this is the only room I didn’t change when I renovated.
“That was,” she starts, but I interrupt her. “So that’s what a billion-dollar fuck feels like.” Her smile quickly vanishes and the light inside me dims, but I continue. “I wonder if you noticed where we are.” She looks around, and watching her face dawn with comprehension should feel more triumphant than it does. “I’ve always wanted to debase on your father’s bed. The revenge would have been sweeter had he been alive, but I like to believe his ghost roiling from the show we gave him.”
The look on her face makes me want to take back everything I’ve just said. There’s revulsion, yes, but the thing I can’t shake off is the hurt. Her eyes are watering and she looks like she will never forgive me for what I’ve just done.
She stands up and slaps my face. “Fuck you, Sinclair.”
She steps forward, but I block her. I block her again as she steps to the side. She tries a third time and I push her back onto the bed.
“I want to leave,” she says
I shake my head. “No. The night isn’t over yet.”
Chapter 20
Ivy
I don’t know how I didn’t notice that we were in Father’s old room when he brought me here. I was too wrapped up in my feelings to even register the familiar surroundings. Damien had taken to the main house after we came out of the cottage. Entering the foyer brought on a nostalgia I didn’t expect. I never liked this place all that much, but it was my father’s favorite getaway and so it meant every party and every family gathering was held here. Those were sources of memories I would rather forget, and yet I felt a sense of warmth from the cold surroundings.
It’s clear Damien isn’t living here. The place is redecorated in that typical real estate interior design look. There is nothing you can point at that gives off any personality except the master bedroom. The room he brought me to. To defile me. To prove a point.
He changed nothing here. Just like the cottage, it was frozen in time. This is the depth of his hatred. Had he planned this all this time? Did he buy this house just so he could exact his revenge years later? How fucked up is that?
I can’t stop myself from slapping his face when he reveals his fucked up revenge scheme. I try to get away from him, but he blocks me. His face is harsh when he says, “The night isn’t over yet.”
I want to spit the deal in his face. Tell him he can jump a cliff, but then I think of Lake. Nolan. My family.
“You’ve fucked me plenty already. What more do you want?”
“A shower.”
I frown as he takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. Are there any more tricks he has in store? Does he have a mockup of my dad standing in the shower stall or something? At this rate, I doubt anything would surprise me.
Thankfully there’s no lifesize mockup of my father. Damien simply opens the shower door and runs the water. He enters and pulls me inside. We shower in silence as though I didn’t slap him moments after he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life. Instead, we behave like an old couple. Slathering soap on each other’s bodies and then washing it off under the hot water.
