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“I should get going,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed where I’m still sprawled out, my arm propped behind my head. The sheet’s not covering me and I love that she’s suddenly all demure at the sight of me. My cock is draped across my stomach, only half hard, still spilling from our most recent fuck.
We both came extremely hard. Again.
She let me kiss her for a while, which I can’t seem to get enough of. She closed her eyes and listened quietly, a half disbelieving smile on her lips as I murmured promises.
But then her phone pinged with an incoming message and she wriggled out from under me to check it. As soon as she read it, she switched gears from sexy little kitten mode to fucking flight mode.
And now I’m in a mood. “I meant what I said.”
“About what?”
“Move in with me.”
She blinks at me, keeping her eyes closed for a fraction too long, like she’s exasperated with these outlandish suggestions I keep making. “We agreed?—”
“I didn’t agree to anything.” I climb out of bed, walking over to my closet, if you could even call it that. It’s a room with its own climate control and racks of bespoke suits, shirts, ties, shoes, and some casual clothes, although I have less of a need for those since I basically live and breathe work. I grab a blue shirt and start putting it on. “Who was the text from?”
“What text?”
“The one you just got.”
“Oh.” Like she doesn’t want to tell me. “It was just my brother. He’s getting ready to board his flight back to New York.”
“Then we have some time before he gets back.” I pull on some pants, stuffing myself into them. We had a shower at some point during the night so I could taste her, unsullied by my own lust.
And now I don’t want to wash her off. I want to spend the day marked by her until I can be inside her again.
I’ll get what I want. Because I’m fucking addicted. I’m also in love—which is irrational and intense and doesn’t comfortably fit with my usual MO at all because I can’t control her.
I control everything in my life. And now she’s holding her own cards.
“I’m heading back to my apartment now.”
I love this. Her sternness. She’s telling me how it’s going to be. But I have a couple of aces up my sleeve. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t need to drive me, Alexander. I can grab a cab.”
“Absolutely not.” It’s unbearable, the thought of her wandering out onto the streets alone, unprotected, where any random fucker could see her or watch her or fucking touch her. “That’s not happening.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Do that again and I’ll stuff my cock into that sassy little mouth.”
Ivy exhales a huff of laughter. “I am going home now, Maddox, whether you like it or not.” She stands up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Sure you are. But first, I have some things I need to show you. I meant to give them to you last night, but I was preoccupied.” We both know what I was preoccupied with—pumping my cum into her as many times as my new superpowers would allow.
“What things?” Petulantly. Like I’m holding her up.
I don’t know why her coy, pouty sulk would make me fall even more cataclysmically in love with her, but it does. I do my best to get a grip.
I walk toward the bedroom door, opening it and striding into the living room, and she slides her high-heeled sandals on, following me.
On the table, where I requested they be put, are the things I had my lawyers and assistants organize for me. There are two wrapped boxes, one large and one small, and a large manila envelope.
“Open the big one first.”
Another light eye roll.
