The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) by Simone Sierra

Author:Simone, Sierra [Simone, Sierra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, erotica, new adult, adult, Historical
Published: 2015-03-09T07:00:00+00:00

I felt Ivy’s eyes on me. I don’t know how, across a ballroom of that size, and where, admittedly, a fair number of people had been looking at me all evening. But I felt it in the prickling heat on the back of my neck, in the way my body suddenly lurched into hyper-awareness, the way the mask felt against my face, the way the fabric of my clothes moved against my skin as I turned. Why my pulse pounded, I didn’t know, because she had told me she was coming tonight. I had expected it, prepared for it, but still—the enormous, wonderful, almost stupidly joyful truth of it was so much more than I had anticipated.

She was really here. She’d come back to me.

The ballroom was sunken two or three steps from the main floor, and she stood at the top step, her dark eyes pinned on me. My dick surged just seeing her; she looked beautiful in the way that only Ivy managed to pull off—both incredibly fuckable and unbelievably ethereal at the same time. Her gold silk dress was sleeveless, so I could trace the lean curves of her shoulders and collarbone right to the low bodice, where her breasts strained against her corset. I wanted to suck on them until she begged for me to fuck her. I wanted to press them together and slide my cock into them. I wanted to cup them as I took her from behind.

She came towards me then, descending the steps, and I stayed where I was. Every atom of my body screamed to go to her, to meet her and catch her up in my arms, to wrap myself around her and never let go, but I had already waited so long for her and I had to be sure. Had to be sure that she really wanted this, wanted me. Because after tonight, I was not letting her walk away again. I couldn’t. It would kill me.

She seemed oblivious to the stares of the other guests as she passed through the crowd, but I wasn’t. As always, the sting of jealousy only heightened my arousal, my need to reaffirm that she was mine in all the ways that counted. They may fantasize about that long dark hair—tonight curled up so elaborately and studded with diamond pins—but only I got to twist it around my fingers as she sucked on my cock. They may stare at the slim lines of her torso, but only I got to hold her down and come on her flat stomach as she lay panting from the orgasm I’d given her.

Mine mine mine.

And that’s what I said when she reached me. When she lifted her eyes to mine, her face half-obscured by a delicate black and white mask, I couldn’t restrain myself any longer and I yanked her roughly to me. “Mine,” I whispered in her ear.

“Yours,” she murmured.

And then she did something that nearly shredded me. She laid her head against my shoulder and sighed happily.

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