Bound by Ivy (3 page)

7

When I open my eyes again, I’m in Marc’s townhouse. He’s carrying me up the stairs, and I feel my hair swaying beneath me. My eyes sleepily glide over the building pictures lining Marc’s staircase.

I need to do something with this place
, I think sleepily.
Give it some heart and soul
.
Grow some plants. Make it warmer.

Now we’re on the landing.

Marc pushes open his bedroom door with his shoulder and carries me to the bed. He pushes the duvet aside with his elbow and lays me on the silk sheet. I look up at his handsome face, seeing concern pull at his blue eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

‘You’re tired,’ he says, in a low voice. ‘But god ... if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now ...’

I feel the familiar warmth
building. I’m still tender from our time in the dressing room earlier, but I want him so badly.

‘I’m not that tired,’ I say, stifling a yawn.

Marc circles the bed, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over a chair. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘You’re tired. Far too tired for what I have in mind.’

‘What do you have in mind
?’ I murmur.

‘
It can wait.’

The warmth
turns to burning. ‘I can stay awake.’ I try not to yawn again.

‘No.
Sleep now. The quicker you do, the quicker I can fuck you the way I want.’ Marc goes to the foot of the bed, undoes my shoelaces and slides off my shoes. It’s not like the time he undressed me at the hotel, when his movements were deliberately seductive. He’s quick and functional, flinging my footwear to the floor.

Then he undoes my jeans and pulls
them from my legs, pausing for just a moment to look at my bare skin, before tearing his eyes away and throwing the duvet over me.

‘Put your arms up.’

I do, and he lifts my sweater over my head.

I don’t think he
means to turn me on, but the roughness of his hands make me ache for him.

I
lie back on the bed.

‘Marc.
I’m awake. I promise.’

He goes to the bedroom window,
loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes. Then he stares out at the dark London sky.

‘
Aren’t you coming to bed?’ I ask.

Marc turns.
‘I was going to wait until you’d fallen asleep,’ he says. ‘So I won’t be tempted.’

‘You can be tempted,’
I say.

He smiles. ‘If you knew
what I had planned, you wouldn’t be saying that. Trust me. You’re too tired.’

‘I’m not.’

He comes to sit on the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke my cheek. ‘My job is to take care of you. And right now I’m taking care of your physical health instead of your physical pleasure.’

‘Kiss me,’ I say.

‘Sophia
—’

‘Please.’

Marc’s hand hesitates on my cheek. His eyes burn. Then slowly, he leans forwards and presses his lips against mine – a long, slow goodnight kiss.

I love
the feeling of his lips. Before I can think about it, my mouth opens and I’m kissing him fully, passionately, reaching around his shoulders to pull him closer.

‘
God
,’ Marc moans into my mouth, kissing me back, pushing me hard into the bed. ‘Sophia, you might regret this.’

‘I won’t.’

Marc unbuttons his shirt and flings it off, kissing me harder, sliding his fingers into my hair and clenching his hand into a fist, pulling my hair tight. He moves so his knee comes between my legs and his body weight presses against me.

My scalp stings
where he grips my hair, and he tugs his fist down until I moan.

‘Oh, Marc.’

‘I’m not going to do what I planned right now,’ Marc murmurs against my mouth. ‘You’re too tired. But I have to see you come.’

He kisses me harder
, clenching his fist tighter. A bruisey pain moves around my scalp and neck, and my head is totally immobilised. I’m held by him, completely in his power, his body weight holding me to the bed.

Marc
pushes his knee harder between my legs while he pins my shoulders to the bed with one hand and grips my hair with the other. I’m getting so wet that I know my panties are almost soaked through.

‘Oh
god Marc, please,’ I beg. ‘Please fuck me.’

Marc’s hand m
oves between my legs and I gasp and moan as he pushes my panties aside and forces three fingers deep inside me in one swift, hard movement.

‘
Oh
,’ I moan.

He turns
his fingers back and forth. Then he slips in a forth finger, and I lose all sense of anything except pleasure building up. I’m sore and full all at the same time, and it feels so good.

‘Tell me if this is too much,’ Marc whispers. I feel his thumb push inside me
too, and sink into the bed with pleasure and pain.

‘It’s ... I think I can take it,’ I gasp. ‘For ... now.’

Marc pushes further, further inside, his eyes locked on mine.

I swallow and sha
ke my head, knowing if he twists his hand like he did before, I won’t be able to take it. But he doesn’t move. He stays still, watching me, his eyes fierce.

‘One day
I’ll have you begging for my whole hand to be inside you,’ he says. ‘But not today.’

He pulls his hand out in such a rush that I’m left throbbing and desperate for him.

‘Fuck me Marc, please,’ I beg.

8

Marc undoes his trousers, letting go of my hair to struggle out of them. He takes off his boxers too, and I see him, huge and hard, before he climbs back on top of me.

His long arm reaches out to grab a condom from the bedside table drawer, and he rips open the foil and stretches latex over himself.

I open my legs for him, and he groans as he comes into contact with my damp skin. ‘Very accommodating Miss Rose. Very, very accommodating.’

He
teases me for a moment, rubbing his hardness around.

‘Please fuck me,’ I say again. ‘Please.
Please
.’

Marc
thrusts into me. He pushes deep, going all the way inside, further than his fingers could ever manage, reaching dark, sultry places that make my whole body tingle.

‘Oh,’ I moan, as he
fills me up. He’s pushing against me, all of me, his groin hard against mine, rubbing me inside and out, and I’m pinned to the bed, trapped by him. I know as soon as he moves I’m going to come. But just like before, he holds me still for a moment, teasing.

‘I wish I had your self control,’ I whisper.

Marc’s eyes are fierce, and he replies through gritted teeth, ‘I don’t have much of it left. Believe me.’

He slides his hand in
to my hair again and pulls it tight like before.

‘Oh
god,’ I cry, as he gives my hair a tug.

H
e starts to move, and with every stroke he pulls my hair harder, until my head begins to move with him and a delicious, dominant pain spreads down my neck.

The pain stops me from coming straight away, but oh god ... the pleasure. Every push inside me, every tightening of his hand
around my hair, is making me delirious and I’m lost in him, just like always.

Marc’s eyes don’t leave mine as he pumps back and forth,
forcing my head to move with him, causing electric shocks all over my body.

W
hen he slips his other hand around and grasps my buttocks, forcing his fingers right into the flesh hard enough to bruise, I can’t hold on anymore. I want to scream out with how good it feels.

‘Oh,
oh
,’ I gasp, looking into his eyes and seeing he’s close to coming too.

‘Sop
hia,’ he moans, his eyes melting and softening, his fingers grasping my buttocks so firmly that he’s almost lifting me off the bed.

He g
ives one mighty thrust, hitting everything in just the right way.

And I come.

In one huge giant wave, my body pushing and pulling all around him. Pleasure flows over me from my scalp all the way down to my feet, and my whole body melts into the bed. Everything feels electric – my scalp, my neck and between my legs.

As I feel wave after wave of pleasure
, I hear Marc’s breathing go sharp and hear something between a shout and a moan as he comes.

He pushes
his body against mine, forcing himself harder between my legs, against my chest.

I feel his breathing soften as his body releases
into me. His nose is nearly touching mine now, his eyes lightly closed, eyelids flickering. His lips fall forwards, giving me the softest, sweetest kiss. I feel warmth all over my body.

Marc
wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto my shoulder so we’re lying side by side. He moves a hand up to gently cradle my head where he was gripping my hair before, his fingers stroking back and forth.

‘Not too much?’

‘No,’ I murmur. ‘It felt good.’

‘I knew it would
.’

There are no
more words. I’m too tired to talk. To think. All I can do is feel the warmth of Marc’s arms and body. I press myself close to him and fall into a deep sleep.

9

I wake up the next morning to feel sun shining on eyelids, and know instinctively that Marc is no longer lying next to me. My eyes flicker open and I roll over to see an empty, cold space.

It’s a be
autiful, crisp winter day, and the sky is white through the criss-crossed townhouse window. The sun is pale overhead.

I pull myself up in the bed, feeling the silky duvet fall down over my bare legs. I’m still wearing
my panties and a black vest with coloured stars all over it. As memories of last night come back to me, I feel warmth travel up my abdomen.

What
does Marc have planned for me today?

I shiver at the possibilities.

There’s a brown trunk in the corner of the room, and I see underwear and a change of clothes laid out on it. My underwear and my clothes. I smile.

Marc had my clothes couriered over from Ivy College af
ter the whole Giles Getty incident, and he arranged a room in the townhouse to store them all. There’s a bed in that room too, but of course I’ve never slept in it.

I’m always in Marc’s bedroom.

Some mornings, I wake up and find Marc lying beside me. He’s always awake and watching me intently, like I’m made of china and about to fall and break. Other mornings, Marc wakes up before me and lays out my clothes. Then I meet him downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.

W
hen I wake to an empty bed, I find it a little strange. I think, in Marc’s case, leaving me sleeping is a habit left over from the days when he couldn’t let go. When he absolutely had to stay in charge at all times. But he can let go now. At least, most of the time.

I’m about to cli
mb out of bed when the door creaks, and I’m treated to the sight of a bare-chested Marc Blackwell in grey sweatpants.

He’s
carrying a silver breakfast tray and his floppy brown hair looks a little damp. As he comes closer, I smell shampoo and cologne.

‘Awake at seven
on the dot.’ Marc smiles his quirky, deadly smile – the one that has female cinema audiences weak at the knees. His teeth are so perfect, and his lips, the way they curve in that devilish way, are so ... I don’t know the words, but let’s just say that smile does things to me. ‘Your routine is very predictable Miss Rose.’

‘Marc, I haven’t showered yet
.’ I’m feeling sleep dirty and wish I could brush my teeth before he comes any nearer. When we wake up in bed together, I don’t care that I haven’t washed. But if he’s already showered, I want to take a shower too.

‘
I like you when you haven’t showered.’ Marc places the tray on the end of the bed. ‘I love the way you smell.’ His low voice hits me in all the right places. ‘I want you to eat well this morning. You’ll be needing your stamina.’

‘Oh?’ I raise a teasing eyebrow.
‘What for?’

‘What would be the fun if I told you?
Eat.’

On the tray,
I see a bowl of porridge topped with crispy bacon, maple syrup and pumpkin seeds. There’s also a plate of Eggs Benedict decorated with a sprig of parsley, under a glass cloche. And a bowl of fresh strawberries and yoghurt. Wow. There’s a lot to eat.

Next to the porridge and eggs stand
two cut crystal glasses – one full of pink grapefruit juice, the other holding a stem of ivy.

I smile at the ivy. ‘
Did you pick that from your garden?’ I ask.

‘
Your
garden,’ says Marc, sitting beside me on the bed and arranging my hair around my shoulders. ‘There’s no question who it belongs to now.’

I feel myself grinning. ‘I love it out there. There’s so much more I’d like to do.’

‘Write a list of any plants you need. Equipment. I’ll have Rodney take care of it. Now eat.’

‘
It looks amazing,’ I say. ‘But ... there’s so much. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage everything.’

‘Last night was a long night,
and you need to replenish yourself. I have plans for you this morning. Plans that require stamina.’ Marc raises an eyebrow.

My stomach flips over, remembering the ‘plans’ he
spoke about last night. When it’s finished flipping, I slide the tray of food towards me.

I pick
up a silver spoon with square edges and dip it into the porridge.

‘Mmm
,’ I say, taking a mouthful and realising how hungry I am. ‘Delicious.’ The porridge is laced with cream and warm maple syrup. More like a dessert than a breakfast, but it feels like exactly what I need this morning. Marc’s right – I used up a lot of energy yesterday, one way or another.

‘Try the bacon with
it,’ says Marc, holding up a crispy strip.

‘I’ve never had bacon with porridge before,’ I admit. ‘Does it go?’

‘Better than you’d imagine.’ Marc holds the bacon to my lips and I take a little bite. He’s right, of course. It goes perfectly with the rich porridge and maple syrup. I lean closer, taking another bite that snaps near his fingers.

‘Careful Miss Rose,’ says Marc with a smile.

‘You’re allowed to hurt me, but I can’t hurt you?’ I throw back, playfully.

‘I don’t hurt you. I test your
limits to heighten your enjoyment.’ Marc’s eyes darken and fix on mine. ‘I’d put you over my knee and spank you at the slightest opportunity. Do you know why?’

‘Why?’ I
squeak, swallowing bacon.

‘Because it would make you come over and over again.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘
I can see it in your eyes right now. And by the way your neck and chest have flushed, and your voice has gone up a key. But I’ve got more planned for you today than just a spanking. Believe me. I’ve had a length of silk rope ordered especially.’

Oh. God.
My desire is written all over my face, I know it is. Part of me hates the fact Marc can turn me on so easily by talking about spanking and tying me up.

I have no idea if I’d be turned on by all
this dark, subversive sex if I hadn’t met Marc, or whether I like it
because
of Marc. I guess it doesn’t matter. I love him and loving him has awakened things in me.

Now that Marc has let go
with me, I love him so much that sometimes I can hardly breathe.

When we’re making love, I feel like we become one person.
I trust him completely. Totally. I want to be part of him, always. The fact he takes pleasure from dominating me, and the fact I love him dominating me, well – it just shows how much we’re made for each other.

There’s a bleeping sound, and I see a flash of white through the
grey cotton of Marc’s sweat pant pocket.

Marc
frowns and slides out the phone, glaring at the screen.

I feel myself frown too, because he looks so serious all of a sud
den. A world away from that beautiful, sexy grin he gave me when he came into the room.

‘Marc?’

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flick back and forth over the screen.

‘Is everything okay?’
I ask.

Marc stands. ‘Finish your breakfast. I have to deal with this. I’ll be back soon.’ He stalks out of the bedroom.

I stare at the door as it bangs shut, wondering what on earth is going on.