“And now?”
“You scare me in a different way.” She kisses the spot over my heart, making my pulse race. “In the best way.”
“Flatten your palms against the wall.”
As she follows my order, I lean my weight against her, confining her while I tackle my belt, fumbling to loosen it. Christ, I need her. I’m shaking with the urgency to bury myself inside her and thrust hard, fast, and unapologetically. I don’t even care where we are.
I shove my slacks and briefs to my thighs and fist my dick, stroking with one hand as I yank up her dress with the other.
My fingers find her bare, soft, and soaked. Thank God, because I’m already lining up and… Ahhh! Fuck, that first thrust inside her always steals my air. She’s so tight, so wet and warm. I let go, not holding back as I slam into her, again and again, lost in the snug clasp of her body.
Her hands stay on the wall, her thighs trembling against mine.
I lift her, hook her legs around my waist, and drive my hips, deeply, viciously. “I fucking love your *.”
With a moan, she bows her back, ankles crossed against my ass, those dark brown eyes dilated and locked on me.
My body tightens with my desperation to come. She feels too damn good, too fucking perfect wrapped around my cock. I want to explode.
I grip the back of her head and press her mouth against mine. Not kissing. I’m too wild and frantic for that. I lock our lips, holding us tightly together, savoring her breaths, as I groan and thrust and fuck her to climax.
Her chest heaves through a series of rising moans, her hands sliding up and down the wall. The instant she clenches around me and her body shudders in release, I come so fucking hard my head spins. “Fuuuuck!”
I drop my brow to hers and hold her against the wall, lazily kissing and panting through the lingering vibrations of pleasure.
She wraps her arms around my neck, lips parted and teasing mine. “You’re all I want.”
I stroke my tongue against hers. “You’re all I need.”
“Mmm. I love that.”
I pull from the warmth of her body, knowing I’ll be back in it by the end of the day. “We only have twenty-four hours. Time to see the city.”
By way of the limo, I give her a whirlwind tour from Central Park to the Statue of Liberty. We walk the crowded streets of Times Square. We dine at a fancy restaurant I had to book two months in advance. Not my thing, but it’s something I wanted her to experience.
Late that night, we lie nude in bed in the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons Hotel. I’ve been inside her for so long my dick’s numb. But in about twenty minutes, I’ll be ready to go again.
She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her arms extended above her head, wrists bound together with my belt. She doesn’t bother moving them or asking me to untie her. I’m not sure she has the energy to speak.
I slide down her curves and kiss her hip, nipping at the bone with enough pressure to make her tremble.
“How did you get into…” She twists her wrists in the shackle of the belt. “This?”
Crawling back up her body, I undo the strap and massage her arms. “When I was fifteen, I found some books stashed away in my dad’s office.”
Her eyes widen, waking with alertness. “Like dirty sex books?”
I curl my fingers around one of her tits, trussing it up to roll my tongue around the nipple. “BDSM books. Kink. Master/slave stuff. I was instantly”—hard as a fucking rock—“intrigued. The next few years, I researched it. Obsessed about it. But I wasn’t bold enough to try anything until I went to college.”
The vein in her throat pulses. “With a girl here in New York?”
“No one important.” I don’t even remember her name.
She relaxes against the soft sheets, her fingers mindlessly combing through my hair as I lick, kiss, and caress her tits. She’s so damn beautiful I can’t keep my hands off her.
Her fingers still in my hair. “What risks did you take today? If I would’ve accepted a spot at Leopold, what would’ve happened with your job and the dean?”
“The risks are null. I want you to focus on graduating.” I give her a steely look. “Trust me.”
“Okay.”
Bringing her here didn’t put her education at risk. I knew the judges would accept her. If Beverly Rivard is double-dealing behind my back, it won’t prevent Ivory from graduating from Le Moyne or achieving the future she wants.
There’s only three weeks left of school, and Beverly believes I’ve already pushed Prescott’s enrollment past the application process. I haven’t, and I’m not going to. He’ll get into a conservatory. It just won’t be Leopold. By the time Beverly learns this, Ivory will be graduated and I’ll have my resignation turned in.
I’ve done a lot of soul-searching over the past few months. Ivory wants to learn, and I want to teach. We’ll get those things from each other. Then?
She has a very specific image of what her end goal looks like… The lights, the audience, the music. My aspirations aren’t much different.
I know exactly how I’ll make our dreams align.