End With A Bang (Slap/Bang Duet #2)

12. The Sweet Spot

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Sweet Spot

“Did you leave anything for the other shoppers?” Ivy asked, staring aghast at the mountain of Nordstrom bags littering the penthouse suite’s master bed. “Tell me you’re returning most of this tonight.”

“If that’s what you want.” Sever stood behind her, ardently touching her clothed body as if the hip-huggers and crop-top she’d walked in with were an exotic novelty. “But it is all your size. Lots of shoes...”

“Oh, because all women are shoe crazy?” She did in fact love a good shoe, but she needed him to know that he was being sexist and …what was the other thing? It didn’t help that he was kissing her shoulders, fondling her hips, and the fact that the handbag atop the pile was so pretty... But there was no way it was in her budget... Oh, right, that was the other thing: he was being grossly extravagant. “This is repugnant, Sever. I’m repugged.”

“That the word for what happened to your nipples just now?”

“That’s only from the kisses, I’ll have you know, and I’m not taking more than one shopping bag, and I’m paying for whatever I’m ta... taking...” His soft lips on her neck shut her up and reminded her why she was here. She turned around in his grasp to kiss him and clutch his neck. She loved the way he kissed. Or the way they kissed each other. It was like sex—all about compatibility.

Their mouths came apart and he whispered dangerously, “How could your husband let you leave in this?”

He finessed her spot. So he was in that kind of mood.

Minor adjustment... and she was right there with him.

“This,” he rasped, tugging at her gold belly chain, “stays on. All night.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He brought her hand to his hard-on. “He insists.”

Tonight’s request was fairly vague: what she might wear shopping, but sexier—tight jeans a must, show a little skin, toss in a little gold. She squeezed his thickening bulge. “I was afraid you’d think it was trampy.”

He snickered at that. “Please. You could wear a crotchless fishnet bodystocking and still be elegant.” The thought process played out on his face. “Hey?—”

“No.”

“All right, I’ll give you a pass.” He grinned wickedly. “For now.”

“No!” She halted his closing-in lips with a finger. “Limits, Sever. I have them.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it! I’ll play Beach Bunny, or Secretary, or...” she gestured at her current ensemble, “Bargain-Hunting Barbie with you all you want, but I draw the line at crotchless onesies.”

He heaved a burdened sigh. “Fine, I’ll settle for the fishnet onesie, with crotch. But it won’t last long; I’ll just rip it open with my teeth.”

With a saucy grin, she whispered, “That’s the best part.”

The air between them pulsing like it always did when they smiled at each other, he pulled her close. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days,” she said.

“I want you every day.”

She knew how he felt. Luckily, there weren’t that many steps to the bed.

A Nordstrom bag crumpled beneath her head as Sever lay her down. He cast the bag aside, but it ripped, and its contents spilled out on the bed.

Ivy wasn’t a strict fashionista, she was more a casual admirer who knew what she liked… and this mini dress was exactly her style. “Oh... Holy Vogue , you’re good.”

“Wait ‘til I get your clothes off.” He’d already unzipped her jeans.

“No, this!” She held it up. “That, too—but how do you know women so well?”

“Oh,” he said, and took it from her to give it a look. “I don’t. I mean, I do, but I didn’t pick these out. Andy did.”

“Andy? Who’s Andy?”

“My shopper.” He found a pale pink top. “I may have swayed the color palette a bit.”

Right, of course. Sever didn’t have time to buy his own clothes, let alone hers. As he slid the soft fabric of the top over her shoulder, she asked, “Is that Andi with an I?”

He gave her a cryptic head-tilt. “And if it was?”

“Psh. I don’t care.” She shrugged in support of her not caring. “It’s just... intimate, sometimes, buying clothes for someone. Measuring, and stuff. It doesn’t matter, I mean, it’s fine...”

Sever cracked a smile. “Andy’s a man. And while he might fancy a go at my inseam, that’s my tailor’s job. Also a man. The only females who work for me are at corporate. I have no earthly desire for any of them, I’ve stopped hiring call girls, and all I want,” he paused for effect, “is you. Anything else?”

Chastened, she looked away, but he burned her with a stare.

Quietly, he asked, “Do you still fuck him?”

She’d been expecting this question—eventually. But instead of the speech she’d prepared, she found herself answering with a simple, honest headshake: No.

He kissed her cheek, then her lips. Started peeling off her clothes with increasing fervor. Likewise, she peeled at his. Off with his tie, his dark purple dress shirt, his perfectly tailored slacks...

After yanking off her jeans, he nudged her up the bed, over the buttery soft, luxe fabrics. Ivy tried to speak in between his heady kisses. “We should... mmnh... move this stuff so you can return it.”

“Just take it, love, I know you want it.”

“Sever, no!” she whined. “I can’t accept it or explain it.”

“Keep it here! Take what you want when you want it.” He went back to kissing her.

She pushed his shoulders to force his gaze. “I can’t do that! It’s wrong.”

“How is it wrong if it makes us both happy?”

“Handouts do not make me happy!”

“‘Handouts’?” He looked offended. “ Gifts , Ivy. You’re not a bloody charity case, you’re my lover and I’m giving you a gift.”

“Okay, but, this is not ‘ a’ gift. This is... twenty years of gifts.”

“Guess I need eight more,” he said, and went back to kissing her neck. “For my sweet birthday girl. Daddy loves to spoil you.”

She liked the way he said that, but... “I don’t love being spoiled. I’m not good at accepting gifts.”

“Really,” he said dryly. “You don’t say.”

She chuckled. “Besides, my birthday is over a month away.”

“When I’ll be in Tokyo, and you refuse to come with me.”

“I have a job, I can’t come with you...” She pulled something bulky from behind her head, and... Cue the Jesus choir. In disbelief, she whispered, “Get out.”

He sighed. “What is it now?”

“These boots...” The very ones she’d tried on three times, wished she could justify... “I wanted these boots.”

“Oh, look at you. You’re getting teary-eyed.”

“I am not.” She was not getting emotional over footwear! But she’d never seen anything so her , and so timeless and well made that she could wear them forever. “They’re too expensive, Sever.”

“You deserve it, Ivy.”

“No, I don’t...”

“They’re boots, not a Nobel Prize.”

Failing to hold her ground, she whimpered.

“Come on.” He slipped a finger underneath her belly chain and pouted. “Don’t make poor little Andy lug all this back to the store... all his expertise gone to waste? I mean, look at this.” He emptied another bag, spread its contents around. Tut-tutted at a creamy sandal to die for. “He’ll be so insulted when I tell him you turned this down.”

She swiped the shoe from his grasp. Evil. That’s what he was. “Fine. I will go through everything, and choose enough for two bags. At a reasonable price. After the sex. But it’s not an exchange thing.”

“You think too bloody much,” he rumbled, yanking her panties down her thighs. “Legs up.”

Her legs in the air, she touched the sandal, and spotted the perfect skirt to go with. Oh, god, if she could keep all of this...? Clutching the two items to her naked breast, envisioning her fantasy closet, she wiggled on his tongue and just about came.

Sever laughed. “Oh, I get it.”

She hazarded a peek. “What?”

He climbed up her body with a mischievous gleam. “Look through it now.”

“Now? But... but?—”

“ While I fuck you.” He flipped her onto her belly. Situating himself behind her, he raised her up to hands and knees and said, “One by one. Describe it to me.”

“But there’s... so much.”

He drove into her, making her shout. “Better get started, then.”

“Ohhh... khay.” Fists opening, catching her breath, Ivy tried to focus on the clothes while he speared her with his cock. She picked up the closest item: a houndstooth skirt with a front pleat. Reading the tag, she said, “Shetland tweed, A-line skirt. And, uh... unh ... ooh, matching jacket.” Then she saw the price. “Seven hundred dollars?” she squeaked in shock, then looked at the other tag. “ Apiece ?”

Not breaking his stride, thumbs on her belly chain, he said, “D’you like it?”

“It’s... it’s, um...” She had enough trouble speaking; articulating feelings was a bonus challenge. “It’s cute?—”

He stopped pumping, grabbed her hair to pull her close and ran his fingers down her spine. “Love? Or hate?”

She quivered and welled. “Love.”

“Good,” he breathed. “Put it on the right.”

She put it down on the right side of the bed.

Sever reared back, thrust deep, and said, “Next.”