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

14. Asking For It

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Asking For It

“Re sult ,” he said, instead of ‘hello’. “I was just daydreaming of you.”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t answer the phone like that.”

“Right, uh...” He cleared his throat and started over with, “Oi, who’s this? I don’t recognize this strange number. Shag your wife every chance I get? Why, that’s preposterous; I wouldn’t touch her with a ten inch cock?—”

“Sever?”

“—Seven inch, nice and thick, now that’s a different story.”

“Sever.”

“Yes, love?”

Ivy sped through a yellow light on Beverly Glen. “Are you free for a few hours?”

“It’s uncanny,” he said, eating something crunchy. Maybe an apple. “That’s exactly what you said in my daydream. Only you were here, and you didn’t speak, it was more implied in the way you bent over my desk and let me spank you with a ping pong paddle.”

“Taking that as a yes,” Ivy said, checking her makeup. Eyes smoky, lipstick not on teeth... “Are you in your den?”

“Yes I am in my ‘den’, you adorable Yank. Why do you ask?”

She turned left onto Wyton Drive. “Do you trust me?”

There was a momentary pause, but his answer was resolute: “Completely.”

“Good. ‘Cause I have a horrible idea.”

He chuckled, low and languid, “I like it already.”

“Well, I hope you like it.” Please like it. “I mean, if not, we can always fall back on the ping pong scenario...”

“Pet. I will like any scenario that makes you squirm.”

Ivy summoned her bravado: “Oh, I’m not gonna be the one squirming, Sever.”

That tripped him up nicely. “Is that right?”

“That’s right. Now, I’m going to hang up, and you’re going to wait for me like the good boy you’re not.”

She ended the call, exhaled, and rolled up to his gate.

“Here I am, waiting.” Sever leaned back in his desk chair, hands behind his head, one brow arched in amusement and intrigue at the sight of her all gussied up. “What do I win?”

Working her cherry red lips, Ivy opened her trenchcoat to reveal a skin-tight black latex push-up corset and thigh-high stiletto boots... with nothing in between.

The arched brow? Dropped.

A bitch to drive in, but worth that expression alone.

She let the coat fall to the floor, placed her hands on her hips and circled a fingertip over the hickey he’d left there. “You’ve been a bad boy, Daddy.”

His eyes lit up, his adam’s apple bobbed, and he rasped, “I have.”

“Bad boys,” she said, hip-switching toward him, “need to be punished. N’est-ce pas?”

She actually saw his breath catch before he said, “ Oui .”

Oh, he was into this. He was way into this. And she was swiftly getting into it, too. This might be fun for everyone.

“Now, if you were a long, black whip...” She approached his side of the desk and ran her fingers along the edge, “where would you be?”

Keeping a careful eye on her, he opened a low drawer with his foot. The snake whip was poking out of a hanging file folder.

If she didn’t know him so well, she might have been more surprised. “Are all your files this kinky?”

He gave her a deviant little grin.

Whip in hand, she kicked the drawer shut. “If you’re afraid, you should be.” But then she broke character to say, “But also don’t be, because I know how to use this. Three days of lessons at Dungeon East.”

He looked impressed.

Anyway, back to business. Coiling the whip in one hand, she said, “Do you know what’s inside you, making you behave like this?” She leaned forward until her eyes were level with his. “Demons.”

His lashes fluttered, and he swallowed, entranced.

“Some people think demons can be scared off,” Ivy said. “But demons don’t leave. They sleep. And I’m gonna wake ‘em all up.”

She searched his spellbound expression. It didn’t say I’m disturbed so much as Step on me, Mommy .

So far, so good.

Grabbing his hair, she dug her knee into his groin and slid the whip handle over his cheekbone, down his throat, over his clothes. “And then, I’ll put every single one of them in their place. At my feet.”

“ Ivy ,” he breathed, as she teased the whip over his scrotum.

She moved to his ear and whispered, “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he said, gulping. “Yes. Don’t you dare hold back.”

“We could have a safe word?—”

Adamantly, he shook his head. “No safe words. This isn’t a game.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” She squeezed his clothed erection. “But I can’t promise I won’t have a little fun.”

That got a smile out of him. “Me either.”

“Fine.” She raised her chin. “Your safe word is ‘Oh god, please stop, I can’t take it anymore.’”

The smile widened. “Not bloody likely.”

“We’ll see.”

“One thing,” he said, mesmerized by her lips. “Room’s a bit bare now. I threw everything out, all that’s left is the cross.”

He’d officially retired his torture chamber once he’d whipped and choked her in it? Aww, that was so sweet... Or... something.

“The cross, this whip, that’s all I need,” she said, and took a deep breath. “ Es-tu prêt ?” Was he ready for this?

“Je suis prêt,” he replied. Yes, he was ready.

“No talking,” she said, wedging the whip handle between his teeth. “You don’t speak.”

There was a hint of mirth in his fiery glower.

She pinched his throat. “Get out of my chair.” He ascended with her rising arm, jaw flexing as he bit into the whip handle.

“You haven’t earned that yet,” she said, and held her palms up.

He opened his mouth to let it fall, and, possibly for the first time ever, kept silent.

“Good boy.” She ran the whip handle down his shirt buttons. “Now go out there, lose the clothes, and come back as my hired pet.”

He gave her a carnal glare, kicked the chair back, and did what he was told.

Ivy placed the whip on its designated spot on the rug, and sat in his chair. When she spun toward the wall, she noticed an antique mirror, positioned in such a way that its warped surface gave a nearly-full view of the room. Like a domed security mirror—but blurry and four hundred years old.

So he had been watching her when she marched into this room for the first time, when she assumed he knew who she was and why was there. But he didn’t, and he treated her like a package delivery.

Now, that same man was standing in her place. Naked. Apprehensive. And completely at her mercy. It was more than a little gratifying.

She turned toward him, feigning boredom. “Well? You know what to do, ‘pet’.”

Eyes never leaving hers, he slowly lowered to his knees. How did he still look so strong and proud and sexy when he was being emasculated and debased? Maybe that was the point...

Anyway, she was in charge here. “Time’s a-wastin’, mon petit tigre . Things to do, demons to enslave...”

Moving to all fours, he crept across the floor and out of her eye line.

Crossing her legs, she pinched the springy latex of her boot and snapped it. It was amazing what clothes like this did to a man... and to the girl wearing them. Five minutes in and already she was drunk with power. Dark, corruptive power...

Was she taking this too far? Would this dig up old skeletons that were better off buried? Was it a risk worth taking, just to push a boundary or two in the name of psychosexual exploration? Should she call this off right now?

Sever rounded the corner, whip trailing alongside him, and she saw the spark in his eyes. It wasn’t just flickering, it was raging into an all-out inferno.

Too far or not, he really wanted this.

And he wasn’t the only one. Disciplining Daddy? Ivy’s latest surprise kink.

He rose to a kneel and, hands behind his back, bowed his head. That subtle action in itself was so tingle-inducing that Ivy was tempted to halt the whole production, push him to the floor and ride him cowgirl until she had at least three orgasms... but instead, she said, “Drop it.”

The whip landed in her lap.

She spread her knees and teased the thick, rounded handle on her slick labia.

He watched intently, wetting his lips.

She parted his teeth with the tip of the handle, eased it in like a cock, and cooed in French, “Suck on it, kitten.”

And suck on it, he did. He fellated that whip so eagerly, so sensually and so convincingly that she could almost feel it.

“Whoa-kay!” She tore it out of his mouth, but she was the one panting. “That’s... Moving on.”

He snickered, which was cute, yes, but totally unacceptable.

“I’m sorry, do you think this is a game?” All else fails, throw his own words back at him. She got out of her chair to shove his smirky little face to the floor, and stepped on his neck. “It’s not.”

Caged by her boot, he let out a strangled, blissful groan.

“Stay.” While Ivy dealt with the fact that Sever Mark was a latent bottom who’d very possibly been waiting all his adult life for the right girl to come along and whip him senseless, she felt around for the dungeon switch.

In her periphery, she spotted a familiar color pattern on a photograph stowed beneath his laptop. Curious, she slid it out. The pattern was her bedspread, and the photograph was of her. It was the self-portrait she’d taken with her phone, blown up into a glossy print.

It was just head-and-shoulders, but her shoulders were bare. She didn’t think of it at the time, but in this context, it looked like glaring, flashing evidence of their affair. As if he’d taken it, right there on the bed she shared with Jason.

But then, in this context—Sever squashed under her boot, gurgling and huffing and straining to get a peep at her crotch—that thought only turned her on.

God, she was as pervy as he was.

Ivy hid the picture, flipped the switch and said, “Crawl.”

Sever began his naked, all-fours trek across the Persian rug toward the secret room. Like he had, she cracked the whip in the air, followed by a soft snap on his back.

She was so glad she’d looked into whip technique before attempting this. Snake whips in particular were far more dangerous than she’d known. The fact that he didn’t cut her to pieces when he’d lost his cool was a testament to his skill and learned restraint. In any case, she knew how to go easy while giving the illusion of violence.

When he stopped crawling to process the pain, it thrilled her just a little to be able to taunt him with his own words. “Did I tell you you could stop?”

He kept going, and took the rest of his lashes like a champ.

As promised, the room was bare. The noose, the riding seat, the wall selection... everything but the cross had been removed. Except for that duffel bag. Which she would investigate as soon as he was bound.

She kind of hoped he’d get another riding seat; that thing was amazing. And she didn’t hate being tied up to that cross while she rode it.

It wasn’t the same type of X-shaped cross they sold at the bondage shop, it was authentic. Old. It had been lacquered, but not refinished: the wood was pitted and scratched, spattered with dark stains. There were metal rings in place of crucifixion points and tarnished chains wrapped around its neck. It was at least four feet tall, the kind that a zealot might carry on a pilgrimage—but it was made of such solid wood, that clearly wasn’t the purpose.

The last time she was here, she wondered if it was more than a prop, that it might be the cross his mother had forced him—and Jason—to endure, but she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about it now, either.

She hit a switch on the wall to close them in, and said in French, “Hands to heaven.”

He immediately complied.

As she shackled his wrists, he said, “There’s a mirror?—”

“Hey! You know the penalty for talking, don’t you?” She grabbed his face, met his gaze. “Pain. Extra pain.”

He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t aroused by that. She couldn’t pretend, either.

Then she whispered, “What mirror?”

Nodding toward the wall that he faced, he whispered, “Behind the curtain.”

She looked at the deep red velvet curtain hanging on the wall in front of the cross. She hadn’t considered that it was covering anything. She thought it was just a way to showcase the cross, like a centerpiece. As if there were interior designers for sex dungeons.

There was a pull beside it, and when she tugged, a wide floor-to-ceiling mirror was revealed.

She thought out loud, “Why didn’t you open it for me?”

“I didn’t want to see your face while I hurt you.”

Well, okay, that was fair. But then, “You want me to see yours?”

He shook his head. “I want to watch you hurt me.”

Oh. Why was that kind of a turn on for her? That, plus his erection was squashed against the cross and it looked uncomfortable, but... hot.

She strolled around the cross and stopped directly behind him. Ran the whip handle up his back, to his neck. “It’s not that I want to hurt you,” she said, slowly coiling the whip around his throat. “I have to. It’s for the greater good.” Roughly, she pulled the whip taut and hissed at his ear, “Mama’s gotta get the demons out of Daddy.”

He let out a groan of sheer approval.

“I think I hear one now.” She placed her boot on his back and yanked, making him sputter and thrash. “Here, little demon...” When he turned purple, she unraveled the whip and said, “There you are.”

He waited, panting.

“You worthless dog.” Crack!

“Oh, yeah ,” he said, loving this, and Ivy could finally see why.

He loved it when she said those words, because with her, it was different. It was new. It was theirs . The more she made it theirs, the less his mother had anything to do with it. The more of his past they reclaimed, the less power it held.

In French, she said, “Shut your mouth, vermin.”

“Yeah?” he defied her in English. “And what if I don’t?”

“Ooh! Asking for it.” She swung and struck him. He rejoiced.

She saw the duffel bag in the reflection, and whispered a command in his ear: “Don’t move a muscle.”

Inside the bag, she found rope, metal pinwheels, nipple clamps, dildos and plugs and dilators of varying sizes. Beneath those were unopened packages, multiple copies of each toy, and 0ther sex dungeon essentials, like desensitizing lube, and something called a “lube launcher.” Learn something new every day.

“I was gonna throw it all away,” he said, voice soft and hoarse. “But...”

“But you couldn’t,” she said provocatively, picking out a large, twisty, spiky boy and meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Because you’re sick .” She ran the hard black silicone down her neck, over her corset-enhanced décolleté. “Aren’t you?”

Mesmerized, he nodded.

She walked toward him with the bag, squatted at his side, and turned the dildo in her hands. “You’ve made so many women take this, haven’t you? While the demons inside you get alllll excited....” She teased her fingers down the pointed knobs. “They need to know they can’t do that.” She pushed it against his balls. “Not without my permission.”

His cock jumped as he moaned.

“Did I tell you you could move?” Through clenched teeth, she said, “Bad demon.”

He growled. And it was sexy. But she digressed.

Taking her time, making him wait, she opened a copy of Spiky Boy, the lube and the launcher. A quick scan of the directions, and she had a full syringe of lube. Leaning against his welt-covered back, she inserted the syringe and filled him with lube. “Bad demons get punished. And so do the boys who keep them inside.”

Judging by his nonverbal response, she was on the right track.

She dripped a little lube directly on the dildo, and carefully nudged it into him, not sure where to stop.

“Further,” he said, panting. “Kick it in. Do it hard.”

“You’re not in charge here,” she said. She wanted to please him, but kick it in? She didn’t want to hurt him.

So, she wrapped an arm around his waist and used her knee to plunge it in. She wanted to ask if it hurt, but instead she opted for the question he’d asked her when she was in this position. When he wanted to know if she’d taken as much as she could. “Is that it?”

He nodded, gulped.

Then she stood and let the whip sing once more. “You worthless dog!”

He cried out in ecstasy.

When she hit him again, he said, “Choke me, Ivy. Please...”

There was something so arousing about the way he begged, coupled with her name. So she indulged him. Let him sputter and choke until she recognized his body language: he was about to come.

Before he could, she released him. He coughed.

She caught her breath, too. That was fucking hot. Which gave her an idea: “You know, I think I’m having a change of heart.”

Panting, he met her eyes in the mirror.

“The more I get to know your demons, the more I kinda like them.” She eased the dildo out of him, making him groan, and began to unshackle his wrists. “I might let them stay. But first, they need to prove their worth.”

Freed, he slumped.

“Move back,” she said, and he got out of her way. Standing between him and the cross, facing him, she slung one leg over his shoulder and said, “Eat up, demons.”

Sever followed that command with gusto: with a deep growl, he used his lips, his hands, his tongue.

Done with being in control, Ivy let him push her against the cross and devour her. “That’s a... good little demon...”

He didn’t let up.

Holding the rings for support, she agitated against his tongue.

He moaned into her again, and she felt her face heat up, felt her chest nearly explode, and then... sweet, euphoric release. It was so potent, she could barely breathe.

Wait, maybe it was the corset. She could still see fireworks before her eyes. Was that normal? “I think I’m gonna die.”

He brought her down to him. “I got you.”

She came out of her blind haze when he’d loosened the last laces in her corset. “Oh... I’m on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he said, above her, touching her hair and smiling at her. “Demons got the better of you.”

Calming her breath, she said, “They’re crafty.”

“So are you. Tiny tyrant.”

He began to gently disengage as if they were done, but she grasped his arm. “Not so fast, mon petit tigre .”

He raised a brow, and she instructed, “On your back.”

“Are you sure? You’re?—”

“On. Your. Back.”

Convinced, he rolled off and lay beside her. She moved over him, craned his cock to her still very drenched pussy, and sat down. Riding him, she met his gaze, and held it for a long while.

When she felt him getting close, she clutched his neck and said, “You’re doing so good, Daddy.”

His eyes rolled up. “Hahh...”

“You and your demons are doing so good.”

“Fhh...”

“That’s a good boy,” she said, tightening her grip on his throat, “Come for Maman .”

Eyes on hers, he made the sweetest, most heartbroken cry she’d ever heard, and came into her.

When it was over, he squeezed her tighter than a corset.

After a hushed, reverential afterglow, he held her close in his shower. They dressed in silence, and she began to wonder if he was okay. Had she retraumatized him, and was he just feeling it now? Why wasn’t talking at all?

They dined in an outdoor enclave on his estate, surrounded by soft light and night jasmine. Ivy dotted the silence with comments about the wine, the food, and finally, the weather. “It’s such a warm night. Usually it’s so cold.”

He let that sit for a moment. “Do you expect me to make small talk with you?”

“No. Maybe, I don’t know!” Now he was laughing at her. “You’ve been so quiet.”

“Well, yeah. You blew my mind tonight.” He poured himself more wine. “Not much to say, unless you want to make big talk. Big talk, I can do.”

Ivy pushed a kale leaf across her plate. Big talk, she didn’t want to hear. “Small talk is easier.”

“Not for me.”

“You can’t talk about the weather?”

“It’s a lovely night, marry me.” She dropped her fork. “Well, I tried.”

Marry me ? Marry...? At least he didn’t hate her. Was she blushing? Could he see it? “Not hard enough.”

“Fearlessness becomes you, love.” He raised his glass. “You should try it more often.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Smiling to himself, he shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s talk weather. London’s brilliant this time of year; want to see it?”

“Wh... London?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow, got a few meetings this week. Come along. It’ll be fun.”

She gave him a look. “Tomorrow. Like I could possibly get away with that.”

“Be fearless,” he said. “Put on your shiny boots and corset and beat the snot out of everything you’re scared of.”

“I’m not— scared of you.” Is that what he thought? “You think I did that ‘cause I’m scared of you?”

He shrugged. “Me, us... This.”

“What? No, I’m...” Couldn’t they just enjoy what they had? She couldn’t handle the pressure. “God, no matter what I give you, you always want more .”

“That’s because I’m in love with you, and I don’t see you wanting less.”

He thought she was asking him for more? Was she? No! Her head was starting to hurt. “You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Am I? Then tell me, Ivy, what was all this?”

“All what?”

“Why’d you go out of your way to do this for me? Buy an outfit, dream up a nasty scenario... take three days of what I imagine is very expensive whip training?”

“Why are you asking me this? We’re having an affair, Sever.”

“You came here to indulge my fantasies, not yours. To push my limits, without my ever having to ask. What do you think that means?”

“It means I’m an attentive lover.”

He tutted. “Right. Give your husband this sort of attention, do you?”

Ivy pushed out her chair. “Thank you for dinner.”

He caught her by the elbow as she stood, “Oh, come on now, don’t?—”

Failing to wrest free, she peered down at him from under a furrowed brow. Eyes wide and searching, he tugged her closer.

Their lips met first, and didn’t come apart even as they wrestled. Dishes and silverware clattering to the ground, he fucked her spasmodically on the patio table.

There was no more talk that night, big or small.