Page 21 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

I vy

“Big mouth.” I clamp my hand over my lips the moment Andreas is out of my sight. Why did I ramble on like that about having a therapist? I bet the last thing a man like Andreas wants is a woman who’s “crazy.”

“ Therapy is for the weak. We don’t do weak in this household.”

My mother’s words send a chill down my spine. The first time one of my school counselors mentioned taking me to a therapist, my mother all but called the woman a failure for not being anything more than a lowly high school counselor right in front of me.

“ It’s sad that your parents never had higher aspirations for you, but as for my children, we do not settle for ‘good enough.’ All Ivy needs is more discipline and focus. And less talking with people like you.”

That was the last time anyone at my high school tried to broach the possibility of therapy with either one of my parents.

Andreas is probably in his room now trying to figure out a way to get me out of his house. Ms. Shelby hops on the couch beside me, purring. I get the feeling she senses my inner turmoil.

Before I can reach out to her, footsteps from down the hall sound.

Ms. Shelby leaps off the couch and goes back to the scratching post that’s positioned in the corner of the room.

When I saw it earlier, I wondered if Andreas had gotten it just for Ms. Shelby since he doesn’t seem to have any cats of his own.

But if so, why would he do that?

“This is for you,” he says, his smooth, soft voice crashing in on my thoughts. He places a vintage copy of Vogue magazine from 1974 with Beverly Johnson on the cover.

“Wh-What is this?”

“This,” he draws out his answer, pulling me into his arms again until my back’s perched against his chest. He’s firm and steady beneath me.

“Is one of the magazines from your list.”

My heart pounding in my ears makes it a little difficult to comprehend. It’s been years since I looked at this cover, and even longer since I held the actual magazine in my hands.

“It was the first one on your list.”

I nod.

Words evade me because a lump forms in my throat. The face on the cover doubles as my vision blurs. I blink away the moisture pooling in my eyes before running my hand over the outline of Beverly Johnson’s face.

“How did you …”

I just gave him the list yesterday.

“I have a connection,” he answers.

Andreas begins running his knuckles up and down my arms as I continue to gaze at the magazine.

“I’ll find them all for you,” he promises after a few beats of silence.

I turn to face him, searching his eyes for answers to the questions whirling inside of me.

“You don’t think it’s weird I have a therapist?” The question comes out before it’s even fully formed in my mind.

He cocks his head to the side. “Why the hell would I think that? Do you know where you are?” He grins.

“At least eighty percent of the people in this city have a therapist,” he comments. “And the other twenty percent definitely need one.”

We both chuckle, and I shake my head.

“I have a panic disorder,” I tell him, my voice low. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a panic attack, but I’m not cured or anything.”

He moves his fingers underneath my chin, lifting my gaze until it meets his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “Not really. But I thought you should know.”

Why I wanted him to know is a mystery to me.

He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. The kiss, although sensual, is also sweet, comforting in a way that I didn’t know I needed.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, his lips nearly brushing mine.

I glance down at the magazine in my lap. “Thank you for everything.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to his, needing to feel him. Before I can get a hold of myself, I climb into his lap, straddling him. Andreas lets me, pulling me by the hips into his body so I can feel how much he wants me.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for a Hollywood star, but no matter how much I fight it, I don’t think I can stop it.

Andreas

I cup Ivy’s face between my hands and pull away from the kiss. Both of us are breathing heavily.

Her dazed gaze searches mine, confusion wrinkling the space between her eyebrows.

“Inviting you over tonight wasn’t about sex. I wanted you to be here when I got home. I like the idea of you being here, comfortable in my home.”

“Oh,” she says before moving her teeth to her bottom lip.

A groan pushes through my lips.

“And now I want to fuck you, Ivy. For as long as you’ll let me.”

Her breathing, which had started to calm, speeds up again. A vein in her neck pulses, beckoning me to touch her there. When I run my finger along the vein, her body trembles.

“Then fuck me,” she says just above a whisper. Ivy runs a hand over my cheek, down to my shoulder, and over my arm. “I want to know what it’s like to be fucked by Andreas Knight.”

I shake my head. “Townsend.”

Her forehead wrinkles.

“Knight is my stage name. Tonight, Andreas Townsend is the only man you’re dealing with.”

“Townsend,” she says again, as if feeling it out.

The only name she’ll know me by from here on out is my real name. Not the name meant for the public or my career.

“Remember it, baby.” I pull her into me, bringing our mouths less than an inch apart. “Because when I make you mine, Townsend is the last name you’ll carry.”

She gasps at the same time I pull her in for another soul-shattering kiss. This time I don’t dare break the kiss. Instead, I lift both of us from the couch and carry her into the master bedroom.

Ivy’s hands squeeze my shoulders as she clings to me, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt anything better. I lower her to the side of the bed to undress her. Her hands are as busy as mine as we unclothe one another.

My stomach muscles ripple when Ivy runs her hand over them. Her gaze shoots up to mine as if she’s amazed.

“Every time you touch me, you have that effect on me.”

My body always reacts to her. I stand her up again and undo the button of her jeans before yanking them down around her ankles. The hitch of breath she pulls in from surprise, forces me to pull her in for another kiss.

“Keep making those sounds for me, baby,” I say against her lips before slipping my free hand against the lace seam of her panties. “Did you think about me when you put these panties on this morning?”

“Yes,” she confesses, and my dick goes rock hard. As if it wasn’t already hard enough, it painfully strains against my pants at her admission.

“I love it when you tell me the truth.”

I press a kiss to her lips at the same time I press my fingers against her button below. A moan breaks free from her lips. I need to have my mouth on her right now.

“I need to taste you.” I don’t bother hiding the urgency in my voice. A second later, I have Ivy’s legs splayed and my head between her thighs.

The first taste of her on my tongue is a sweetness I’ve never known. My second thought is that I could drown right here in her pussy and I’d go out a happy man. But I refuse to die before hearing her moan for me, not before I make her come on my tongue.

Before long, Ivy tightens her thighs around me, slightly raising her hips, as if urging for more. I do my best to make her wait for it, knowing the buildup makes the outcome that much sweeter.

After teasing her clit with my tongue, I move to her lips, savoring every inch of her body.

I insert one finger, then two into her canal. She’s slick and on the verge of coming. Within seconds, her legs quiver and her pussy muscles begin spasming, gripping my fingers. Her orgasm rushes over her entire body, setting both of us on fire.

Instead of sating the heated need within me, hearing her sexy ass moans and the rising and searching of her hips all work to increase the burning desire to get lost inside of her.

I want more of my mouth on her, but Ivy begins pulling me toward her. Obliging her, I cover her body with mine, bringing our lips together. Ivy cups my face and outlines my lips with her tongue, tasting herself on me.

“Fuck!” I growl. “You have no fucking idea how crazy you make me.”

Her kiss-swollen lips spread into a grin, indicating she might have the slightest idea. However, there remains an uncertainty in her eyes. I don’t know if it’s my feelings she’s unsure of or her own, but I plan to squash any remaining doubt of where she stands with me.

I cover her mouth with mine again, at the same time settling myself between her legs. We both groan when my cock comes into contact with her slick opening. Instinct takes over, and I start to position myself at her channel, but Ivy’s hands on my shoulders stop me.

I pull away from the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

“Protection,” she gasps out.

“Shit,” I growl, completely forgetting something I’ve never forgotten since I first had sex at sixteen.

For a second, I start to say to hell with a condom, but I know Ivy’s not ready for that.

I search the top drawer of my nightstand next to my bed for the pack of condoms and pull one out. Instead of allowing my urgency to lead the way, I sit up on my knees and hold the golden packet out for her to take.

“Put it on me.”

The brush of her fingers against my hand as she takes the condom sends shivers racing through me. I have to tamp down on the desire to rip the damn thing open, put it on, and pound into her.

I watch Ivy’s trembling hands as she unwraps the condom and reaches for my shaft. She pinches the condom, then places it over my tip. My eyes remain glued to her hands as she rolls the condom down my shaft.

“Fuckkk,” I groan from the feel of her on me, even through the latex of the condom.

As soon as the damn thing’s unraveled, I pull her into me, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist. I push into her hot, wet channel, and we both let out moans of satisfaction.

“You feel so fucking good,” I mumble against her mouth.

“Shit,” she curses before cupping my face and pulling me in for a kiss as if she needs it for grounding. Her hands move to my shoulders, squeezing and holding on. I recognize it for the plea it is: not to let her go.

So, I don’t.

I lay her back against the bed and move in and out of her, driving us both to the edge. Every time her pussy tightens or her legs begin to quiver as if she’s about to come, I pull back. I don’t want this to end too soon.

While I know this will not be our last time, I don’t want to rush through our first time together. I kiss Ivy everywhere I can reach with my mouth from this position. I lick and savor the taste of her sweet skin on my tongue.

Nowhere, though, feels as incredible as that fucking mouth. When I move my hand to Ivy’s clit, the moan that breaks free of that mouth will stick with me for the rest of my life. I will fall asleep each night from here on out to the song of her pleasure.

“Please, Andreas, please,” she begs while gripping my shoulders.

“Do you want to come, baby?”

“Yes. Oh God, yes!”

“Wrong answer, baby. My name’s not God,” I taunt. “Say it. Tell me who’s about to make you come all over this dick.”

“A-And,” she pants but doesn’t get out my entire name.

I drive halfway into her while moving my thumb away from her clit, lightening the pressure on her clit and G-spot at the same time.

She mewls and digs her fingernails into my shoulder, showing her displeasure, which makes me chuckle.

“Say my full name, baby, and I’ll let you come.”

“Andreas, please, Andreas!”

“That’s it, baby,” I say before driving back into her until our pelvises touch.

Ivy’s hips raise, meeting me stroke for stroke.

A beat later, her already tight pussy strangles my cock, her muscles pulsing as her orgasm rips through her.

I watch her eyes roll back, her head thrown against the pillow, and her lips parted in a silent scream. Yet her arms cling to me. I’m her anchor. Even as she spirals into the abyss of pleasure, it’s me she reaches for.

It’s that thought that has my orgasm crashing through me. My vision goes black, but within a beat, the same images of me and Ivy together play out in my mind’s eye. If there was any left, all doubt is erased from my mind.

Ivy is mine.