Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

IVY

The second the penthouse door clicks shut, Jackson is on me.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

One second, catching my breath from the elevator ride up, and the next?

I’m pressed against the door, his hands gripping my thighs, lifting me off the floor.

“This is mine,” he growls, his big palm sliding down over my belly, under my dress, possessive and protective all at once. “You. This.” He squeezes my thigh, his lips trailing fire along my jaw.

His words send a shudder straight through me.

I whimper, legs wrapping around his waist.

One of his hands snaps up, gripping my throat as he grinds against me, hard and thick, the fabric of his pants pressing into the fabric of my panties.

The need in his eyes? Feral. Desperate.

I’m not sure either of us can make it to the bedroom.

“Jackson,” I gasp, my breath catching as his fingers dig into my thigh, his grip possessive, demanding. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

His eyes burn into mine, dark with pure, unfiltered need. “Yeah? Tell me how bad you want this, Ivy.”

“So bad.” My voice comes out desperate, already wrecked, already aching.

“Well as much as you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it more .”

That’s all it takes.

A growl rumbles through him, and in a blur, he lifts me off my feet, carrying me through the dimly lit penthouse, his strides purposeful, his body taut with restraint he’s barely holding onto.

I barely register where we are until my back presses against the cool glass, the city sprawling a thousand feet below us.

Lights twinkle. Headlights blur. The world is right there, oblivious.

And Jackson looks like he’s about to ruin me.

His hands slide down my waist, palming my ass, molding my body to his. “Strip for me, baby.”

I shiver as I reach for the straps of my dress, my fingers unsteady, peeling it off inch by inch, letting it pool at my feet.

Now, I stand before him in a delicate lace bra, matching panties…

And heels.

Jackson’s gaze devours me, roaming over every exposed inch of my skin. Then, just as I start to unbuckle the straps of my stilettos, his hand shoots out, catching my wrist.

“No.” His voice is gravel, command, heat.

I blink, pulse hammering. “No?”

He steps closer, his big hands trailing down my calves, his voice rough, low. “Leave them on.” His fingers press into my thighs, dragging up to my hips. “Fuck, baby. I want to fuck you in these.”

A shaky exhale leaves my lips, every nerve in my body lighting up.

Jackson’s lips curl into a smirk—because he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

He steps back, just slightly. Taking me in. Making me wait.

His head tilts. “You know what I see?”

I swallow, my skin buzzing under his gaze. “What?”

He reaches down, palming himself through his pants, watching the way my eyes track every movement, my breath coming faster, heavier.

He sees everything.

Every little twitch of my fingers. The way my thighs press together, desperate for friction. The way I’m already so wrecked and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

His lips brush my ear, hot, commanding. “I see a girl who is about to be claimed. So, let them see, baby. Let the whole city know you’re mine. Someone is probably out there with binoculars, watching us. I say, let ‘em watch. He wishes he had a woman like you.”

A full-body shiver wracks through me.

Jackson reaches behind me, fingertips trailing along my spine, teasing at the clasp of my bra. He doesn’t unhook it. Not yet. He lets it sit there, loose, waiting, while his other hand grips my hip—anchoring me, possessing me.

“Take it off.”

My breath catches.

Slowly, I reach up.

I slide the straps down my arms, teasing myself as much as him, my nipples tightening from the cool air and his heated gaze.

The second my bra falls to the floor, Jackson curses under his breath, his jaw clenching so hard it could shatter. His gaze darkens, pure hunger, pure possession, pure fucking need.

He palms my breasts, his big hands rough and warm, his thumbs flicking over my aching peaks.

I let out a shaky breath. I feel so fucking wanted.

So devoured. So worshipped.

Jackson smirks against my skin. “That’s my good girl.”

And then—he drops to his knees.

Oh.

Oh my God.

He pulls my panties down to the floor. Then his hands grip my thighs, spreading me open, his breath hot against my skin.

He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the inside of my thigh while his big hands wrap around, squeezing my ass, then the next, teasing, tormenting, making me whimper.

I grip his hair, dizzy with pleasure.

“Patience.” He presses another slow, torturous kiss against my core.

I cry out, my forehead hitting the glass, the cold surface a contrast to the heat licking through my veins.

Jackson groans against me, his mouth relentless, licking, sucking, teasing until I’m right on the edge.

And then he makes me watch.

He grips my chin and tilts my face so I see our reflection in the window.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me. I want you to watch, too.”

My body shatters—trembling, arching, gasping his name, as pleasure crashes over me.

Jackson doesn’t let up. Not even a little.

He rises to his feet, flips me around, pressing me against the glass, and drags his zipper down.

Oh my god.

I can see his hard length reflected in the window, right next to me in my stilettos.

Thick. Hard as steel.

When I feel the heat of him pressing against me, teasing me, dragging along my soaked entrance, I whimper.

Jackson groans, gripping my hips, spreading me wider. His chest presses against my back, pinning me tight against the cold glass.

“You think you can just take me out like that on the road?” he rasps, voice thick with hunger.

“You liked it,” I mutter.

“Damn right I did. You’re fucking gorgeous, and I love how dirty you are. It’s like you were made for me. You see how wrecked you are? How bad you need me?”

“I need you so bad,” I somehow manage to answer.

I can barely think.

“Do you see how bad I need you?”

He teases me, rubbing his tip over my entrance.

I whimper, my nails tapping into the glass. “Wait, baby. Something’s not right,” I say.

Jackson drags his cock slowly along my soaked entrance, his thick head teasing me, pressing inside just an inch?—

Then pulling back. “What?”

A hot, wicked tease.

“I’m naked, and you’re still dressed.”

Jackson’s gaze darkens, his lips curving into that slow, devastating smirk that makes my knees weak.

"Yeah?" His voice is a low, husky rasp, teasing, knowing. "You wanna fix that, baby?"

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry as he reaches for the first button of his shirt.

And then—he takes his time.

He pops open one button. Then another.

Every movement is deliberate. Predatory. His abs flex, the carved lines of muscle revealed inch by inch as he shrugs out of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor in a careless heap.

I swear I stop breathing.

His eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, like he’s daring me to look away. Like he wants me to feel every single second of this.

He undoes his belt next, the clink of the buckle sending a fresh pulse of heat straight between my thighs.

I watch, utterly transfixed, as he takes off his shoes and socks, then unzips his pants, pushing them down in one smooth motion, his briefs straining against the hard, thick evidence of his need for me.

God, I’m so gone.

His fingers hook into the waistband, and my breath catches as he finally shoves them down, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip.

“Better?” He grins.

“Much better.”

I lick my lips, heat pooling low in my belly, my thighs pressing together at the sheer devastation of this man standing before me.

Jackson steps closer, his big hands framing my waist, his warmth wrapping around me.

And then—he kisses me.

Soft. Slow. Like he has all the time in the world.

Like he’s revering me. Like he’s claiming me.

Like he’s already planning to ruin me all over again.

His hands glide over my skin, mapping, memorizing, before he lifts me effortlessly, pressing me against the glass.

His lips brush against my ear, his voice dark, hungry, and all-consuming.

“Good. I can’t believe I got so ahead of myself I forgot to take them off. Now let’s see how loud I can make you scream.”

He turns me around to face the city again, his hands firm on my hips. “One thing though,” he purrs, his voice low and steady. “Ivy, baby, if you’re uncomfortable in any way, at any time, I need you to tell me. Okay? This is new for me too.”

His words sink into my skin like warmth spreading through my veins. He’s thinking about me. About us.

“Okay. Thanks. That means a lot.” My heart does a slow, molten flip. Somehow, his caring communication only makes me ache more for him.

Finally, he presses inside. I choke on a breath, pushing my hips back, needing more, needing all of him. But his grip tightens, holding me still, forcing me to take it slow.

His lips graze my ear, his voice dark and smug. “Did you forget what it’s like to take me?”

I bite my lip, heat pooling in my core.

He presses in again—another inch.

Just enough to make me shudder, to make me clench around nothing.

Then, he pulls back again.

I groan, fisting my hands. “That’s it. Give me more.”

“Shhh, baby.” He grips my hips, holding me steady as he drags his cock over me again, slick, teasing. “I want to hear you beg.”

I swallow hard, my entire body trembling.

I can’t. I won’t.

Except I already am.

“Please.” My voice is wrecked, desperate. “Jackson, please fuck me.”

He lets out a low, dark chuckle.

"Every night, Ivy." His voice is a rough whisper against my neck. “You think I really fucking forgot about you? I never did. I never could.”

His cock presses inside again—deeper this time.

Stretching me. Filling me.

Then, pulling back out.

I whine, shaking. “Jackson, fuck. It’s so good.”

He groans, deep and primal, his grip tightening on my hips.

“Fuck, I love hearing you like this.”

Another inch.

Deeper.

Then he stills.

Lets me feel it.

Feel all of him, heavy and thick inside me, before he pulls back again.

I let out a frustrated, choked sound.

Jackson just grins.

Then, he gives me everything.

Deep.

So fucking deep.

I cry out, my forehead hitting the glass, my breasts pressing against it, nipples pebbling against the cold surface while my core heats from the inside out.

Jackson growls low in his throat, gripping my hips tighter.

“Jesus Christ, Ivy. You feel like fucking heaven.”

His hand snaps up, gripping my throat, tilting my head to the side so our eyes meet in the reflection.

His jaw? Clenched.

His eyes? Blazing.

And his cock?

Stretching me so perfectly I can feel every single inch.

He pulls back—then slams into me again.

And again.

Fucking me deep. Raw. Like he’s claiming me.

The window rattles with every brutal thrust.

I claw at the glass, my moans turning to desperate, breathless gasps between the sound of his hips slapping against the skin of my ass.

“Yeah, baby? You like that?” His teeth graze my ear, his breath hot. “You like feeling me this fucking deep?”

I nod frantically, legs shaking, body going weak.

He snaps his hips harder.

I scream his name.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans. “Scream for me. Let the whole damn city hear how good I make you feel.”

One of his hands slides down my stomach, between my legs, his fingers finding that spot?—

And when he rubs me just right—just perfectly?—

I explode.

Deep. Shattering.

Like he’s just pressed a button inside me, triggering a tidal wave, dragging me under.

I thrash beneath him, pleasure crashing through me like a tidal wave.

My vision goes white.

I can feel myself clenching, trembling, my entire body spasming around his cock, dragging him deeper into me.

But Jackson doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t slow.

He grips my hips, holding me still, letting me ride it out, fucking me through it.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice thick, rough, wrecked. “You were made for me.”

My breath stutters, my body trembling from the aftershocks.

Then, he pulls out.

I collapse against the glass, spent and shaking, gasping for air.

But he’s not done with me.

Not even close.

Jackson grabs my hand, pulling me away from the window.

He walks me across the room, guiding me toward the couch, his cock still thick, still glistening, still so fucking hard.

I swallow hard, staring at him.

I know that look in his eyes. I saw it on the first night we were together.

He sits down in the middle of the sofa, legs spread wide, his hand slowly stroking himself.

Watching me.

"Kneel, baby." His voice is deep. Commanding.

Heat rushes through me.

I obey.

Slowly, I lower myself between his legs, my pulse hammering in my throat, my thighs still shaking from the way he just ruined me.

I bite my lip, watching his hand stroke up and down his length, his cock thick and glistening, veins pulsing along his shaft.

"Taste yourself on me. Let’s see how you do with that mouth you were so eager to use earlier.”

Need pulses through me.

I swallow hard.

Jackson watches me, eyes blazing, hungry.

I lean forward, hesitant, but aching to obey.

I let my lips brush the tip of his cock, tasting myself on him, warm and slick and sinful, mixed with his precum.

He groans, low and guttural.

“Mmm. Good girl."

His fingers weave into my hair, tugging just enough to send a thrill down my spine.

“Can you take me deeper?”

I nod, parting my lips, taking him further into my throat, sucking softly.

"Fuck, yes, Ivy." His grip in my hair tightens. "So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth."

I moan, the sound vibrating around him, and he shudders.

I take him deeper, letting my tongue swirl over his length, hollowing my cheeks, watching his face.

His jaw clenches, his abs tighten.

He groans, head tipping back, his control unraveling.

Then, suddenly, he takes over.

His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me, fucking my mouth slowly at first, then deeper. Harder.

His breath comes rough and uneven.

His thighs tense beneath my hands.

"Just like that, baby. Fuck—just like that. Eyes up here. On me.”

My eyes water, but I don’t stop.

I can’t.

I love watching him fall apart like this.

I love the way his muscles strain, the way his cock twitches on my tongue.

I love knowing I have this power over him.

He guides me off of him suddenly, a growl ripping from his throat.

His eyes are wild, blazing, and utterly feral.

"Get up here."

I do as he says, climbing onto his lap.

His hands go straight to my tits, squeezing, palming, rolling my nipples between his fingers with a careful roughness.

He lets out a low, dirty chuckle.

"These are gonna swell so fucking much the longer you’re carrying my baby, aren’t they?"

My breath hitches.

His fingers tease over my nipples again.

"Gonna look so fucking good bouncing while I fuck you, Ivy."

I moan, pressing myself against him.

His cock nudges against me, still so fucking hard.

"Think you can take me again?"

I nod, whimpering.

He grins, dark and devilish.

“Then ride me, baby.”

His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing my swollen lips, teasing, claiming. His other hand grips my waist, steadying me, owning me.

After kissing me, he whispers against my mouth. “Now turn around and watch yourself in the window reflection. I want you to see how fucking sexy you look when you do.”

A thrill shoots down my spine.

I turn, facing the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, my breath catching at the sight of the city stretched out before us. But it’s not the skyline that holds my gaze.

It’s us.

Jackson is sprawled out on the couch, looking like a fucking king, cock thick and waiting for me.

And me? I’m bare, flushed, panting, every curve of my body glowing in the dim light.

His hands slide down my waist, gripping my hips, his fingers curling possessively into my skin.

“See how gorgeous you are?”

I shiver.

I lower myself slowly, sinking down onto him, inch by inch, my breath shattering as he stretches me open again, filling me to the brim, pushing deep, deep, deeper.

Jackson groans, his head tipping back against the couch.

“Jesus, baby. Look at you.”

I whimper, my thighs shaking, pulsing, burning.

His grip tightens.

“You see how fucking perfect you look like this? Taking me so deep? Taking me so well? Like my princess. Oh…yes.”

I nod, my lips parting in a silent moan.

“Say it. Tell me how hot you look.”

I swallow hard, my pulse slamming. “I—oh my god—I look so fucking hot.”

His low laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Damn right you do. That’s my girl. Now ride me.”

I move.

At first, it’s slow and teasing, rolling my hips in lazy circles, savoring the way he fills me, the way his cock presses against every aching, desperate place inside me.

Jackson’s hands grip my ass, spreading me, guiding me.

“Just like that, baby. Fucking hell.”

I watch the way my body moves against him in the reflection, the way his muscles tense, the way he grips me like he’s about to lose his fucking mind.

“Faster, baby. Fuck yourself on me.”

I obey, bouncing, grinding, taking him harder, deeper, chasing that perfect friction, that wild, toe-curling pleasure.

Jackson groans, deep and rough.

“That’s it. Fucking take it. Ride me like you mean it.”

I ride up and down on him, my breath ragged.

His hands slide up, gripping my tits, squeezing, tweaking, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

I gasp.

His hands slide down, grasping my hips, forcing me to take him even deeper.

“Just like that.”

A shockwave of pleasure bolts through me.

“Jackson—oh, fuck?—”

His thumb drags down to my clit, pressing, circling, stroking, working me into a frenzy.

“Come for me, baby. Come while I’m buried inside you.”

I scream his name, body shaking, pulsing, clenching around him.

Jackson snarls, grabbing me and flipping me onto my back in a heartbeat.

He pins me down, his eyes wild, blazing, possessive.

“You think we’re done?” he growls.

His cock slides back inside me, stretching me wide again, deeper this time, harder.

“I’m gonna make you come again, Ivy. Over and over. Until you forget your own fucking name. Like I said.”

I gasp, already so fucking wrecked, but Jackson isn’t done. Not even close.

He drives into me, deep and hard, his pace relentless, his cock slamming into me with precision, hitting that spot over and over until I’m seeing stars.

I thrash, completely at his mercy, my legs trembling, my body overloaded with sensation.

Jackson’s hands are everywhere— gripping my hips, pinning my wrists above my head, sliding down my throat, owning me.

“Fucking perfect, baby. So fucking perfect. You were made to be fucked like this. By me.”

I moan, writhing, arching, desperate.

“You like that, Ivy? You like me fucking you like I own this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, fuck—yes, Jackson!”

His low growl rumbles against my skin.

His pace quickens, his thrusts sharper, deeper, his body taking me apart, tearing me open, filling me.

“Good girl. You take me so fucking well. Squeezing my cock like you never want me to stop.”

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I can only feel.

My orgasm is building again, rising fast, spiraling out of control.

Jackson knows it. He can feel it.

His fingers slide down between us, finding my clit, stroking it, working it, pushing me toward the edge.

“Come for me again, baby. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you lose it.”

I scream, my body snapping, the pleasure exploding, flooding through me, consuming me whole.

Jackson groans, pulling out of me suddenly, grabbing me by the waist, and flipping me over onto my stomach.

His hand slides into my hair, tugging my head back.

“On your hands and knees, baby.”

I obey instantly, my body still trembling, still dripping wet, still desperate for more.

Jackson positions himself behind me, one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding over my ass.

“Goddamn, Ivy. Look at you. Bent over for me like my perfect little slut.”

I whimper, my pulse hammering, my core clenching at his filthy words.

His cock drags through my soaked folds, teasing, torturing.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

I push back against him, begging without words.

But he doesn’t move.

He just grips my hips harder, tighter.

“Use your words, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my face burning.

I’ve never begged for a man in my life.

But I’ve also never needed one this badly.

“Jackson, please, fuck me.”

His growl is pure sin.

I cry out, back arching, body stretching around him as he buries himself deep inside.

“Fuuuck,” he groans. He grips my hips, holding me still, letting me feel every thick, hard inch of him inside me.

“So fucking tight. So goddamn wet. You feel even better than I remember.”

I pant, my fingers digging into the couch.

He pulls back slowly, almost all the way out?—

Then slams back in.

I scream.

Jackson curses, his hands sliding up my back, gripping my shoulders, holding me in place as he fucks me harder, faster, taking what’s his.

“You love this, don’t you? Being fucked like this. Like you’re mine.”

I nod frantically, unable to form words, completely at his mercy.

“Say it, Ivy. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Jackson!”

His groan is pure possession.

His thrusts turn brutal, desperate, wrecking me completely.

I feel another orgasm building, hotter, tighter, dangerous.

Jackson feels it too.

His hand slips around to my front, fingers finding my swollen, aching clit.

He circles it slowly, teasing me, torturing me, pushing me to the brink.

“One more, baby. Give me one more.”

I cry out, my body shaking, breaking, coming completely undone.

Jackson snarls, his pace slamming, his grip tightening.

Then, with a hoarse groan, he thrusts deep one last time, spilling inside me, his body shaking against mine, claiming me in every way possible.

We collapse together, a tangled, sweaty, breathless mess.

Jackson wraps an arm around me, pulling me close, his lips brushing my temple.

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby.”

I smile lazily, still high from the best sex of my life.

Jackson chuckles, kissing my shoulder.

“You okay?”

I nod, my heart still racing.

“More than okay.”

He grins, rolling onto his side, pulling me flush against his chest.

“Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”