A small smile curls on Ivy’s lips, sad and stoic yet utterly beautiful. She stirs something in me. Something dark and predatory and not at all bound by the rules of man.
In just an hour, I’ll own her. Body and soul. How she feels about that, I cannot say. Nor do I care.
“I told you not to cover your freckles.”
She brings her hands up to her face. “I…I?—”
I turn to one of the women tending to her. “Uncover her freckles—now!”
“But sir, there isn’t time for that.”
“Does it look like I fucking care?”
The woman rushes to her makeup kit to undo the damage she’s done.
“You’re not to conceal them again,” I tell her.
“Understood.”
Good girl…
“Everyone but Ivy—out!”
Her mother hesitates, but retreats before I bark at her.
Once the door closes, I turn to my bride and lift her long dress, bunching it in my hands as I draw forward.
She cowers, but is unable to back away because she’s on a stool and would likely fall.
“I had this dress custom made to your measurements in three days. Do you have any idea what that cost me?”
She shakes her head no.
“Enough for me to request a downpayment.” I sink to my knees, pulling her dress above her waist. “Hold this for me.”
Her hands shake as she fumbles with the fabric, but she obeys.
I press my eyes closed to savor the anticipation. Rarely am I ever this fucking eager for anyone, but Ivy is not like the women I typically go for, because I care nothing for sweetness. In fact, I loathe it in every form.
Except when it comes to Ivy. On her, it’s decadent.
I open my eyes, allowing myself to glimpse her in her white lace panties. I picked them out myself, ensuring that while they’d cover everything, they’d hide nothing from my hungry gaze.
I hook my finger through the side and pull the garment away from her sex so that I might see what I so crave.
Soft, sweet, bare. Deliciously elegant.
“Why have you never taken a lover before?” When she hesitates, I continued with, “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Because I was saving myself.”
“For a rich husband?”
“Yes.”
Smart girl.
“Have you done anything?”
