TROUBLE (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 9) (3 page)

She drank a little more of the burning,
cringe-inducing scotch as she tried to calm her frayed nerves.
 
“I called my mother and told her about
you,” she said, trying to change the subject.

Cullen raised an eyebrow.
 
“Did you?
 
I imagine she was pleased as punch.”

“Not quite,” Ivy admitted.

“She doesn’t have anything to worry
about,” Cullen muttered.
 
He leaned
over and poured himself an even larger portion of alcohol.

“Why’s that?”

“This is all going to clear itself
up.”
 
 

“And what if it doesn’t?” Ivy said.

“Then I’ll be in jail someday soon.”

She shook her head.
 
“You’re pushing me away again,
Cullen.
 
It’s as if you’re afraid to
really trust me.
 
But I’m your wife.
 
You have to try and trust me.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m doing or what I
need to do,” he replied darkly.
 
His
eyes had grown even more frozen, more intense.
 
Now she could see anger breaking through
the blue expanse of his gaze.

“Message received,” she said
sarcastically.
 
“Just lay back and
do my duty.”

She laid her head back on the seat and closed
her eyes, thinking to herself that perhaps it was impossible for her or anyone
to truly ever reach Cullen Sharpe.
 

For a short time, it had seemed almost
easy.

There had been moments when the two of
them felt like one fused soul, so close that there was no separation at all.

But now, driving in his limousine, with
Cullen saying these angry comments and being so remote—it seemed to Ivy
that all of her feelings of closeness in the past were just wishful thinking.

***

They’d arrived back at his apartment and
not spoken much.
 
Cullen had
announced his intention to take a long, hot shower, and then disappeared.

Ivy sat down and tried to watch some
television, but found it hard to focus on anything.
 
She kept replaying moments from the day.

Remembering the moment when Cullen had
been placed in handcuffs and told that he was being arrested for negligent
homicide.

The feelings of powerlessness as she’d
sat hour after hour at the station, waiting to find out something, anything
about what was happening to him.

The shining happiness and relief she’d
felt when Cullen had been freed suddenly.

And then the feelings of anger that had
overcome her as Cullen had told her to mind her own business when she’d asked
him a few simple questions.

As Ivy relived the various moments of the
day, Cullen finally emerged downstairs in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt,
looking refreshed from his shower.

Every time she saw him, Ivy was still
struck by how ferociously gorgeous the man was.
 
His shock of dark hair was still damp
from the shower, the bangs hanging over his forehead.
 

Her gaze moved to his strong jaw, those
frighteningly blue eyes, and then she took in the tight, toned body that was
tantalizingly within reach as he came towards her.

“You look tired,” he said.

“I’m worn out,” she admitted.

“Do you want to go to sleep?”

She sat up straighter on the couch as a
laugh track echoed from the television set she’d hardly been watching.
 
“I don’t know,” she shrugged.
 
“Are you tired?”

He stared down at her coolly.
 
“You keep asking questions,” he said.

Her cheeks flushed.
 
“And you keep acting like a prick,” she
retorted.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed.
 
“Say it again.”

“You’re being a prick.”

“Get up.”

“No.”
 
She stared at him, folding her
arms.
 
“I’m not moving off this
couch until you speak respectfully to me.”

“So now you’re making demands.”

“If that’s what it takes to get a little
respect around here.”
 
She brushed a
strand of hair away from her face.
 
“I know you’ve had a stressful day, but that doesn’t give you the
right—“

“This is no longer acceptable,” Cullen
said.
 
“Get up or get out.”

She stared at him, aghast.
 
“You’re kicking me out?”

“You’re kicking yourself out.
 
Either stand up like I told you, or
leave.”
 
He glared at her.
 
“It’s your choice, Ivy.”

Slowly, she rose to her feet.
 
“I don’t understand why you’re treating
me like this.”
 
Her voice shook and
she felt tears threatening.
 
“I was
so worried about you, Cullen.
 
I
waited all day long—“

“I don’t care what you think about my
behavior,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
 
“I want you to pull your pants down and
grab your ankles.”

She looked down.
 
“You’re going to punish me?
 
After everything I’ve been through
today?”

“Enough whining.”

“Fuck you, Cullen.”
 
She met his gaze.
 
“Fuck you for treating me this way.”

His lips curled into a smile, as if this
was the reaction he was hoping for.
 
“Don’t tempt me.”

“You can’t treat me like this,” she
said.
 
“I’m your wife.”

“The rules haven’t changed,” he
said.
 
“You’re still under my
tutelage.”

“Tutelage?” she cried.
 
“Do you ever stop and listen to
yourself?”
 
Ivy shook her head.
 
 

“Nobody’s forcing you to be here with
me,” he told her.
 
That little smile
was still on his lips, as if taunting her.
 
“You yell and scream about what’s fair, but we both know that you don’t
want to leave.”

Ivy grit her teeth.
 
“You’re being horrible and impossible
and you’re hurting me because you’re scared, Cullen.”

He walked closer to her, and now she
could smell the scent of him, and her knees weakened.
 
His skin was flawless and smooth, and
she wanted to feel him against her so badly, she could hardly stand it.

“I think you and I both know who’s really
scared,” Cullen told her.
 
His minty
breath was hot on her face now.
 
His
eyes were boring into her as he enveloped her in his captivating presence.

“I’m not as scared as you are,” she
replied, feeling like a child.

I’m
rubber and you’re glue.

“Fine, you’re not scared,” he
smirked.
 
“You’re just…wet.”
 
His hands reached up and clasped her face,
almost gently—but still firmly.
 
“You’ve gotten much too big for your britches.
 
That’s my fault.”

Her lower lip quivered.

Ivy felt her stomach tense and her
nipples stiffen at his touch.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sir.
 
I didn’t think I was.”

“You should think less and obey more,” he
cautioned, as his hands slid down to her neck and pulled her towards him.

She felt a deluge of wetness between her
legs, soaking her panties.
 

He’s
right.
 
I am wet.
 
I’m all wet and I can’t help myself.

Cullen spoke into her mouth, his lips
brushing her lips.
 
“I know you just
want me to fuck you,” he said.
 
“That would make you feel reassured, wouldn’t it?”

She nodded, as her insides surged in
response to his promise.
 
Ivy wanted
his cock—wanted to see it, feel it, touch it.
 
She wanted him in her mouth, in between
her legs.

Now Cullen’s hands tightened slightly around
her neck.
 
“But if you want this,”
he continued, “then I need to know that you trust me fully.”
 
He kept his hands around her neck, as he
looked into her eyes to gauge her reaction.
 
 

She stared at him, wide eyed.
 
“Cullen,” she whispered.

“Take down your pants,” he replied,
squeezing her throat briefly and then releasing, still keeping his hands in
place.

Fumbling, Ivy slid her pants down her
hips and felt them drop to her ankles.

“Panties too,” Cullen said.

She slid her panties down next, and felt
cool air greeting her thighs and dripping mound.
 
“Yes, Sir,” she said.

Cullen’s cool blue eyes stared into hers
without reprieve.
 
“Now pull mine
down.”

As his hands gripped her neck, she felt
for his waistband.
 
It took her a
few seconds, and she brushed against his hard cock as she tried to find
it.
 
Finally, she was able to grip
his pants and boxers and slide them down.

Cullen stepped out of them, never
releasing her neck.
 
He began
walking her backwards, until her back pressed against the wall behind her.

“I’m going to fuck you just right,” he
said.
 
“But only if you trust me.”

“I trust you, Mister Sharpe.”

And more then that, she wanted him.
 
She wanted so badly to be fucked—to
feel closeness again.

To feel reassured that this was still
real.

Cullen leaned in and kissed her mouth
fully, and she tasted his tongue, the minty mouthwash he used, but also the
deeper taste that was all him.

His tongue stroked her tongue, his lips
heating her lips with his warmth.

As he kissed her, she felt the head of
his cock pushing against her folds, her mound immediately moistening.

Ivy moaned, and Cullen’s hands held her
throat.
 
It almost felt like he was
protecting her.
 

But then she felt a pang of fear.

What was this?
 
Did normal husbands hold their wives
necks during sex?

Is
he dangerous?
 
Is this what everyone
warned me about?

Her heart started to race and she pulled
her head away, struggling against him.
 
“No,” she said.
 
“No.”

Cullen released immediately took his
hands off her.

“I’m…I’m not sure if I can do this,” she
said.
 
“That scares me.”

“Because you don’t trust me,” he
replied.
 
“And that’s a problem.”

“I do trust you,” she said, but didn’t
sound or feel very confident.
 
“Do we
have to do…that?”

“No more negotiating,” he said.
 
His nostrils flared.
 
“Kneel down and take me into your mouth
immediately.”

Flustered, Ivy got down on her knees, the
hardwood pressing against her bone as she came in line with Cullen’s swollen,
fully erect member.
 
It was fully
engorged and hard as rock.

Cullen grabbed her by the back of her
head and pushed his cock against her lips.
 
Ivy opened her mouth and allowed him to slide all the way into her
mouth, which he did without hesitation.

She was deep-throating his cock now, and
the suddenness of it was like a shock—like being thrown into the deep end
of the pool without warning.

His hard cock was touching the back of
her throat, nearly gagging her, as Cullen continued to grab the back of her
head while his hips thrust towards her face.

“You do what I say.
 
I control you.
 
And it makes you wet, doesn’t it?” he
growled.

It was true that she was wet.
 
Her pussy ached, and she couldn’t help
but be turned on, even as she was overcome by the helplessness she felt.
 
Cullen was taking her, doing with her as
he pleased.

In one sense, she was terrified, but in
another—Ivy had to admit she liked it.

She was turned on.

But
why?
 
Why do I like this?
 
Why can’t we just be normal?

The thought flew out of her mind as she
sucked Cullen off, starting to enjoy the taste of his cock and forget about her
own anxieties.