The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) by Sierra Simone Read Free Book Online

said it warmly, and she laughed.
    “I simply haven’t met a man who can handle me yet, my dear. But when I do, then I’ll submit to the yoke immediately.”

In my mind, I was biting Ivy’s neck hard enough to make her cry out.
    While I’d waited for Gareth to fetch my bluebells for the day, I’d constructed several perfect ways to punish my wildcat for running away. As I absent-mindedly squeezed and stroked myself through the fabric of my pants, I dreamed all these ways up like houses and lived in them fully, resisting the urge to pull out my dick and truly bring myself relief. I didn’t want it this way. I only wanted her.
    I dreamed of things I would almost certainly do—tying her up, fucking her in the ass, wrapping one hand around that smooth column of a throat—and things I would never do. It was those things that had me desperate at the moment, the thoughts of things I had done with other women but that I would never be able to do with Ivy—not because they were anything but arousing to me or because I didn’t think she would enjoy it, but because I was so fiercely possessive of her that sharing every part of her, cunt included, would drive me to a jealousy so vicious that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
    But I lost myself in them now, picturing Ivy bent over a table and then tied that way, her legs spread and her sex exposed to anyone who wanted to see. I would let men I trusted—Silas, the Baron, Gideon—finally sample all of her. I’d watch them come inside her, I’d watch them take turns, I’d watch her face as the Baron thrust into her without a shred of mercy, and then I’d watch as she came apart with pleasure at the onslaught.
    Fuck. Just the thought of using that many cocks to punish her was enough to make me nearly lose it in my pants, like a boy in school.
    I took a deep breath and steered myself away from thoughts of my wildcat. Or at least thoughts of her naked. I was about to visit her, and when I did, I intended to honor my unspoken promise to court her properly, to win her back with the part of myself that wasn’t all darkness, if such a part existed. I would prove my devotion to Ivy by being the kind of man she didn’t think I could be. An honest one. A loving one.
    But once I had her back, she’d better be prepared.

    As I rode in the cab to her residence, I wondered if Ivy’s aunt would like me. Approve of me. Part of me didn’t care in the least, but the rational side of me knew that demonstrating the strength of my love for her would involve winning over her family as well. Her family of one.
    As it turned out, she was the one waiting for me in the parlor when I arrived at her house that afternoon, and my stomach clenched upon entering, because for a moment, I thought I was looking at Violet. The same blue eyes, the same fair hair. The same fine features straight from a painting. But then she smiled, and I relaxed. Esther was no doppelgänger. Shorter and curvier, with a face much more disposed to happiness.
    “Mr. Markham,” she greeted, not making to stand. “Ivy will be down shortly. She went to lie down after her meal.”
    “Is she feeling well?”
    Esther met my gaze with a frank expression. She may be a socialite, but she wasn’t a simpleton. “I think we both know the answer to that. Now, I assume those are for me?”
    I offered her the bouquet of white roses that—yes—I had brought as a bribe for her regard.
    “Thank you.” She examined them for a few seconds then dropped them on the couch next to her. “Now, have a seat, will you?”
    I sat, leaning back and crossing my legs so that my ankle rested on my knee. I wasn’t nervous, but I was anxious. I wanted to see Ivy. I wanted to touch her. Every moment since I’d left the ball last night had felt like an hour, an eternity. All I wanted was to be home, with her in my bed and with the world far away.
    “Did you murder my niece?”
    The question was abrupt, but in a way, not unexpected. I knew what