Temptation Ivy Smoak Mga Nobela at Kwento

"And you! Don't contaminate this young man's mind with your stupid ideas." "Tch! Doofus," The raven haired guy snickered and moved his eyes to look at me, "Hi there Henry I'm Blaze, I can be your friend, but if you want more I can be the fire that will help warm you in the cold night." He said with a silvery voice, and my brother unknowingly clasped his arms around my shoulders. “Hey, stop that! This is my brother, you jerk!" Grey yelled at the man, and Blaze's mouth curved into a sly smile.

“I don’t want anyone else looking at you and feeling the way I do right now.” “Yes? And how’s that?” “Hungry, out of control, the want is making my body burn. I can’t think.” “Oh.” “Yes.” Cass slid her hand higher, moved the flimsy piece of material covering her wetness aside, and slipped her finger into the wet heat. “Come onto my lap.” “I’ll make your tux dirty.” Olivia gasped as the finger inside her became two. “You do look so damned good in that tux.” “Fuck the tux, Liv.”

” She asked Dora. ”Dude, she didn't want to humiliate you. I guess but I surmise she thought the game was going to fall on both her and Alex as a partner. Then maybe If her plan did work out she already had a camera to video both of them smooching each other.” Dora finally said.

“Ivy—” I looked up at him.Reached for his belt.Unbuckled it slow.Unzipped.Pulled him free.He was hard thick, leaking. I moaned at the sight.Leaned in. Licked the tip slow. He groaned deep. “Fuck ” I took him in slow, deep. He fisted my hair. “Good girl—” I sucked hard, tongue swirling.He thrust shallow.Moans spilled from him rough. “Ivy...your mouth—” I took him deeper.

“Damian’s distracted. The board’s terrified. By tonight’s gala, they’ll be begging for stability. And I’ll be the only one offering it.” Sarah adjusted her skirt, smirked. “And when Victoria tries to spin the ‘happy family’ angle?” Theo’s smile was cruel. “She’ll fail. Because I have the original Vegas hotel security footage. The full tape. No blur. And I know exactly who’s been sending the black roses for years.” Sarah’s eyes widened. “You?” “Me.” Theo stepped into the hallway. “I’ve been playing the long game since the day he chose that one-night stand over me for COO. Tonight, I end it.”

Her scent was sweeter, something new, and addictive. “Tell me what you want, pup. I'll give it to you,” I promised. Ivy took in a shaky breath, holding my gaze for a minute before her shaky hands finally came inside her shirt, lifting it up to expose one of her breasts. I pressed on the pink and hardened nipple in amusement before looking at her. “Want your lips on me…. everywhere… my wolf…my whole body is craving…I need—” “Me too.” I cut her off. “I want it too. Fuck, I wanted to touch you so bad…”

That she had not left their penthouse with trembling legs and no panties beneath her dress. But then her phone would buzz, and the spell would break all over again. Private Number Come up tonight. He wants to watch you crawl. And she would go. Every time. Without resistance. The days blurred into a cycle of temptation and surrender. Ivy’s body became something else entirely. A vessel of need. A tool for their pleasure. And yet she never felt used. No, it was worse. She felt wanted. Cherished. Owned. That was the most dangerous part.

She stares out of the window, watching the streets grow nicer, taller, shinier as they climb. “So he’s heard of me,” she says, trying for casual. “Babe,” Sofia says, “he probably knows your national insurance number.” The lift opens straight into the penthouse. Glass is the first thing Layla notices—walls of it, wrapping around a living room that overlooks the city like it’s something to be surveyed rather than lived in. It smells faintly of expensive perfume and something darker underneath: leather, wood polish, a hint of smoke.

There’s still a ketchup stain on the sleeve from the burger I stress-ate during the flight, and my hair’s doing that weird frizz-helmet thing. “I can’t pull this off,” I whisper. This woman—Victoria—she’s the opposite of me. But isn’t that the point? Ivy Smith is dead. Buried with her monogrammed towels and devotion to a man who didn’t blink twice before betraying her. I shake my head, my heart heavy, then glance back at the window—only to see Harry’s smug face grinning from a pop-up ad in Times Square. “Oh for fu—” I slam the papers down, not finishing the sentence, and storm off.

“Then don’t. Say nothing. Ignore it. You’re not lying if you just… exist.” I leaned into him instinctively. The smell of cedar and smoke and him hit me like a wave. My chest pressed against his. My lips brushed his shoulder. My fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt. Ivy Monroe Hart. Married. Trembling. Terrified. And still… somehow, exactly where she wanted to be. But the phone buzzed again. I flinched. Not the world. Not yet.