30
RUPERT
Ivy tossed her head back, sitting n***d and upright beneath my sheets, and issued a peal of laughter which reminded me of church bells.
My sanctuary.
I’d tormented her further at the club, remembering the way those men had looked at her at the bar. As if they wanted her for dessert.
Too bad for them. She was mine to taste every night for the rest of my life.
“Please tell me you’re not serious,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
She was the only person who made fun of me and got away with it, because she understood my heart like no one else did. With Ivy around, I didn’t take myself so seriously.
“Property of Rupert Taylor,” I yanked the sheets aside and drew a straight line just above the glistening crease of her p***y, “Right here. I’ll have Doc ink it in whatever
