Chapter 5
Theatre Royal Drury Lane
Ivy's mind was reeling. What had just happened? How did Adam Cleaver of all people manage to make her feel like...That?
Her cheeks were bright red, her bosom heaving as she panicked internally to herself. Whatever he had just done to her, no matter how he had just made her feel, she still very much loathed Adam Cleaver.
"See," Adam grinned, raising an eyebrow while tucking a tendril of hair that had fallen over Ivy's face back behind her ear before leaning into it. "I told you I would make you enjoy it."
She stared out in front of her, defeated and speechless, and somewhat embarrassed; even though no one but the two of them knew what had just occurred, she loathed knowing that he had had such a hold over her in that moment, and worst of all she had allowed him touch her, to put his mouth on her like that, her Mother and Father would die of shame if they knew! Ivy was brought swiftly back to reality as Adam stood up soon after, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt before holding out his hand to her. "Come, let us go and get a drink."
Back down at the Foyer their parents were waiting, faces alight with pride as their children descended the staircase arm in arm. Peter nodded his head in approval at his daughter, who appeared to have taken in their conversation earlier and seemed to be in a better mood than before; or at least was pretending to be, which was good enough for him.
Ivy fought with herself to hide her discomfort, smiling politely back between Lady Cleaver and her Mother, who seemed to talk about her as if she were not there; nattering away about what shade of white she should wear on their wedding day, or perhaps ivory to more compliment her complexion! She wanted to disappear, to hide away back in her room with Heidi, and pretend that her entire life wasn't being planned out for her; to marry a man she couldn't stand, and there was not a thing she could do.
Ivy was also very much aware that her Father had his eye on her and was expecting her to be on her best behaviour; pleasing and gentile, a proper lady for this proper gentleman. Heaven help her if she threw one of her tantrums now!
"Much better," Lord Pryor said, lowering his head to her ear; his voice so low only she could hear it. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and gently pushed her back toward the man he had promised her to before walking away. Adam seemed glad to have her back by his side, placing a possessive hand on the small of her back as he drew her a little closer to him.
"Where did Bellamy get to?" Adam muttered, scanning the room, his arm still settled on Ivy's back, "I want to show off my Fiancé." She cringed, leaning her body away from him a little which he quickly noticed, coaxing her back with a firm hand which now gripped her waist.
"I am not your Fiancé," she spat back as her eyes met her Father's from across the foyer, pleading with him, but she was instantly dismissed with a steely glare and a turned cheek. Adam looked down at her after stopping a server to relieve her gold tray of two flutes filled with bubbling champagne, handing one to Ivy.
"Yes you are, and soon you will be my wife. If I have my way it will be before the season is over." Her whole body tensed up as he leaned down, she felt his breath tickling her neck which sent an unwelcome shudder down her spine, and even further down between her legs. "And darling, I always get my way."
"Before the season is over?" She repeated, not trying all too hard to conceal the terror in her voice, "But the season ends next month!"
"Indeed," he replied, rather non chalantly, still searching the packed foyer for his friend.
"I am an impatient man, Miss Pryor, and I insisted as part of my deal with your Father that we are to be married as soon as possible." She looked out towards her Father once again who was laughing along with Lord and Lady Cleaver, sipping on champagne, acting as if he was genuinely enjoying himself, at the Ballet of all places. How could he betray her this way? Her own Father!
Adam finally stopped searching for Edward and held out his arm to Ivy instead as the lights of the foyer then dimmed, indicating that the interval was almost over and people were to return to their seats for the final part of the ballet. "No matter, I'll find him later. Come on, I for one cannot wait for the second half, I think have a new found enjoyment for the Ballet."
He winked at her and clicked his fingers at a passing server as they ascended the stairs, who was coming down to refill his empty tray. "Boy! Fetch a bottle of brandy and bring it up to the box, we're in need of something a little stronger!" The boy nodded as he rushed down the stairs to follow his orders.
Back in the darkness of their very private section of the Cleaver's family box, Adam led Ivy by the hand to sit back down on the couch, patting the boy sharply on the back who had returned in a lightening flash with a large decanter of brandy with the King's royal crest engraved into it, and two short glasses. Ivy watched as he poured out two stiff drinks at the small table beside the couch, swallowing his in one gulp and refilling his glass before walking around to hand her one, sitting down next to her.
The low chatter of the theatre soon turned into silence as the lights went out; the bright white spotlight shining back on the stage, and the orchestra started up again.
"When will you stop lying to yourself?" Adam muttered quietly, putting his glass down before shuffling over a little so their thighs were pressed up against one another's. He took a thick curl that hung against her breast, playing with it between his fingers as his other hand caressed her waist, reaching over a little to whisper into her ear. "You were purring like a kitten when I had my mouth on you earlier. You were so, so, wet for me." He lowered his head to the back of her neck, planting soft kisses down the nape; trailing his lips along the back of her shoulder; feeling her body suddenly tense in his arms.
"Stop it," she breathed nervously as Adam pushed the glass she was still clutching up to her lips with his free hand. She cleared her throat and shook her head, tilting it away from the glass. "No, thank you," she said. He pushed it back towards her face, more insistently this time.
"Drink it," he demanded, "it will relax you." She stared at him for a moment, his eyes black in the darkness, except for a lustful glint that flickered back disarmingly at her. She raised the glass and placed it to her lips timidly, her nose crinkling at the acrid aroma coming from it. Grimacing as the strong, sweet liquid seeped down her throat, Adam tipped the glass up from the bottom so she would finish every drop; her skin becoming flushed as the brandy made its way through her bloodstream. "There's a good girl." He took the empty glass from her hands and set it down on the floor by their feet, turning her by the shoulders to face him. She felt warm inside, her mind becoming a little foggy.
"You are going to make a very nice little wife," he said, taking in her features as a faint glow of light flooded the theatre from the stage so he could see her better for a moment; her eyes like burning liquid gold under full black lashes, her deep pink lips with the most delectable Cupid's bow; the deep brown of her long, thick hair that had just a tint of bronze, and the same faint fragrance of peaches as if it emanated from her very pores. He swept his thumb across her bottom lip, dragging it down a little. "Our children shall be the finest looking in all of England for sure."
The other hand found its way down to her décolletage, taking the thin diamond chain that laid across it in his hand, watching as it sparkled against her skin in the dimly lit corner of the room, her chest rising and falling heavily.
"Children?" She stuttered, her heart thumping within her chest. He kissed her jaw, spreading his fingers across her neck as he moved his way up to nibble on her earlobe.
"Mmm hmm," he mumbled, his teeth biting down a little harder on her ear as she whimpered softly, his hand finding its way to the nape of her neck, stroking the smooth skin he found there. "At least four or five, my Father says it's always wise to have spares." Her blood ran cold. Spares? She thought. Is that all his children would be to him?
Adam pressed his lips to hers chastely, teasing them apart to make way for his tongue. He was surprisingly gentle, tender even. Pulling her body to him so they were crushed together; his other hand wandered over her body slowly until he landed back upon her slender neck, his fingers delicately wrapping around it. Ivy did everything she could to stop herself from shaking, the feeling between her legs becoming more prominent as she willed it away, squeezing her thighs tightly together, which if anything made it worse.
God, how he wanted to fuck her! But he would be a gentleman, and would wait until they were wed as he had promised his Mother, which if all went to plan would be very, very soon. Adam could play with his new toy for now, but he had made a promise to Lady Cleaver that he would not defile his young bride to be before they were married, before it was proper.
Obviously she hadn't a clue about their very first meeting that previous year, but as far as he was concerned, Ivy was as much a virgin as any other bride; for he was the only man to ever have touched her, and he would now ensure it remained that way.
Her lips felt warm and plump; melting into his as her skin blushed under his roaming hands. He pushed her away from him a little by her shoulders, looking hungrily into her large, golden eyes before they were once again shrouded in darkness, the spotlight now fainter as it shone only at the dancers who floated across the stage. He yearned to fully claim her, to be deep inside her, and put a son in her as soon as possible.
"Your scent maddens me," he growled, "I don't know how I am going to stop myself from ravishing you fully before our wedding night." Adam drew her back to him into a rough kiss, his tongue playing with hers as a gentle moan escaped her throat, incensing him as his arms tightened around her, crushing her small breasts against his chest.
Ivy could barely breathe, the brandy had very much gone to her head. She felt dizzy, and hot, Adam's arms still wrapped tightly around her as he kissed her deeply. She felt the warmth between her legs growing, her body betraying her yet again as she struggled against him a little, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.
"Why must you always resist me?" He scolded, gripping her hips to keep her still. "Your body burns for me, begs for me, and you know it. Why If I reached under your skirts right now, would you be wet down there?" Ivy's eyes widened as she vigorously shook her head, knowing she wasn't being entirely truthful.
He narrowed his eyes at her, smirking smugly as he bent down, his hand sweeping across the carpeted floor to feel beneath her skirts.
"No? Well I think I should see for myself." She struggled as he kept her seated with an arm across her stomach, holding her there as he spread her legs a little, his hand sliding up her calf; caressing it as he moved up to massage the warm silky flesh of her thigh, goosebumps forming under his fingertips. Ivy's pulse quickened, her vision becoming a little blurred as she felt the glow of the brandy swishing around in her belly, Adam's hand dangerously close to her soft centre.
