She arched her back, offering him more. "Winn..." she moaned, breathless, her nails scraping down his shoulders.
He lifted his head, eyes locking with hers. "I’m going to save your ass," he said, "for our wedding night."
Ivy’s lips curved into a lazy, wicked smile. "You can have all of me anytime you want, babe," she murmured, tracing a finger along his jaw. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢•𝓷𝓮𝓽
Winn groaned at that. He dropped his head again, capturing both her breasts in his large hands, pressing them together before sucking on both nipples at once. The sensation made her cry out, her hips jerking off the bed, her fingers clutching his hair. He laughed against her, the sound vibrating through her chest, and then he doubled down — alternating between soft kisses and hard sucks until she was shaking, gasping for air.
When he finally lifted his head, her body was flushed, her skin glistening. Then, wordlessly, he pushed up to unbuckle his pants.
The metallic click of the belt echoed through the room. Ivy watched as he stripped down, muscles shifting under his skin, his desire obvious and urgent. He reached for her, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear, and slid it off her legs.
Winn hovered over her for a moment, his hand tracing the inside of her thigh. "Look at me," he murmured.
She did — and in that single heartbeat, everything felt still. The tension, the love, the fire between them all condensed into that gaze. Then he pressed forward, guiding himself into her heat.
The moment he entered her, Ivy cried out from the shock of pleasure that flooded her nerves. He filled her completely, his body fitting hers, every inch of him claiming her in a way that made her heart stutter.
Her toes curled as the first wave of orgasm hit her, fast and fierce, before he’d even begun to move. Her nails raked down his back, her lips parting on a moan that echoed softly against his ear. Winn chuckled, his breath hot against her neck.
"I haven’t even started yet," he whispered.
He drew back, almost all the way out, then thrust back in — deep, hard, and slow enough to make her shiver. Her body clung to him, greedy for more, every nerve alive with sensation. The rhythm built gradually, his hips moving in a steady tempo that left her gasping, his mouth trailing kisses along her throat, her jaw, her lips.
Ivy reached up, cupping his face, whispering his name between moans. Winn answered with his body — steady, claiming, relentless. When she came again, trembling beneath him, he caught her mouth in his, swallowing her cries as if they belonged to him too.
And when it was over, when they lay tangled together in the heat of the aftermath, he brushed his thumb over her lower lip and murmured against her ear, "You drive me insane, Ivy Morales."
She smiled lazily, eyes half-closed. "I cant believe we are going to be married in three days."
He collapsed next to her, pulling her into his arms. "I look forward to it."
"You think we are going to have any surprises before then?" she asked.
Winn thought about what she said before she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He really needed to get ahead of this. Today was Kevin, it may be someone else tomorrow.
Winn had had a brutal morning, even by his standards. He’d woken up before dawn, staring at the ceiling beside Ivy’s sleeping form, debating whether to handle the situation the way his instincts demanded. He truly wanted her to live a happy life with him. Blackmails and threats weren’t part of the life he envisioned.
He spent the early hours on the phone, talking Commissioned’s mob-tied owner down from a potential bloodbath. It took every ounce of charm and calculated menace he had to keep Kevin alive.
By nine, he was back in full business mode. He was thinking about damage control.
When the investors arrived, Lydia greeted them at the lobby. "Gentlemen, welcome," she purred, flashing them a practiced smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She led them to the conference room. Joey was already there.
When Winn walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Power had a way of following him; even the hum of conversation quieted as he strode to the head of the table. He shook hands briefly.
Bernard was the first to speak, his thick Dutch accent evident. "Mr. Kane," he said, brow furrowing, "is everything alright? You look... troubled."
"I hope it will be," he replied evenly. Then, without flourish, he dropped a brown envelope onto the table.
The men exchanged confused glances. "What is this?" Simon asked, reaching for it. He slid out the contents, and the moment the first photograph came into view, his brows shot up. "My God," he muttered, flipping to the next one.
"Those," Winn said, "are blackmail photos sent to my fiancée."
Joey’s jaw locked. He could feel a headache forming as he leaned back in his chair, eyes on Winn like what the hell are you doing, man? He wanted to kick him under the table. Winn, however, didn’t so much as blink. He remained standing, hands braced on the back of a chair, shoulders tense beneath his suit.
"Mr. Kane," Bernard began carefully, "I do not see how this concerns us. Surely you could handle such... personal matters privately?"
"I understand that your partnership with me depends on me getting married," Winn began. He stood tall. "I chose my secretary, and her part-time job was dancing on a pole. All so she could pay off her father’s gambling debts. All so she could take care of her mother."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Bernard cleared his throat. "Did you know about this?" he asked finally.
"From the very first week she began working here," Winn said. "I knew." He crossed his arms.
Shaw exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair. "So why," he said slowly, "are you showing us this?"
Winn’s gaze dropped briefly to the envelope on the table. He lifted his head again, his jaw tight. "Because," he said, "I will marry her. I want to marry her."