Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clove
Ender’s arm was draped over my waist, solid and warm, pulling me against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His chest rose and fell behind me, steady and deep. His breath brushed the back of my neck with every exhale.
I lay there, still as stone, just listening to him breathe.
It hit me then, really hit me, that I was lying in Ender’s arms.
I shifted just enough to turn onto my side, careful not to wake him, and my gaze landed on the compass tattoo spread across his chest. Black ink against warm skin, the lines clean and sharp, the points stretching toward his shoulders.
I traced one finger along the edge of it, barely touching.
North. South. East. West.
“I can hear you thinking again,” Ender grumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
I laughed softly, my finger freezing in place. “I’m actually not really thinking.”
His eyes cracked open, one at a time, hazel and sleepy and still somehow focused on me. “Yeah?”
“I was memorizing your tattoo.”
He snorted and shifted closer, his arm tightening around me. “No need to memorize when you can see it whenever you want, baby.”
Heat curled low in my belly at the word baby. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the way he said it, like it wasn’t a nickname but a truth.
I traced the compass again, slower this time. “I like this.”
“Good,” he murmured. “It’s not going anywhere.”
I smiled. “Is it to remind you to always take the right course?”
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through me. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”
I lifted a brow. “That didn’t sound convincing.”
“At the time,” he admitted, “I just liked the way it looked.”
“Ender,” I laughed. “You’re crazy.”
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Unhurried. Familiar already. “Just for you.”
I rested my forehead against his. “I guess your compass led you straight to me.”
“That was cheesy,” he said immediately.
“So cheesy,” I agreed, even as my chest warmed at the thought. “But I kind of love it.”
He smiled at that, really smiled, and it did dangerous things to me.
We lay there for a while, tangled together, the morning light creeping across the room. I could hear the faint sounds of the clubhouse waking up—someone walking down the hall, a door opening, and muffled voices drifting up from the common area.
Reality knocking gently.
“What’s the plan today?” I asked quietly.
Ender shrugged, brushing his thumb along my hip. “Nothing planned.”
“Think you’ll hear anything from Brinks, Nickel, and Thorn?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
His jaw tightened just slightly. “Yeah.”
I pretended not to notice, even though I noticed everything now. “You look like you could use a distraction,” I said lightly.
He pulled me closer, and his lips brushed my temple. “Distract me how?”
I tilted my head back and smiled up at him. “I’ve got a couple ideas.”
His brow lifted. “Show me the first one.”
I wiggled my eyebrows.
He laughed quietly. “You’re trouble.”
“Only for you.”
I shifted closer, letting my hand slide over his chest, slow and deliberate. I felt his breath hitch beneath my palm, and that alone made my pulse jump. I leaned in, murmuring near his ear, “You trust me, right?”
Ender’s arm tightened around me. “Always.”
That was all the invitation I needed.
I slipped lower beneath the blanket, the world narrowing to warmth and shadow and the sound of his breath turning rough. The covers cocooned us, intimate and secret, and I took my time, slow enough to make him restless.
“Clove,” he warned softly, his voice already wrecked.
I smiled to myself, letting my hands wrap around his hard cock, and licked the tip. His fingers threaded into my hair, not pushing, just holding, like he was trying not to lose control.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Am I?” I murmured, letting the words ghost against him.
His hips shifted. “You’re going to ruin me.”
I glanced up from beneath the blanket, meeting his eyes. “That’s kind of the point.”
A low groan tore out of him, and his head tipped back against the pillow as I licked the hard shaft and then wrapped my lips around the tip.
“Don’t stop.”
I didn’t.
I sucked his cock into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat. A moan ripped from his lips, and I knew he was fully distracted. I bobbed up and down, enjoying the taste and feel of him in my mouth.
His hand slid into my hair, gentle but possessive.
“God,” he murmured. “Your mouth feels incredible.”
I shifted slightly beneath the blanket, and his breath stuttered.
“Clove,” he whispered, reverent now. “That’s it. Just like that.”
I sped up, my hand at the base of his cock, and my other stroking him.
His fingers tightened in my hair, not pulling, just holding. “You’re so damn good to me.”
That did things to me.
I glanced up again, catching his eyes, and the look on his face made my chest ache. Desire, yes, but something more. Appreciation. Want.
“Fuck,” he breathed when our eyes met. “You look beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”
I let out a quiet hum, intentionally slow, and he groaned, hips jerking before he could stop himself.
“Sorry,” he muttered, then laughed under his breath. “Not sorry. You’re driving me crazy.”
His praise kept coming, broken and honest. “You’re perfect. You know that?”
Another breath. Another curse.
“Only you could make me feel like this.”
His head tipped back again, throat working as he said my name like it was the only word he had left. I watched him come apart; every ounce of control he clung to finally slipping through his fingers.
This man, who liked to be steady, precise, unshakeable, had given everything to me.
His body shuddered as he filled my mouth with his cum and my hand continued to stroke him. I stayed with him through it, letting the tension drain from his frame one breath at a time.
When it was over, I surfaced, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my pulse still racing. His chest rose and fell hard, eyes half-lidded, lips parted like he was still trying to remember how to breathe.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered, a weak laugh slipping out. “Clove…”
I didn’t answer. I just crawled up his body, settling over him, fitting myself against him like I belonged there. His hands came up immediately, sliding over my back, holding me close.
I brushed my lips over his jaw, then hovered just above his mouth. “You with me?” I asked softly.
He smiled, lazy and wrecked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I tilted my head, studying him. “So,” I murmured. “Are you distracted?”
His hands tightened on my hips, his voice low and honest. “Completely. Ruined. And now it’s your turn.”
I grinned and kissed him, slow and satisfied, knowing I’d gotten exactly what I wanted.