Chapter 10 Freddie
CHAPTER TEN
Freddie
I didn’t plan this.
Hell, I would never have planned this.
Not with her.
Not with Ivy Fletcher… my best friend’s sister.
But then she says, Maybe I don’t want to.
And everything in me goes still.
No air. No thought. Just her.
Standing in my hallway like a damn temptation wrapped in an old shirt that doesn’t belong to her, but clings to her curves like it does. Like it was always meant to.
There’s a beat, long and breathless, like the universe is warning me to back the hell off.
But I don’t.
Because she steps toward me.
One foot. Then the next.
Slow. Sure. Like she’s walking toward the edge of something dangerous and doing it anyway.
She’s walking toward me.
My pulse kicks up hard. My breath stutters. My chest tightens.
She stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel her heat. Close enough to smell the trace of something floral and feminine.
"Ivy," I say, voice low, tight. It’s her name but it’s also a warning. A question. A fucking prayer.
But she’s already there with her chin tilted up and her eyes wide, wide open.
Just that same raw, braver than she knows look she gave me earlier, like she’s handing me something fragile and hoping I won’t break it.
And I do the dumbest thing I’ve done in years.
I reach up and brush a piece of hair behind her ear.
My knuckles graze her cheek and her breath hitches.
But she doesn’t pull back.
She leans into it.
Into me.
And just like that, the tether snaps.
Every rule. Every reason. Every line I swore I wouldn’t cross… obliterated.
"This is probably a bad idea," she whispers, her mouth brushing my jaw now. I feel the shape of every syllable against my skin.
"Probably," I rasp, not moving. Not daring to.
"But I don’t care."
Fuck.
Then she kisses me.
With heat, hunger… recklessly.
It’s everything we’ve been trying to deny set loose all at once.
Her mouth crashes into mine, and I lose the thread of everything except the way she tastes.
Desire. Want. Trouble.
Her fingers twist in my shirt, yanking me down like she needs this, like we both do, and I let her.
Because there’s no holding back now.
She kisses like a storm. Wild and breathless and a little bit angry, and it lights me up from the inside out.
I back her into the wall, fast and hard, not even thinking. One hand braced beside her head, the other sliding under the hem of that worn shirt she’s stolen from me. Right now, all I know is her skin, hot and soft under my palm as I trace up her thigh, her breath catching in her throat.
But she doesn’t stop me.
She spreads her legs just enough.
Just enough to break me.
My fingers brush lace and my brain short circuits.
"You like this?" I growl, mouth close to her ear, my lips grazing the shell of it.
She shudders.
"Yes."
Her voice is breathy. Wrecked.
And I want to wreck her more.
She drags her nails up my stomach, dragging my shirt up with them. Her fingers are everywhere, burning a path over my skin, and I want her to mark me. Brand me.
"Say it again."
"I want it." Her voice is shredded, low and wrecked, head tilting back against the wall like she’s offering herself up. "I want you."
Something primal sparks in me.
I press my palm between her thighs and feel it. Hot, soaked through, throbbing with need.
"Ivy…"
She moans, deep and filthy, when I slip my fingers under her panties, and I swear, I feel it in my spine.
She’s drenched.
Dripping for me.
Her body arches, shameless, chasing every stroke like it’s a lifeline.
"Hands on the wall," I rasp, barely recognizing my own voice. It’s rough. Possessive. A little cruel.
She obeys instantly.
No hesitation. No sass. Just her palms flat against the wall, spine arched, legs spread.
Fuck.
I didn’t expect that.
Didn’t know how much I’d need that.
To see her like this.
Pinned.
Open.
Mine.
My fingers slide in and she gasps, hips jerking, thighs trembling. She’s tight, perfect, pulsing around me like her body was built to take this.
Her breath stutters. Then catches.
"You’re so fucking wet," I growl, curling my fingers just right, thumb brushing over that sweet little bundle of nerves that makes her legs quake. "Is this all for me?"
She nods, lips parted, panting.
But that’s not enough.
"I want to hear it."
"Yes," she gasps, back arching, voice high and cracking. "It’s for you. All of it."
Her hands press harder to the wall like she needs something solid, because I’m not being gentle anymore. I fuck her with my fingers, slow, deep strokes, circling her clit until she’s trembling with it, head falling forward, moaning uncontrollably.
"You’re close, aren’t you?" I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, fingers never stopping. "Right there… and you want it so bad."
"Please," she whispers, hips grinding into my hand like she doesn’t care what she’s begging for, only that I give it to her.
But I pull back.
Stop.
She whines, a sound that goes straight to my cock, legs unsteady, chest heaving.
"You don’t get to come yet," I say, mouth at her ear, letting my breath ghost over her skin. "Not until I say."
Her thighs are shaking. Her pussy clenches around nothing. And still she nods.
She likes it.
She wants this.
Control. Denial. Obedience.
And fuck, I want to give it to her.
Because she’s perfect like this… desperate, undone, waiting for me to decide when she gets to fall apart.
I drag my fingers from between her legs, slow and wet. She shudders. Whimpers. But doesn’t reach for me.
Doesn’t move.
And then…
She drops to her knees.
Her palms skim down my thighs as she sinks, kneeling in front of me like a fucking sin in that stolen shirt.
My dick is hard enough to ache, straining against my waistband, and when she looks up at me, eyes wide and dark and gleaming with want, I nearly lose it.
"Ivy…" I croak.
She tilts her head. Smiles.
And it’s wicked. Dangerous.
"Tell me to stop."
She knows I won’t.
Knows I can’t.
Instead, I fist a hand in her hair, just enough to make her gasp, just enough to feel her breathe faster under my grip.
"You’re playing with fire," I growl, voice almost a snarl.
"I know."
She licks her lips. That same reckless fire in her eyes.
"And I hope it burns."
Then she moves. Slowly, like she's savoring every second.
Her hands slide to the waistband of my pants, fingers teasing, sliding beneath the fabric with deliberate slowness. I feel the heat of her touch through the cloth, each tug of the material a promise of something hotter.
She pulls them down, just enough to free me, her fingers brushing against me with a soft, almost calculating touch. The air feels colder against the exposed skin, but it’s the way she looks at me, eyes gleaming with that reckless fire, that has the heat in my blood spiking again.
And then, like she’s in no rush at all, she moves again.
Her mouth is heat. Wet and eager and filthy in the most perfect way. She licks the head of my cock like she’s savoring it, then takes me in with a slow, devastating glide that has my knees damn near buckling.
"Fuck," I groan, head dropping back, the wall catching me.
She sets a rhythm, slow, then fast, tongue swirling, lips tightening. Every pass of her mouth wrecks my ability to think.
Her nails dig into my hips, holding me in place. No hesitation. No fear. Just hunger.
And when I tug her hair again, harder, she moans.
She loves it.
Wants it rough. Messy. Wild.
So I give it to her.
"Look at me," I growl, tightening my grip. "Eyes up, Ivy."
She does.
Fucking hell, she does, and those eyes?
They own me.
Every nerve ending in my body is lit up, blood boiling, my control hanging by a thread.
She sucks me deeper, throat fluttering around me, eyes glassy with effort and want, and I know I’m not going to last.
Not like this.
"Ivy, I…"
Her lips slide off my cock with a wet pop, and she looks up at me, lips swollen, breath hot, spit glistening on her chin, and I’m so fucking close to the edge, I could tip over from just that.
But I want more.
She deserves more.
I pull her up fast, fist still in her hair, and she stumbles into me, breath catching as I kiss her like I’ve already come apart.
She tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted and shouldn’t touch.
I lift her off the ground, one hand gripping her ass, the other tangled in her hair, and carry her to the kitchen counter like I own her. She wraps her legs around me, hips rolling instinctively, grinding against the slick head of my cock where it presses hot and ready between her thighs.
She gasps at the contact, eyes going wide.
"Put me on it," she pants, breath scorching my neck. "I need to feel you. Now."
I press her back onto the counter, braced between my arms, and she reaches down, no hesitation, grips me tight, strokes once, twice, slicking me with her arousal.
I hiss through my teeth, head tipping forward to rest against hers.
I push her thighs wider and line myself up, cock sliding through the slick heat of her folds until I’m not sure whose moan that was… hers or mine.
Then I thrust in, slow and deep, and we both shatter.
She moans, head falling back, thighs shaking around my hips.
"Fuck, Freddie…"
"I know," I grunt, kissing her collarbone, biting down just enough to make her gasp. "You feel unreal. So fucking tight, baby. Taking me so good."
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging hard, and it makes my rhythm stutter.
"You like it rough?" I ask, voice low and mean in her ear.
"Yes," she breathes, already wrecked. "Harder. Please."
So I give it to her.
Hard and fast. The slap of skin echoing in the room, her whimpers rising with every thrust.
She’s clawing at my back now, heels digging into me, grinding into every stroke like she wants it deeper. Wants me buried inside her until there’s nothing left.
"Get down," I rasp, pulling out.
She gasps at the loss, but obeys… slides off the counter, knees wobbling.
"Turn around. Bend over."
She doesn’t hesitate.
Hands on the counter. Ass out. Waiting. Begging.
I shove the panties to the side again and slam into her from behind, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding around her front to toy with her clit.
She cries out, high and breathless.
"Shhh, baby," I murmur, voice rough in her ear as I thrust deeper, slower, holding her hips still. "You gotta stay quiet, yeah? She’s just upstairs."
Her moans turn to sobs of pleasure.
"You close?"
"Y… yes, please, Freddie, I need it… please…"
"Not yet."
I slow down. Just enough to torture us both. Her whole body trembles under me.
"Say it again," I murmur, mouth at her neck, voice a razor’s edge.
"I want you," she sobs. "I want this. I want everything."
That’s all it takes.
I grab her wrists and pin them behind her back, pressing her cheek to the cold counter, hips snapping into her with brutal rhythm.
She cries out, body seizing, climax barreling through her, hard and hot and loud, and fuck, I feel every pulse of it.
Her pussy spasms around me, dragging me under.
I can’t hold it anymore.
I thrust once. Twice. Then I’m gone, groaning her name like a prayer as I explode inside her, hips jerking, stars behind my eyes.
We stay like that, tangled, breathless, for what feels like forever.
Her hair’s a mess. My hands are shaking. The kitchen smells like sex and sweat and Ivy.
I gently ease out of her, breathing hard, and she whimpers at the loss. I bend to kiss her shoulder, then her spine, then the base of her neck.
"Come here," I murmur, pulling her close, arms around her as she turns to face me.
"Wow," she whispers, voice wrecked and hoarse as she leans into me. "That was…"
"Yeah." I press my lips to her temple. "That was."
I step back and roll the condom off, grabbing a paper towel to clean up before tossing it in the trash. But just as I go to tie it up, something catches my eye.
A tiny slit. Barely there.
Near the base. Right where it would've rolled tight over the ring.
My brow furrows.
"Ivy," I say, turning just enough for her to look over.
Her eyes are still heavy lidded, hazy with afterglow. "Hmm?"
I hold it up, angled so she can see. "Looks like it might’ve… torn. A little."
She straightens, blinking now, the haze clearing. "Wait, seriously?"
I nod, squinting at it. "Yeah. Here… look." I show her the spot. It’s small. Clean. Like a nick. "Right near the bottom. Probably didn’t even… I mean, it’s not like…"
Her gaze shifts between it and my face. "You didn’t finish outside."
"No. But with the tear here?" I glance at it again, brow tense. "It's so low, it probably didn't matter. The tip’s intact."
We stare at it together in silence for a moment. It feels absurdly anticlimactic… this fragile little thing, flimsy and useless now, after everything.
She exhales slowly. "Okay. Not ideal. But not the end of the world, right?"
"Right," I agree, nodding. "Worst case, I’ll run out and get Plan B in the morning. Just in case."
"Okay."
She bites her lip, thoughtful. But then she looks at me again, really looks, and whatever tension was starting to creep in softens.
"Still worth it," she murmurs.
And that?
That undoes me all over again.