Chapter 44 Ivy
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Ivy
I stare at the text.
Freddie: Can you come by the shop? Please. It’s time.
Oh no.
This is hard.
I don’t know what this means, but I know it’s going to be life changing.
But truth be told, I guess we do need to do this.
My hands shake as I set the phone down on the kitchen counter. Pickle lifts his head from the couch, watching me as if he knows I’m about to walk into something dangerous.
I nearly don’t go.
I nearly throw my phone into the laundry basket with the rest of the mess I’ve been pretending to fold for what might as well be forever.
I nearly crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend none of this is happening.
That I’m not four months pregnant. That I’m not carrying triplets.
That I’m not caught in the gravitational pull of three men who each have the potential to either save me or destroy me completely.
But I do go.
Because part of me needs to settle this.
Because no matter how scared I am, how cracked down the center I feel, I’m not a coward…
The bell above the shop door jingles like it always does. Familiar. Almost comforting.
But everything else is different.
The lights are on low. Tools packed away. The front is cleaner than usual, like someone actually tried to make it presentable. And standing in the middle of it, in some kind of terrifying dream team reunion?
Freddie. Timothy. Mitchell.
They all look up when I walk in.
Mitchell’s the first to drop his gaze. The weight of it might pin me in place if he stares too long. Timothy just watches me, his arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable but intense. And Freddie… Freddie gives me the smallest nod.
An invitation.
I take a breath. Then another. Then I step fully inside and let the door click shut behind me.
“Okay,” I say. My voice is hoarse. “What’s going on?”
The silence is thick, electric. None of them rush to fill it. They just look at me, like they’ve made up their minds about something, and now I’m the one catching up.
It makes my pulse thud in my ears.
I brace for heart break. For one of them, or all of them, to say they’re out. That this is too much. That I’m too much.
But that’s not what I get.
Instead, Freddie clears his throat and takes a small step toward me. “We’ve been talking… about the babies. And you are not alone. No matter what you decide to do.”
I have to warn them.
It’s only right.
My throat tightens. “Jesse knows too,” I say, voice rough. “He found the ultrasound photos. I didn’t mean for him to… I wasn’t ready.”
Their faces shift. Not with judgment. Just… concern. Protective instinct. Especially from Mitchell, who steps a little closer, his jaw tight.
“Was he awful about it?” he asks, eyes scanning mine bracing for the worst.
“No,” I whisper. “Not really. Just hurt. Blindsided. But he doesn’t know about you guys.”
“Well, I’m here for you,” Mitchell promises. He looks up at me, eyes bloodshot and honest. “I’m not running. Not from you. Not from them. Not from this. I shouldn’t have said what I did before, and I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.”
Freddie steps beside him. “And I’m here too.”
And then Timothy, quiet until now, shifts forward.
“I don’t have a speech,” he says. “Just… I’ve known for weeks what I wanted to say. I just didn’t think I’d get the chance.” His eyes burn into mine. “I’m all in, Ivy. Whatever this is. However it works. I’m not scared of the chaos.”
My hands tremble. My knees nearly give.
“But this doesn’t make sense,” I whisper. “This isn’t how real life works.”
Timothy tilts his head. “Since when has anything about us been normal?”
“We’re not promising this’ll be easy,” Freddie adds.
“Or tidy,” Mitchell says.
“Or even particularly functional,” Timothy finishes, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
I laugh, a sharp, watery sound. “You’re all insane.”
“Probably,” Mitchell says. “But so are you. And we’re choosing you anyway.”
Freddie nods. “We don’t have all the answers. We don’t even have most of them.”
“But we do have a choice,” Timothy says. “And we’re making it.”
They’re all looking at me again, and this time it isn’t pressure, it being seen. Chosen. Held.
Mitchell steps closer, voice softer now. “You can say no. You can tell us this isn’t what you want. We’ll deal with it. But if there’s a part of you that still wants us, even just a little, we’re not going anywhere.”
My heart stutters.
I look at them, really look, and feel something inside me shift. Not suddenly. Not like lightning.
But slowly, a sunrise.
I don’t have the words yet. Don’t even know what I can say.
So I do the only thing that makes sense.
I nod.
Just once.
And the relief that blooms across their faces nearly brings me to my knees.
No, this doesn’t fix everything. There are still a thousand conversations ahead. A thousand fears. A thousand ways this could go wrong.
But they’re still here.
They chose me.
And maybe, I can choose them back.
I don’t know who moves first.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe it’s Mitchell, his eyes locked on mine like he’s waited years for this kind of clarity. Or Freddie, jaw tight as he’s trying not to bolt toward me. Or Timothy, still and quiet and absolutely burning.
But someone crosses the space. And then suddenly… they all do.
Mitchell’s hand brushes mine first, tentative, like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to.
I twine my fingers with his before I can overthink it. Before I can remind myself how complicated this is. How stupid. How dangerous it feels to hope again.
His breath catches. “Ivy…”
I don’t let him finish.
I lean up and press my mouth to his.
Mitchell’s mouth crashes into mine like it’s the last thing holding him together. There’s no hesitation this time, no guarded edge. Just heat and hunger and the kind of desperation that makes a girl forget how to stand.
His hands slide up my waist, greedy and reverent all at once, and I melt into him. I’ve been waiting my whole life to fit here.
But then there are more hands.
Timothy steps in close behind me, his body pressed firm and solid to my back, his breath warm against my neck. His hands settle at my hips, grounding me even as I tremble between them.
Freddie steps in beside us, his palm cupping my jaw as he tilts my face toward him, eyes burning of wildfire.
“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, rough with restraint.
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate. My voice is barely a whisper, but it rings with something deeper than certainty. “Please.”
That’s all it takes.
The moment splinters open.
Mitchell groans against my mouth, hands sliding lower, gripping my ass. Timothy’s fingers move under my shirt, tracing bare skin with maddening slowness. And Freddie kisses me too, fierce and claiming, as Mitchell mouths down my neck.
I can’t think. I don’t want to. They surround me completely, their bodies, their hands, their mouths, a storm I never want to escape.
Timothy’s voice rumbles low behind me. “Get this off.”
The shirt is gone before I can breathe. Mitchell’s already unhooking my leggings, sliding them down like a man unwrapping something sacred. Freddie turns to lock the door, shutting the blinds before he watches me from the shadows, hungry, jaw tight, eyes flaming.
“Ivy,” Mitchell murmurs. “No bra?”
I shrug, breathless. “Didn’t think I’d need one.”
Timothy groans behind me. “Fuck me.”
Mitchell’s grin is wicked. “We’re going to ruin you tonight.”
He nods toward the back room. “Chair.”
I know what that means now. I let them lead me, heart pounding, body thrumming with anticipation.
The tattoo chair is reclined low, leather gleaming, the overhead light casting everything in soft gold. A small black case sits open beside it on the rolling tray. Lube. Restraints. A slim glass toy. A vibe. A plug. And something that makes my breath catch, a collar.
Oh this is going to be so different to the last time I was here.
He lifts it now. “Want this?”
I meet his eyes. “Yes. Please.”
Timothy fastens it around my throat in a ceremony. Not tight. Just right. His fingers linger at the clasp, then stroke over the leather, possessive.
Mitchell lowers me into the chair. “Legs up. Wide.”
I obey.
Freddie steps in and secures soft cuffs around my thighs, attaching them to the chair’s arms. “Just to hold you open,” he says. “Not to trap you.”
The restraint is surrender. Safety. I whimper as air hits my bare core, already slick, already aching.
Timothy’s fingers trail down my belly. “She’s soaked already.”
“She’s ours,” Mitchell says, voice wrecked. “And tonight she’s getting every fucking inch.”
Then he holds up the plug, small, jeweled, glinting under the light.
“Ever used one of these, sweetheart?”
I shake my head, breath catching. “No.”
“You trust me to prep you for it?”
My stomach flips. “Yes.”
He kisses the inside of my knee. “Good girl.”
Mitchell slicks his fingers and begins slow, one finger circling, teasing, then slipping in gently as I gasp. Freddie leans over and sucks my nipple into his mouth while Timothy grips my jaw and kisses me deep, tongue stroking mine until I’m whimpering into his mouth.
“You’re doing so good,” Mitchell says. “Taking me so well.”
When I’m relaxed enough, he slides the plug into place. I cry out, half shocked, half ecstatic. The pressure is intense, full in a way I’ve never felt. Freddie strokes my belly, grounding me. “Still good?”
“Yes.”
Timothy grins. “Perfect.”
Mitchell turns on the vibrator, small, powerful, and he presses it just above my clit, not even fully touching, just hovering.
My hips jolt. I’m shaking almost immediately.
“I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he murmurs.
Freddie moves in behind me now, lifting my upper body and settling onto the chair so I’m straddling his lap, facing outward.
My arms are still free, my hands gripping his thighs as he cups my breasts from behind, rolling my nipples between his fingers while Mitchell kneels between my legs, eyes burning.
“You look like a goddess,” he whispers. “Ready for me?”
“Yes. Please. Mitchell, please.”
He slides inside in one smooth stroke, the plug making it so much. I cry out, body stretching, stuffed almost beyond what I can handle, and it’s perfect.
Freddie whispers filth in my ear as he holds me. “You’re so fucking full, baby. Look at you. Taking him deep.”
Timothy stands close now, the glass toy in his hand.
“Open your mouth.”
I obey, lips parting, and he slides the slick toy across my tongue before pulling it back and pressing it to my soaked folds, where Mitchell’s cock is already pounding into me. He slides it against my clit as Mitchell thrusts, making me cry out all over again.
“Good girl,” Timothy says, voice low. “You’re shaking. You close?”
I nod, eyes fluttering. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop…”
Freddie bites gently at my shoulder. “Come for us. Let go.”
The orgasm crashes over me so hard I nearly scream, muscles clenching, back arching as the plug, the cock, the vibe, all of it converges into white hot heat. I shudder, gasping, and Mitchell follows me, groaning as he spills inside me.
But it’s not over.
They take turns.
Freddie replaces Mitchell, cock thick and already leaking, and fucks me from behind with slow, grinding thrusts that hit deeper, more possessive. Timothy stays in front of me, pressing the vibe against my clit again, gentler this time, coaxing another orgasm from me before he lets me rest.
And finally, Timothy, who’s waited, watched, devoured every moment, sinks into me slow and deep, while the others hold me open, whispering praise in my ears.
“You’re mine too,” he groans. “You’re not walking out of here without knowing it.”
When I come again, it's not from friction. It's from everything. The pressure of their hands. The leather under my back. The collar at my throat. The way they say my name in a vow.
I break.
I shake.
I sob into Freddie’s shoulder as Timothy comes inside me, kissing my neck, sewing me back together with his mouth.
And when it's over, they don't untie me right away. They just hold me, stroking, kissing, murmuring promises into sweat damp skin.
“You’re ours,” Mitchell says softly, pulling a blanket over me. “No matter what.”
Freddie cups my belly. “All four of you.”
Timothy leans in and kisses my forehead. “You’ve never been more beautiful.”
And I believe them.
Because this…this wild, filthy, sacred thing we’ve built? It’s messy and strange and complicated as hell.
But it’s real.
And it's mine.