Chapter 60 Caleb
The moonlight filters through Ivy's curtains, catching on the midnight blue silk of her slip dress. She's stretched out beside me, and my breath catches at how the delicate fabric embraces her curves. The neckline dips just low enough to make my fingertips itch with the need to trace it.
We've shared a bed before, back at the wedding, but this feels worlds apart. The air hums with everything we confessed downstairs. With the lingering taste of her lips by the fire. With all the promises we're hovering on the edge of making.
Her room smells like her, that gentle vanilla candle she favors mingling with the subtle lavender from her pillow spray. It's quintessentially Ivy in a way that tightens something in my chest.
"Stop overthinking." Her voice floats through the darkness. When I turn, she's already watching me, those cobalt eyes luminous in the dim light.
"Can't help it. You're kind of distracting."
The corner of her mouth lifts as she shifts closer, her palm sliding up my thigh. The touch is innocent enough, but it sends a jolt straight to my cock. Her fingers trace higher, and my pulse hammers so hard I swear she can hear it.
"Babe." It comes out rough, meant as a warning, but she merely hums, her fingertips creating maddening patterns that leave me breathless.
"Yes?" She props herself up, hair cascading over one shoulder, the other hand continuing its torturous path.
The silver light catches the midnight blue of her hair, makes her skin gleam like marble. I never thought I'd be here with her. Never imagined she'd want me like this. Not after how badly I fucked things up before.
I catch her wrist. "We should—fuck—we should slow down."
"Why?" Her thumb finds my pulse point where I'm still holding her, and my grip involuntarily loosens.
"Because last time—" The words jam in my throat.
"This isn't last time." She slips free and glides her palm up my abdomen. The cool touch makes my muscles contract. "And I'm done waiting."
The confidence in her voice hits somewhere deep as her hand drifts lower, teasing along my waistband, and making my hips jerk upward. The sheets smell like fabric softener and her—that sweet, clean scent that always makes me think of lazy mornings in bed even though I've never had one with her.
Until now, maybe.
"Shit, Ivy—"
"I need you." She breathes the words against my neck, her lips following the confession. "Need to feel you. Need to taste you."
Her mouth trails down, hitting every spot that makes me shudder. Her nails rake lightly across my skin, pulling a sound from me I barely recognize. She's taking me apart piece by agonizing piece, and the pressure building in my body is fucking unbearable.
The cottage is so quiet I can distinguish the ancient radiator's clicks, and the whisper of wind through the trees beyond her window. But all of that fades when she looks up at me through her lashes, hair tumbling over her face, and the reality hits me.
This is happening.
She wants me.
"You're killing me," I manage, as she flicks her tongue over the ridge of my hip bone.
She peers up, the sight of her poised above my cock making my vision blur. "Good."
When her fingers hook into the waistband of my boxers, the last of my restraint snaps. But not in the reckless, greedy way it did before.
"Wait—"
She freezes immediately, eyes searching mine. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." My voice is rough. "God, nothing's wrong." I run my hands up her arms, coaxing her higher until we're face to face. Her hair tumbles in a messy halo around her shoulders, and I brush it back with a trembling hand. "I just . . . I want this to be about you. Let me take care of you first."
Her breath stutters, like the words catch her off guard. As if no one has ever bothered to put her pleasure first. Something fierce and possessive surges through me.
I kiss her hard, pouring everything into it. All the regret I've carried since that disastrous night, when I rushed through what should have been amazing, and broke the only thing that mattered. Us.
She melts against me with a sigh, and when I gently roll us so she's beneath me, she yields. Her silk slip has ridden up around her waist, revealing the creamy expanse of her thighs, and the fabric whispers against the sheets.
"You're sure?" she whispers, and it floors me that she's still asking.
I trace the curve of her cheek, taking in how she looks right now—flushed and rumpled, and so fucking beautiful it hurts. "Yeah, Shortcake." I kiss her again, softer this time. "I've never been more certain of anything."
She nods and I trail my lips down her neck, tongue finding her pulse point. Her heartbeat races beneath my mouth, and knowing I'm doing this to her—that I make her feel this way—makes my cock throb painfully against the mattress.
I savor her. She arches when my mouth discovers the hollow between her collarbones, gasps when I venture lower to the base of her throat, and her nails leave crescent moons in my shoulders when my teeth graze sensitive skin.
Each sound she makes surpasses the last, becoming an addiction I have no desire to break.
"Can I?" My voice is gravel as I catch the hem of her slip, and she nods instantly, lifting her hips to help me.
I drag the silk upward with agonizing deliberation, my gaze devouring every inch of skin as it's exposed.
When I finally get it over her head, I nearly swallow my tongue.
She's wearing nothing but tiny black lace panties that barely cover anything, a stark contrast against her creamy skin.
Holy shit. Her tits are perfect—full, and topped with rosy nipples that have already hardened under my stare.
The dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the plush stomach—I want to mark every inch of her as mine.
"You're drooling," she murmurs, pink blooming down her chest.
"Can't help it." My thumb traces the curve under her breast, watching goosebumps follow my touch. "You look like every dream I've ever had come to life."
"A dirty one?" she teases.
"The absolute filthiest," I growl against her navel, moving lower.
Her thighs part the moment I shift down the bed, her body anticipating what's coming. I settle between them, hands anchoring her hips as my thumbs toy with the lace along her center, deliberately avoiding where she wants me most.
The heady scent of her arousal clouds my senses. She's drenched, the black lace dark and clinging to her pussy, and the sight makes my mouth flood.
She jolts when I press my mouth to the sensitive skin beside her core.
"Use your words," I demand, breathing hot against her center. "Tell me what you want."
Her fingers weave into my hair, tugging with enough force to make me groan. The sharp sting sends heat spiraling through me. "Your mouth. I need your mouth on me. I want you to make me come."
That plea demolishes me. I hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I reveal her bare pussy, already swollen and glistening wet. The sight alone has me grinding against the mattress, desperate for any friction.
Fuck, she's perfect. All of her. The way she's watching me with those huge blue eyes, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, thighs spread wide like she's offering herself up for worship.
I press my lips to her inner thigh, then the other, inhaling that intoxicating mix of soap and arousal.
The skin here is impossibly soft, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my mouth.
When I finally drag my tongue through her slick folds, the taste explodes across my senses and her hips buck with a broken cry.
"You taste incredible," I groan, burying my face deeper.
Her moan cuts through me, and she tries to grind against my face, but I pin her hips down, licking long, deliberate strokes. The sounds she makes—soft whimpers evolving into desperate moans—drive me insane. When I close my lips around her clit and suck, her breathing shatters.
"Caleb—oh god—" My name breaks on her lips.
I devour her, circling her with my tongue, drawing her in until her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
The sheets tangle beneath us, and the old bed frame creaks with each movement.
Her nails scrape my scalp, the sting exquisite, and I groan against her pussy, the vibration pulling another cry from her throat.
This surpasses every fantasy I've harbored.
I slide a finger inside her, and her pussy clenches around me so tight I almost lose it. The heat of her, the way she squeezes down like she's starving for it, has me rutting harder into the mattress.
"That's it. That's my girl. So fucking perfect for me."
My girl. The words feel right. True. Like they've been waiting in my chest for months. Years, even.
Her body arches, trying to take more, but I hold her steady. Every taste of her is better than the last and, and I know I'll never have enough. The room grows warmer, filled with the symphony of her pleasure.
"There?" I murmur, focusing my tongue exactly where she needs it.
"Yes . . . please don't stop . . . right there . . ."
I add a second finger, stretching her while keeping up the rhythm with my tongue. She writhes beneath me, panting, hair plastered to her temples with sweat, and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"You're doing so good," I whisper against her slick flesh. "Let go for me."
She's right there, hovering on the edge, but still holding back like she's afraid to completely surrender. I can feel the tension in her thighs, see it in how her fingers clutch the sheets.
"Caleb, I can't . . . it's too much."
"Yes, you fucking can," I growl, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. "Don't hold back. Give it to me."
Ivy tightens around my fingers and then breaks. She gushes, soaking my hand and mouth, wetness spilling down her thighs and onto the sheets. The sudden rush makes me groan in shock and fierce satisfaction.
"Holy shit," I rasp, licking her clean.
Her eyes fly open, panic washing over her face as she tries to cover herself. "Oh my god. Caleb, I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry! That's never—"
"Uh-uh." I cut in, already pushing her back down. My hands force her thighs apart and I dive in again. "Don't ever apologize for that. Jesus, babe, it was the hottest thing I've ever experienced."
And it was. I loved the way she completely let go. The way she trusted me enough to lose herself entirely. I want to bring her there again and again until she stops questioning her own pleasure.
She whimpers, trying to twist away, but I don't give her time to regroup.
"Too much," she pants, voice breaking.
"You can take it." I lap gently at her gently, coaxing her back up. "One more for me."
Her skin is slick with sweat, and flushed everywhere. She pulses around my fingers, still riding the aftershocks of her first orgasm, and when I curl them deeper she cries out.
"More?" I rasp.
She nods frantically, her hands fisting in the sheets by her head. But her body answers more honestly. She gets even wetter around my fingers, and I can feel the rhythmic fluttering of her walls that means she's close again.
"Ivy." My voice is rough with awe. "You're so beautiful."
I ease a third finger inside, stretching her open, and press open-mouthed kisses across her quivering stomach.
She moans, back arching off the bed, and the second I suck her clit back into my mouth she screams, thighs clamping around my head, heels digging into the mattress as pleasure rips through her.
Her sobs tear at me, desperate and unrestrained, but I don't stop. Not when she trembles. Not when she squirts again, soaking the sheets beneath us. Not when her voice breaks around my name. I hold her steady, drawing every last spasm out of her until she collapses, drenched and utterly ruined.
Ivy's final moan shatters me, and a strangled groan tears from my throat as I rut helplessly against the mattress, coming in my boxers like a fucking teenager. But I don't care. Not when she's still pulsing against my tongue. Not when I know I did this to her.
I pull back slowly, kissing my way up her trembling thighs, her soft stomach, the valley between her breasts. When I reach her mouth, I hover just above it
"You okay?" I murmur, brushing damp strands from her forehead. Her skin is feverish against my fingertips, and she looks like she's been thoroughly ravished.
She opens her eyes, dazed and stunned. "I've never . . ." Her voice catches. "I didn't know I could . . ."
I press a kiss to her flushed cheek. "You can," I say, smug as hell now. "With me, apparently."
"Shut up." She laughs, mortified and glowing, and I know I'll chase that sound forever.
"I'm obsessed with you," I whisper. "And I can't wait to make you do it again."
I collapse beside her, heart pounding, every nerve still buzzing. The sheets are a disaster beneath us, and the room smells like sex and her vanilla candle and something that's purely us. She slides her hand down my stomach, and I snag it mid-movement before she gets too far.
"Why are you stopping me?"
I glance away, heat rising in my face. "I, uh . . . already finished."
Her eyes go wide. "No, you didn't."
"Yeah. I did."
"Just from that?"
I nod without apology. "You'd understand if you were between your own thighs."
She dissolves into laughter. "That might be the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me," she admits, and I grin.
"Don't move." I drop a soft kiss into her palm before getting up to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. The cold tile shocks my feet, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—hair destroyed, face still wet from her, looking completely wrecked and not sorry about it.
When I return, I clean her up gently, then myself, tossing my ruined boxers aside and climbing into bed beside her, naked and exhausted.
Already reaching for me, she curls into my side, and I pull her close until she's tucked beneath my chin, her hand resting over my heart. The weight of her against me is right, like she belongs exactly there.
"That felt different," she whispers.
I kiss her temple. "It was."
I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—citrus, and something floral that I'll probably dream about for the rest of my life.
"Stay," I whisper, not sure if I mean tonight or forever.
She presses her lips to my collarbone. "Not going anywhere."
This time, when she falls asleep in my arms, I don't think about what happens if it all goes wrong. I just hold her tighter, listening to her breathing even out, her heart syncing steady against mine.
I could build a life around this feeling. I want to build a life around this feeling.
For once, I believe I might actually deserve it.