Chapter 20I’d do anything for this woman.
TWENTY
I’d do anything for this woman.
Trace
I have looked in my rearview mirror more in the last ten minutes than a man on a high speed getaway from the damn cops.
She’s still there, you idiot, my brain chants. I’ve never had this shiver of worry in my bones, this flicker of panic in my chest that maybe she won’t show up.
At the next stop light, I straighten in my seat behind the wheel and picture the small tattoo on my hip. Even new and raw, the thought of it makes my heart thump. My lips tingle and I realize I’m smiling.
A horn sounds from behind me, causing me to jerk my gaze up, seeing the light is now green. Glancing in the rearview, I see Ivy pointing at the green light, shaking her head.
I hit the gas, eager to get her to my house, lay her on my bed, spread her wide and feast on what I now know is undoubtedly the most beautiful, perfect cunt ever.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her lips, how soft they were, how sexy her moans were as she rode me. How fucking flushed and gorgeous she looked as she fell apart all over that toy, in my lap, teasing and pleasing me unlike ever before.
Flicking on my blinker, I nudge myself to think of things I have historically avoided.
The hard shit.
Like the fact that I really like Ivy. Not a fleeting thing where I use her energy to feed my endorphins and adrenaline, only to kick her to the curb once it passes.
I want Ivy.
I want her to be my girl. I want to show up at Ink Time every day with her, sit next to her, talk to her over the partitions, eat lunch with her at Goode’s, go to that farmers market everyone is always talking about. I want the life I envisioned years back, before fame and money.
I want to be a dad. I want to wear a wedding band and have a back seat full of groceries and a house full of responsibilities waiting after a long day.
I long for that.
And now that I’ve met Ivy, I’m no longer afraid to say I want that. I’m not afraid to chase it as fast as my legs will go, arms out, palms open.
But I’m afraid I’m not ready. I’m afraid the old me will claw his way through me and take over if I’m under any stress. And I don’t want to hurt Ivy.
I want to be good enough for her, brave enough to ask her to live our dreams out together. Strong enough to know she may say no, and I might have to live with that.
I don’t want to turn back to the booze and babes. If I quit lying to myself, I can admit that I never really wanted that. But I wanted to appear better. Bigger. Nonchalant. Unhurt. Unfazed.
And the stupid part is? I don’t even know if it worked, if I fooled the ones that hurt me, because I never checked to see.
They hurt me, and then I did everything in my power to hurt me, too.
I put my car in park and when I step out, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, dusk settling around us like a warm blanket, I realize this car has to go. It doesn’t fit this life, and it doesn’t fit me.
Ivy’s door slams closed and I turn to spot her, walking toward me through the purple glow of the setting sun, fireflies popping off in the haze, a gentle breeze lifting the ends of her hair.
She’s a masterpiece. Inked perfection in torn tights.
“You came,” I murmur, my voice hoarse and raw.
“Actually, you came,” she smirks, her slender shoulder bumping mine as she passes by. Stuck in my spot, I watch her hips sway as she climbs the steps to the front door. Wiggling her fingers, she peers over her shoulder at me, the porch light painting her in soft yellows, accentuating the wide curve of her lips, making her Cupid’s bow almost edible. “Now let us in so I can come, too.”
Leaping up the stairs, I fumble with my keys, and she laughs, the toes of our black boots kissing on the concrete. I drag my phone from my pocket and hover it above.
“What are you doing?” she questions, her hand on the doorknob, waiting for me to let us in.
I take a picture of our feet, and show her. The dusty tops of black boots, the melting sky and dim porch light making the scene look like a watercolor come to life. “Our feet look good together,” I tell her, realizing after I say it that it’s kind of weird.
But Ivy taps the screen and a moment later says, “I sent that to myself. I love it.”
Our eyes idle as a bug flits between us, reminding us we need to get inside. I need to get inside her, but for now, inside the house will do.
A jiggle and turn and we’re inside. Twisting the deadbolt, I flick on the lights and face her. But she’s not even there anymore. She’s already headed down the hall, to the bedroom in the back.
Stopping in the doorway, ten feet from me, Ivy’s long dark hair cascades down her back, making my poor balls ache. “You’re beautiful, Ivy. All the fucking time. You know that?”
Her smile spins me out, as the cage seemingly shrinks in size. “Of course I know.” Her wink has me running down the hall, and she dips into my room with a playful giggle as I chase her.
Standing shirtless and breathless in the doorway, she holds my eyes, unlacing her boots one by one, sifting a long finger through the laces.
“Did you take off the cage or leave it on?”
I dig the key from my pocket and let the chain dangle from my middle finger. “It’s on.”
“I told you to take it off,” she says, kicking off her first boot, moving to the second.
“I’m not a good listener,” I reply, “and I was hoping you could take it off.”
With one boot off and one on, she makes her way toward me, pressing her fingertip between my pecs. “If I wanted to touch your cock, I would have touched it. If I tell you to take it off, it’s because I want you to take it off.”
She steps back, kicks off her other boot and shucks off her leggings, standing before me in a skimpy little bodysuit. Her nipples pierce the fabric, one arm and one leg inked, her long hair curtaining her face. She’s a knockout. It’s criminal how hot she is.
I’d do anything for this woman.
It takes the same time as a sneeze for me to undress. Grabbing my swollen, sticky package, I fumble until the key slips into the tiny lock, and I give it a twist. The device splits open and falls into my palm.
I let it all drop to the floor with a thunk and begin massaging myself, kneading out the grooves in my cock left by the metal, but Ivy says, “Don’t touch.”
My hands drop to my sides like I’m at gunpoint.
Or in Ivy’s case, knife point.
Her hand comes to her shoulder, pushing the strap off the soft slope of her body. She repeats on the other side, and I watch with rapt focus and a dry mouth as she removes her bodysuit.
I’ve seen her naked. I’ve watched her come.
But knowing that she’s in my house and I’m about to put my mouth on her sweet pussy, seeing her naked now is almost fucking painful.
“Fuck me, Ivy, you’re so perfect.” My eyes roam her curves, her pinkened and plucky nipples, the pieces of art she’s chosen for her body in a variety of styles, and the white of her painted toenails. Need sears my chest from the inside out.
She’s watching my cock, so I look down at him too, my fingers drumming my thighs at my sides. I’m so goddamn hard. I haven’t been hard like this in years. Booze, drugs, lack of sleep, age—all reasons I told myself why I never got rock hard anymore.
But in the moonlight, the most beautiful perfect woman in front of me, a smirk curling her lips and my sheetless bed behind her, my cock stands hard and thick, a pearly bead of precum waiting at the slit. Against my belly, the heat of my erection makes me feral, and I move toward her.
She backs up, making me groan. “Stay there,” she breathes, “stay there until I’m ready for you.”
I nod, my mouth open and my chin coated in drool.
After dragging a random quilt from a moving box and fanning it over my newly delivered bed, she crawls in the center, her back against the wall. Slowly, her legs part, and I can’t look away from the way the mattress dips as she digs her heels in, preparing for me.
My gaze travels from her leg to her pussy, glistening even in the ill-lit room. “You’re wet,” I croak, my cock now painfully hard, aching and throbbing. I think if I even touch it right now I’d rocket off.
“You in your cage was hot,” she says, reaching down, her fingers spreading apart her cunt. “And now you’re going to lick up the mess I made because of you, then you’re going to wash my panties because you made me get those wet, too.”
“Okay,” I reply, faster than a speeding fucking bullet. Seriously, I think the new order is: speed of light, South Korean internet, S4714 star in the galaxy and horny, teased man in love with a woman who is bringing him back to life.
Kneeing my way onto the mattress, Ivy snaps, motioning me down. “On your belly, with your hands on my inner thighs.”
I do as she says, no part of me grappling for control, no part of me even wanting it. And that’s the first time in years I’ve felt happy in existing with a woman, not caring about the power dynamic, not needing to hold the reins.
I just want her.
“Can I?” I ask, my mouth hovering and watering above her bare cunt. God I can smell her. Sweet and subtle, like amber and patchouli, slightly tangy too, like arousal and desire. I swallow as my cock presses painfully against the mattress. I haven’t touched myself in two days, and I’m hyperaware of that now as precum smears into the quilt, my balls fucking pounding between my legs.
“You may,” she allows, biting into her bottom lip with the tiniest dip of her head.
Peering down, I take in the sparkle of her wet cunt beneath me, the way her lips peek open partly, her arousal making her bloom. Her clit is swollen and pink and after a moment of taking her in, she lifts her hips from the bed, causing my mouth to crash into her.
“Eat me, Trace, don’t make me say it again.”
Jesus Christ. My cock leaks, and I’m not even sure it’s precum anymore. I think I’m actually leaking cum , but I ignore the signals in my own body and focus on Ivy.
Snaking my tongue between her lips, I delve inside of her, exploring more of what I now know is my favorite flavor. She’s sweet like jam, salty with arousal, and when I move the tip of my tongue around her clit, the sound she makes is pure heaven.
My bedroom comes alive for the first time ever, her gentle crooning echoing off the emptiness, filling the space with the perfect mix of desire and frantic need. Her fingers sweep through my hair, pushing it away from my face as I blink up at her, past the terrain of her full breasts, into her deep blue eyes.
She doesn’t say anything, but her gaze speaks to me. It urges me on, telling me she wants more, she wants more of me, my mouth, my body, all of it. A storm of emotion tears through me, leaving my chest full and aching. I press my mouth into her, ignoring it, lapping at her sweetness, sucking on her little clit.
“Oh God,” she murmurs, her head rolling against the wall, a tangle of beautiful black hair everywhere. I dig my thumbs into her thighs, using my nose to nudge her clit as I stroke my tongue inside of her. She’s open, wet, her body ready for my cock. But I fuck her with my tongue, my own body sending me the same signals.
I’m ready to be inside of her, my cock savagely swollen and hungry against the bed. Each lunge of my tongue into her sweetness causes me to move a little against the mattress, my own orgasm coiling tighter as I do.
“Suck on my clit, and stick your finger in my ass,” she hums, telling me what she needs, her cheeks flush, nipples puckered. God I want to eat her pussy but equally crawl up her body and suck one of those little tips into my mouth while I drive my cock deep inside of her.
But I do as she says and suck her clit into my mouth, gently rolling it between my teeth as I sink my thumb into her ass. She tightens around me, and I nearly lose it. “Ivy,” I groan into her pussy, hoping to God that her scent lingers on my stubble.
With her fingers still in my hair, she tugs me, stealing my mouth away from her body. “If you don’t come when I come, I’ll let you fuck me.”
Jesus Christ. I didn’t know sex was on the table. But I hadn’t planned on coming on the bed and myself like a fucking teenager, either.
“Easy,” I grin, loving her stickiness on my lips. She smirks but rolls her eyes, pressing me deeper into her cunt. I love the way her nails grate my scalp, reminding me that she is in possession of me, not the other way around.
Her legs widen as I suckle at her clit, my thumb making circles in her ass. She moans and cries out, and my cock weeps and weeps. Fucking crybaby. The coil in my gut winds tight, and my legs get the telltale trembles, and my toes begin to curl.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, sucking her clit deeper, moving my thumb quicker.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, her thighs trembling around me in the periphery. She’s close.
I just need to make it another thirty seconds, and then I get to sink into this silky, velvety heaven. I can do this.
“Trace, are you gonna eat me until I come? Hmm?” she asks, her tone laced with unbridled need. “Make me come, Trace Wade, make me come all over your face.” Her head hits the wall as her gaze drops to my mouth on her cunt.
“That’s right,” she urges as my stupid hips grind mindlessly into the mattress.
Fuck. I have to stop moving. I have to stop moving.
Suddenly she lifts her legs off the bed and wraps them around me, her heels digging into my back as she erupts, moaning my name in a way I’ve never heard.
“ Traaace ,” she draws out, her hands coming to her breasts, thumbs moving across her nipples. “Trace, you’re making me come, you’re… oh God, Trace,” she breathes, her sweet little asshole clenching around my thumb, sucking it up as her pussy pulses—that's all it takes.
Her sweet orgasm flooding my mouth, my name on her lips, her legs keeping me locked into my bed with her— “Fuck, Ivy!” I growl in between sucks and nibbles, my orgasm spilling free as I grind and feast.
I’m throbbing, each ribbon of pearly relief trapped between my belly and the quilt, creating a pool of warm mess. I can’t help it. I can’t stop. I move my hips, trying to find more friction for my cock as I unload yet again, all the while eating her through her orgasm.
When she’s nothing more than a bumbling mess, her legs slide down from my back, trembling around my face. I stay there, against the mattress, prolonging heaven as I dust kisses over her used, swollen cunt.
“Firecracker,” I groan, licking the insides of her thighs, unable to leave my new favorite spot.
“Trace,” she breathes, pushing her hands through her hair, exposing her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “That was so good,” she says, her compliment landing ten thousand times more powerful than any compliment in the studio. Being praised by Ivy makes my skin hot and my groin tight. She lowers a hand to my face, cupping my cheek as much as she can. “Get on your knees, on the bed,” she whispers.
“Ivy, I can’t—I can’t fuck you,” I admit sheepishly, because motherfucker. I have never wanted to be inside of someone so badly.
She smirks. “I know. I knew you came. I knew you were going to come. But I want to see it.” She sits up farther, scooting her pussy away from me. “Show me the mess you made.”
I get to my knees, finding the pool of cum on the quilt, smeared along my stomach, rivulets hanging in my happy trail.
After surveying the mess, I look up at her, finding her smiling at me. “You fucked up your quilt.”
“Actually,” I smile, grabbing a towel from the floor. I think this was yesterday’s shower towel. I get to work cleaning up the mess as I eye her on my bed. “I fucked the quilt, but fortunately she’s not looking for anything serious.”
Ivy laughs, bringing her hand to her collarbone. “So corny.”
I cock a brow as I finish wiping up what I can, off my body and then hers. Her orgasm was messy, and fuck if I don’t wanna get hard again just thinking about it. “You like my corny,” I reply, outstretching a hand to her. She takes it with a questioning look.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I drag her off the mattress. I gather her clothes from the floor, and she puts her hand out, ready to take them.
“I’ll dress you,” I reply. That’s the first time I’ve said that. “But you’re wearing one of my shirts.”
“Okay, but don’t forget, you need to rinse my panties out in the sink.” She folds her arms over her chest, nodding toward the open bathroom door. Without question, I do as she says, getting hard again as I stroke my thumb over the damp strip of white cotton centering her thong. Why is this so hot? I don’t know, but as I rinse them beneath the tap, I catch sight of the firecracker on my hip.
My eyes burn and my chest tightens. I lift my gaze to the mirror, finding my reflection in a powerful moment wherein I realize… This tattoo means the most.
I love Ivy.