Go Home, Ivy

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

T he following morning started with the gentle drum of rain on the window. Ivy’s eyes snapped open as she sat up, briefly disoriented by the dark, unfamiliar room.

Memory flooded back when she saw Ross sat at the table across from her, shirtless, but with his back turned, a mercy to them both. Her hand twisted in the empty sheets beside her as her stomach rolled.

“Hey.”

Her gaze snapped up, coming in to focus on him across the room, and the churning in her stomach stopped.

“Hi.” She bit back the smile that teased her lips. “Did you restart the fire?”

“I just didn’t let it go out.” He shrugged, turning over his shoulder to look at it. As he flexed round, the ripple along his chest seemed to spread across the room and engulf her. She wanted to drown in it. When he turned back to her, the tips of his ears were painted pink. “Were you warm enough?”

“I was. Thank you.”

He nodded. It looked like he did it to reassure himself more than her. He looked back at the fire and then to her again, a bashful grin sloping across his face. The warmth that flooded her chest as she watched spilt out of her as a laugh. She lifted her hands to her mouth as if she could conceal it as the glow spread through her.

Ross broke the eye contact then, ruffling through his hair and rising to the window. It seemed to take him a second to register the lack of shirt. He realised as she was midway through dragging her eyes over his form. Looking at her first, he then looked down at himself, and panic flashed across his face. The pink ears had declared war and invaded the remainder of his body, charging down his neck and over that broad chest.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, grabbing at his discarded fleece, draped over the fireplace.

“You’re fine.” She smirked. He was more than fine, really.

Squinting as he returned to the window, with a false composure that prodded gently at Ivy’s heart.

“I don’t like the look of that weather.”

“What?” Ivy replied, shooting to his side.

“It’s—” His voice cracked as he looked down at her, stood there, inches from him. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“It’s still looking rough.” He drummed his fingers against the stone beside the window, leaning to fully assess their surroundings. “I don’t know if we’re getting home today.”

“No, no, no, no, no. We can’t be stuck here again,” Ivy whined, pressing into the window beside him as if she would find a different outcome.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand skimming down her spine to land on her lower back. Ivy lit up, her skin flaring at the touch, and he seemed to notice, jumping back. His voice was strained when he next spoke. “I’ll go call Tomas.”

Though she should still hear him, only feet away, trying to get through on the satellite phoned, the static building in her ears was drowning him out. Duncan was going to kill her. No one was going to hire her. And she really wanted Ross.

“Yeah, looks like we’re staying. Sorry.”

She pressed her eyes shut, distracted by his continued presence and even more distracted by the whirring of her brain as it tried to decide if she was delighted or horrified by it.

“It’s not like you control the weather,” she forced out, her whole body turning rigid.

“We’ll be fine. There’s still food. And I can check the electricity again.”

“It’s not—” She stepped out from under his gaze, trying to regain control of her train of thought. “It’s not that.”

It really wasn’t. For whatever reason, she did trust him to keep them alive.

“So…” He kept his hands to himself, leaning against the wall as unthreatening as could be, a mix of curiosity and worry painting his face.

“I have— things to do. I need to work. What are we supposed to do here?”

“We could get some work done for you if you wanted.”

“What?”

“I’ve got the camera. The weather might not be the best for your advertising, but we could definitely get some good shots.”

Ivy took a step back, facing him square on. He was still propped against the wall, no more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, barely lit by the overcast sky.

“It’s raining.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He smirked, standing straight now.

“You know what I mean,” she replied. “You’ll get soaked.”

“ We’ll get soaked.” He edged in closer to her.

“You only signed up to one day. I can’t?—”

“Ivy. I want to.”

“If you’d enjoy taking the photos, then?—”

“Not what I meant.”

She tapped her thumb against her ring finger, chewing the inside of her cheek. He was close enough to touch now.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Her voice dropped as his eyes flicked between her eyes and mouth.

“Not at all. I can help.”

She watched him suspiciously. The brightness to him, the lack of edge to his voice. She couldn’t tell if it was real, or her projecting. It had to be her projecting, though, he’d said as much last night. He wasn’t?—

“I’m sorry about… Well about last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you at the fire. And I should’ve explained myself after we?—”

Ah. He was trying to make it up to her.

“Say no more,” she replied, far too loudly and brightly, clapping her hands together.

He jumped backwards at the sound, his hand still hanging midair as she walked past him. She rolled her eyes at her own lack of cool and was sure she heard him groan behind her. Stopping in the middle of the room, she turned back to look at him.

“It’s fine, Ross. But getting some pictures would be great.”

He threw her a tight-lipped smile and they began to get ready.

* * *

“Okay,” Ivy moaned, dragging her hands across her eyes as she stared out the open door at the grey sky and drizzle. “I’m ready.”

She pulled her coat on over yesterday’s clothes, her fingers tugging in her knotted ponytail as she did. Unshowered, dirty clothes and no hairbrush. Exactly the professional vibe she needed to resurrect this day.

He nodded at her from the table as he sorted through the camera bag. His brown curls had been bruised by the night, and there was an inviting scruff creeping up his neck. Unshowered, in dirty clothes, and with no hairbrush, he looked gorgeous. What a prick.

“What’s the plan?” She asked as he joined her in the doorway

“I think we just go for a walk. There’ll be something to take a picture of.”

She could really do with more of a plan than that. Even a general direction. He had been here before, she was pretty sure, so if she asked, they’d get a little bit more structure. She could be spontaneous. Sometimes. Like, if she really had to be. In her personal life. But this was work.

“I—”

“Nope. We don’t need more of a plan than that,” he said lightly, setting his hands on her shoulders and ushering her out the door in front of him.

She fought down the grin that was about to betray her. She was annoyed. She wanted a plan. Right?

“I just think?—”

“Ivy it’s a mile long rock. We’ll cover everything you want and more.”

They were stuck here all day she supposed. So they could give it a try, just to indulge him. Fun, carefree Ross was certainly her preferred option, so maybe best not to poke the bear. Even if it meant bludgeoning the Ivy-at-work-Bear instead.

The weather was not pleasant, by any stretch of the imagination, but it definitely could have been worse. The island was being battered by the wind, but the rain was really more of a mist than a downpour and it wasn’t quite cold enough to shiver. They had scrambled up a rock face that Ivy was not convinced was structurally sound in the current gale, but when Ross had offered a hand to drag her up, how could she resist?

The storm was keeping a lot of wildlife away, but she was stunned by some of the landscape shots he had managed to capture so far, even having only seen the raw images while huddled together and holding a jacket over the camera screen to block the rain.

The vision was coming together. Tomas was great, the boat was great, Ross as a tour guide definitely worked, the promo material was looking good and the food from Mòr was delicious, even on an unexpected day two. Ivy could almost certainly sign off on the soft launch at the end of the month. This was amazing. Duncan would be thrilled. Genuinely, she was ecstatic. The problem though, was that she wasn’t quite sure what she was so ecstatic about.

The fizz under her skin and skipping in her chest was something she had felt when close to a new win at work, sure, but that explanation did little to account for the crescendo of those sensations when she watched Ross clambering around just feet away.

As much as she was intentionally watching him, she only fully realised how much she was staring when his camera clicked. Her eyes refocused to find it pointed squarely at her and his face just barely concealed by the thing. Her face flushed triggered by a mix of being caught looking and being photographed.

Ivy worked in marketing and publicity, frequently within the events space, so she was no stranger to having her photo taken. But usually, it was with her in full glam and in full control. Here, she was as far from that as she had ever been. She would get him to delete the photo. No one wanted to even contemplate ending up looking like this on one of these trips, so it would have to stay far, far away from Mhairi’s inbox when she began to draft the brochure.

“You’re supposed to be taking pictures of the island,” she called down to him at the bottom of the stack.

“And the wildlife,” he called back. He had been looking down at the screen, his face relaxed, but looked back at her when she spoke, eyebrows raised in a teasing dare.

She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Local wildlife only, please.”

A strange expression passed across his face for a second as he watched her, which bled into a faint smile before he replied.

“Some invasive species can be beneficial. I thought you were basically local these days anyway?” He had released the camera now, hung round his neck by the strap, but his fingers still grazed lightly across the top of it as he adopted an expectant stance.

Ivy took her cue and got to her feet, beginning to close the gap between them, ready to head off.

“Who told you that? Me, Edinburgh princess, a local? Shocking accusation Mr MacLeod.”

“My sister-in-law has always been a dreamer.”

“I like that about her,” Ivy said as she reached his side, gently grasping his wrist as he steadied her by the waist, igniting sparks through her core.

“She’s not used it against you yet, then.”

“What’s she blackmailing you into these days?” Her hand was still resting on his forearm even though, physically at least, she was well and truly steadied.

His gaze washed over her face for a second and then he squeezed her waist before dropping his hand. “This and that. Shall we get going?”

“Dare I ask if you know where to?”

“Where would be the fun in that. Come on then.”

He cleared the small jump back onto the grass easily, spinning around to wait for Ivy. When she landed beside him, they both fell into an easy rhythm and headed to the far side of the island.

Eventually he did share something approaching a plan. The southeast face of the island should be slightly more sheltered than where they had been so far. Whilst he was pleased with the wild waves he’d been able to capture, if they were going to find any animals with the time they had left, that was their best bet.

For all the women of the world fantasised about having a wild, carefree, bad boy, Ivy had to admit she did feel her body temperature rise once she knew he knew his way around a plan, even if he tried to hide it.

Crossing the small valley in the centre of Sandaigh, they managed to capture a few sheep on camera. Ross was unimpressed, insistent that he’d rather nothing than use sheep as a selling point, but Ivy insisted harder, so committed to film they were. Boring though they may be, they were a quintessential part of the island experience and flooded the Instagram tags to prove it, so Ivy was not above putting a bloody sheep on the brochure.

Over the forty-five minutes they found more than just the sheep to bicker about. How Ivy had laced her boots, whether he knew where they were going, if she needed to remember all the uninhabited islands’ names, why Ross had eaten the sandwich Ivy had had her eye on. Practiced as they were at fighting with each other, they had finally lost the hostile edge to it. Now they could argue and laugh in equal measure and Ivy could be easily led to believe she had known him for years, rather than the week it had actually been. Or day really, when she thought about it, trying to rein herself in, because whilst she hadn’t come up with an explanation for it yet, she was sure the Ross of the last week was barely Ross at all. And she was so close to meeting him completely.

They reached the small beach he had been aiming for to discover they were the only living creatures there.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, trailing a hand through his hair.

Ivy moved to speak, to say something offhand and empty and then carry on with their day. Then she saw him. She looked up at him, standing just behind her, staring at the sea. After a twenty-four-hour reprieve of flushed cheeks and heated eyes, the colour had drained from his face again. His brow was pinched and his lower lip hung slightly low. Part of her thought to think bit dramatic for just missing animals but a traitorous part of her, worryingly buried in the left side of her chest, stung and she found herself reaching out to brush his arm instead.

“It’s fine, seriously. The beach alone is more than enough.”

His mind seemed to be caught on something, because when he turned back to her his eyes lingered where they had been fixed, taking a few blinks to finally catch up.

“Worth a shot. Usually there’s seals.” Life was returning to him, finally.

“Pfft, who needs them? Very happy with my sheep.”

“Sheep are not?—”

“Ross.”

“Sorry. So, beach photos it is.” He lifted his camera and when he was only a few steps away, the heavens opened.

Not phased by the sudden change from drizzle to torrential downpour, Ross spun quickly on his feet and caught her hand as he ran.

“Cave!” He yelled over the wind as they barrelled across the beach.

“The tide!” She yelled back, uninterested in drowning for the sake of some rain.

“Hours away!” He seemed so relaxed as they ran, like he had left whatever worries had been plaguing them moments ago back in that spot and knew they couldn’t keep up. He had dropped her hand, but was definitely not reaching his full speed, only a few paces ahead of her, and checking over his shoulder regularly, not realising that those flashes of his smile floating above his flexed form were distracting enough to slow her down. Really, she’d have run after him anyway. Probably faster, if anything.

Christ, Ivy she thought, dragging a hand over her face as she ran, seeing he had made it into the cave fifteen metres ahead. That is not-

And then she fell. Full on, head over heels, sand in her mouth, fell.

She rolled up onto her knees, looked up and laughed as she was soaked. Ross ran out from his shelter then, reaching her in a few seconds. Stood in front of her, he reached down a hand, which she took grinning. She arrived upright, still secure in his grasp to find him beaming down at her. As his head bowed to her, the rain ran from the tips of his curls, now sodden and crushed to his head. The rain fought against her attempts to look up, tripping against her eyelashes inducing a veritable lash flutter as she blinked them away to keep him in her eye-line.

“How do you know the tide won’t come in?” She shouted over the storm.

“I looked it up.”

“Before we left the bothy? I thought you didn’t have a plan.”

“Before we left Harris.”

“Why?”

“It’s the best beach here, I knew you’d like to see it.”

“I— but you didn’t know we’d be here today. And it wasn’t on Mhairi and I’s itinerary for photos yesterday anyway.”

He shrugged. “I just hoped.”

“To get stranded an extra day?”

“To show it to you.”

Her words caught in her throat as he looked down at her.

“Why?” She whispered hoarsely.

“The beach at Tolsta that day. It reminded me of this place. You seemed happy.”

“I told you to fuck off,” she laughed.

“Before you saw me, then. When you were on the beach. In the water. You seemed…” He trailed off, his eyes falling to her lips.

“You said you weren’t watching.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. Ivy looked up at him, blinking the rain from her lashes.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he replied, dipping his face to hers.

Ivy’s pulse pounded in her ears as her lips waited. She could feel his breath brush against them, cruelly close, when thunder cracked them apart.

A barely audible growl sounded in his chest as heat poured over her from him. “We need to go.”

* * *

It barely took ten minutes to get back indoors and barely five more before Ross had the fire going again.

“Oh God, that feels so good,” Ivy moaned, holding her hands out to the warmth.

She closed her eyes and allowed her head to roll over her shoulders. As she stretched the damp clothing peeled up from her skin, then fell back again, causing her to shiver.

“Ugh, I need these wet clothes gone,” she whined to herself.

A flinch in her peripheral vision reminded her where she was, and she spun round to face him.

“I did not mean—” God, she just could not extricate her foot from her mouth around him. The awkward stiffness had crept back up his spine, but his face remained soft as he regarded her.

“I just don’t want to catch a cold,” she murmured half heartedly.

Her train of thought was derailed as his hand brushed the scoop neck of her top. His fingers skirted along the hem, one on each side, the lower gently grazing her collarbone as it passed.

She watched him, his face painted by shadow and firelight. The contrast caused the amber in his eyes to glow, and highlighted the flickering of his jaw, and bob of his Adam’s apple. Ivy remained still. Half fixed in shock, half afraid that if she moved the contact would be over.

Despite her intent gaze on his face, she was surprised when he spoke.

“You should go get changed.”

His eyes lifted to hers, and the bright flecks in them seemed to be emanating heat themselves now. Ivy tried to convince herself his hoarse voice was down to the smoky fire, and not… something else.

“I—” She cleared her own croaking throat. “I think the spare stuff is on the bed,” she answered pathetically, scolding herself in her head.

Ross’ hand still clung to the damp cotton but had fallen now to the lower edge. A fractional adjustment and he would be brushing her hip bone. Ivy hadn’t noticed his hand move, but she was suddenly aware of the scorching line down her side where he had skimmed her silhouette in his commitment to assessing her attire.

With the fire now fully alive, the thin layer of moisture that had clung to her skin was trying to escape, and Ivy was acutely aware of the fizz across her skin as it did. This time, it was her eyes that drifted. In an attempt to distract herself from her steaming thermals, she traced the hard lines his tight Lycra undershirt hinted at. He had his hands on hers, so how bad would it be if she was to just reach out? The fire crackled and popped between them, billowed about by the wind howling down the tin chimney. Despite the island’s backing track, all she could hear was his breathing, in full stereo. So loudly, that she lost track of her own, not even convinced she was able to inhale with her heart lodged so high in her throat.

Ivy looked up to see him watching her intently. Her brow knitted up at him as she held his gaze.

“You’ll get a cold.”

“Probably.”

Ivy faltered, her eyes dropping to his lips, and when she fought her way back to his gaze, she knew he’d noticed, the look on his face wild. That look transformed into curiosity as his thumb crept up to trace along her lower lip, drawing a gasp from Ivy. The sound was reciprocated with a groan as he leant in, brushing his lips over hers.

For a moment Ivy was still, as Ross rocked his face forward, breaking the seal of their mouths just a millimetre, to press his forehead into hers. She felt his brow furrow as his breath still tickled her lips. The drumming in her ears intensified, each ragged breath heaving her shoulders closer to him. Her peripheral vision darkened, and all she could see was his lips and throat highlighted by the fire. As the pounding reached a crescendo, she nodded into him and lips crashed into hers.

Ivy met him with equal fervour, her hands snaking up from his chest, fisting into his hair and locking his head against hers. One large hand fell into the angle between her shoulder and neck, his thumb tapping against her throat as his index finger dusted her earlobe. His other hand gripped her waist, using the anchor to press her backward.

The momentum continued even after her back hit the cool wall, driving his hips and chest into hers. Ivy’s head rolled back into the stone and his hand pressed into the wall beside it. Her thigh hitched to his side, and was received by his broad palm, sliding upward to hug her hips. As her neck stretched up, Ross dipped his mouth to trail a tongue along her pulse point, and she could feel the smirk in response to the strangled moan she released as he swept along her.

Her hands dipped to the small of his back, tracing under his waistband, searching for the hem of his shirt. As she peeled the wet Lycra from his hot skin, he found her mouth again. Her whimpered response granted his tongue an opening. She broke the contact in order to pull him completely free of the shirt, planning to reclaim him as soon as possible. Unfortunately, in the manoeuvre, she caught sight of his now exposed torso causing his lips to land on her temple, not her mouth, as she bowed her head in reverence. Ivy’s mind spun as she pressed her hands into the dusting of golden hair across his broad chest, dropping a kiss onto his shoulder as he pushed a thigh between her legs.

Fisting his hand into the hair at the base of her skull, the last Kirby grip standing in her weathered bun finally gave up, allowing hair to tumble over her shoulders.

A groan of approval was accompanied by a hand dropping to her waist, and then further again. Ivy placed her hands on his jaw and pulled his mouth back to hers. Her hands tangled in his hair as she tried to feel every part of this. As he kissed her deeply, she nipped lightly at his lower lip, eliciting a deep sigh and felt herself smile wickedly into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed, sliding his hands down her body and underneath her. Following his lead, she allowed him to pick her up, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. He pressed her into the stone wall, flooding her lower abdomen with heat, before turning around and walking her towards the table, their lips unbroken.

As they walked, the jostling against her awoken groin made her suddenly aware of his own response. He strained against her, and she felt every hair on her body stand to attention. She prayed he could feel the need in her kiss.

Now sat on top of the ancient wooden table, him still between her legs, she trailed her nails down his neck before he indulged himself by pulling open her trousers around her hips. His hand lingered at the line of her underwear, and he pulled his head back, looking into her eyes for permission to continue.

“Please” she whimpered, enjoying the flash of lust in his eyes before he returned to his task.

His hand dipped under the cotton, slow pace deliciously contrasting with the hungry rhythm of his mouth on hers. She brushed her lips against his chest, hoping her ragged breathing was on the right side of wild. Finally, his fingers found her clit and began to circle. She moved for his waistband, wanting to confirm he was as needy as she was. But without stopping his hands, he broke their kiss to look at her, grinning thirstily, before dropping to his knees.

Ivy’s fingers curled around the edge of the tabletop, and he trailed his tongue up her inner thigh. She fought the urge to pull him into her, choosing instead to luxuriate in the waiting.

With two fingers now inside her, his mouth finally found its place and she thought she might burst then and there.

She could feel his smile down there as she moaned for him, her hands in his hair, and her head tilted back, hazy eyes cast skyward as if heaven wasn’t between her legs.

“Fuck, Ross, I’m—” she gasped as she got close.

He kept the rhythm steady, urging her to completion with long, firm strokes.

She knew he could feel her begin to contract as he ground against her, the tension clear in his shoulders as she came undone.

As her breathing settled, he stood up and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

“Oh my God” he murmured into her mouth, and she laughed in spite of herself.

“So, table over bed even though both are in the same room. Is that a thing I should be keeping an eye on?”

It was his turn to laugh now. That warm, full-bodied laugh that reached deep inside Ivy and made itself at home.

“I didn’t want to assume?”

“Assume what?”

“Well, there’s only one bed.”

“I remember.”

“Me too.” He looked down at her with a lopsided grin that she couldn’t help but reflect back as he absentmindedly stroked his thumb across her cheekbone. He brushed a gentle kiss over her lips and a giggle escaped her.

“I think the bed’s probably fine, Ross,” she said, her thumb strumming over the soft skin beneath his ear.

Following the encouragement of her hand on his neck, he dropped his mouth to hers. Gone now was the tenderness, and the movement of his lips and tongue became hungrier.

As she reciprocated, they staggered their way to the bed, remaining clothes flung off along their course.

They collapsed onto the relic of a mattress naked, and Ivy took in the view of his matching state of undress as he lowered himself onto her. Half her brain considered asking him to stop and just stand there a moment, so she could take it all in. Though absorbing the sheer size of him, she briefly wondered if she actually could take it all in . The other half thankfully won, keeping her mouth shut, metaphorically at least, and she felt his weight press into her. Both their bodies still slightly cool, and damp, exposed to the glowing fire to their side. Heat crawled along the microscopic gap left between them as Ivy pulled him against her.

One solid thigh rested between her legs as he continued to kiss her, teasing her slick core as they moved together. She clung to him, hands dancing all over his body. Even with her short, island-work-friendly nails, she was sure she’d leave a mark. The thought of him walking out tomorrow with a record of her on him sent shocks down her abdomen. When she could think straight again, she would process that new turn-on. But thinking straight right now was not an option. His hand scooped beneath the small of her back, turning them both and edging up the bed, so that she was practically sitting on his lap. In this position, they were at eye level for once, a fact neither of them missed as their feasting took a brief pause to take each other in.

Fuck, he was so hot. The moment was beautiful, and Ivy wished she had the capacity for poetry right now. The ability to vocalise every earth shattering, terrifying thought springing up within her. But right now, her vagina was driving, a distracting throb taking control over her faculties and God. He. Was. So. Hot.

“You are perfect,” he urged trailing his thumb down the centre of her throat and brushing it over her nipple.

Trying to remain alive, Ivy caught his mouth with hers again, rolling her hips in his lap making sure her readiness wasn’t missed by anyone.

“Fuck, wait,” he groaned, and, registering the flash of panic in her eyes, quickly followed with a strangled, “Condom.”

She was equal parts turned on and frustrated by his commitment to safe sex, as he rolled from under her and got up from the bed. Normally, Ivy would be on board, but current touch-drunk Ivy wanted to scream. Why the fuck would either of them have?—

He reappeared over her, condom in hand and pressed a kiss against her as he crawled up the bed, until they were both kneeling together. She plucked the prophylactic from his hand, holding it aloft as he clutched at her waist, their cores cemented together.

“You brought condoms on a four-hour boat trip?”

“I had a condom in my bag on a four-hour boat trip. I didn’t bring condoms.” She could sense the air quotes he just did even without looking.

“You just happened?—”

“Ivy.”

He nipped at her ear lobe, sliding his hand up her arm until he was able to retrieve the condom from above their heads.

Barely breaking the kiss, he had donned it then manoeuvred them back into their last position. She straddled him as his hands trailed lazily down her thighs and he began nudging at her entrance.

Her visual estimation earlier had done nothing close to justice here. As she sunk down onto him, feeling every millimetre as it filled her, he tore his mouth away, pressing it instead to her shoulder, and biting down, the new sensation overwhelming every deliciously confused pain receptor in her body.

She pulled his face back to hers and felt a new wave of want pour over them as he expertly matched the rhythm of her hips with his mouth.

“Open your eyes,” he hummed, sweeping his hands up her forearms and threading his fingers between her own that caressed his cheeks.

As she followed the order, he maintained eye contact. Taking one of her hands from his face and placing a kiss against her fingertips. Entranced, Ivy watched as he next slipped two of the fingers just past his lips, registering the now familiar swirl of his tongue as it passed over them.

Still fixing her in his gaze, he released the fingers from his mouth but kept her hand securely in his. He drove it south, placing it between their bodies, silently urging her to keep up the steady rhythm of her hips, her clit brushing against their hands as she did.

As a whimper fell out of her, he laughed, removing his hand to cup her face. She dropped her forehead onto his, her eyes screwed shut.

“You’ve got to help me out here Ivy.” He smiled. “I can’t wait, so we both need to get you there too.” When she opened her eyes, peeling her forehead from his, she was met with a genuine grin, stretched between flushed cheeks.

She nodded, and he dragged his smile up to her mouth, moulding her lips into its mirror image as he did.

Continuing to trace circles into herself, she felt the pressure become unbearable as he ground into her, murmuring encouragement into her mouth.

Somehow, despite the warning of his impending finish, she came first. As she clenched around him, he took his cue and followed suit. Collapsing together, Ivy properly understood the post-orgasm glow for the first time. She could feel the warmth emanating from their entanglement of limbs, and as she looked up at him, the beam she found returned to her was nothing short of radiant.