Chapter 9 - Phoenix
She wants this.
Fuck.
And I want it too, want her with an intensity that should terrify me but instead feels like the only thing that makes sense in a world gone mad.
I know I should be the one stopping this. I'm older, more experienced, the one with power in this dynamic. I should be smart, responsible, put distance between us until the war is over and she's had time to heal from what Cole did to her.
I should do a lot of things.
But I'm not going to.
Fuck it. If there's a chance I might die in the next few days or weeks, might as well take this chance. Might as well enjoy our time together, have something good and real and honest before everything goes to hell.
My father used to tell me something, back when I was younger and still believed the Vipers could be saved.
He'd say that having a woman next to him didn't make him weaker, it made him stronger.
That having someone to protect, a wife and eventually kids, made him go beyond his limits.
Made him fight harder, push further, become more than he thought possible.
I didn't understand it then. Thought it was just romantic bullshit, the kind of thing people say to justify settling down.
But standing here with Ivy, feeling the way my entire body responds to her, the way my mind sharpens with the need to protect her, maybe I'm starting to understand. Maybe having Ivy will do the same for me. Will make me stronger, more focused, unkillable.
Or maybe that's just what I'm telling myself to justify doing what I want instead of what's right.
Either way, I'm done fighting it.
I place my hand on her face, thumb brushing across her cheek, and she tilts her head back. The gesture exposes the long line of her throat, and I can't resist.
I press my lips against her neck, kissing a path down to where her pulse flutters wildly. She gasps, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
I kiss lower, along her collarbone, down to where her breasts curve beneath her shirt. I can see them clearly now. Soft and full, jiggling slightly each time she moves or breathes. I want to grip them, suck them, mark them as mine.
But not before asking.
Cole took from her without asking. Treated her body like his property, like her consent didn't matter. I won't do that. Won't ever do that.
I pull back slightly, looking into her green eyes. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." No hesitation. Her voice is breathless but sure.
"Because if we do this," I continue, needing her to understand, "I'm going to make sure you never forget this moment. I'm going to worship every inch of you, and make you feel things you've never felt before. I need you to be absolutely sure this is what you want."
"I want this moment to eclipse everything I went through. Want something good to remember instead of just pain and fear. Can you do that?"
Can I give her something so good it overwrites years of abuse? Can I make her feel cherished instead of used, wanted instead of tolerated?
I'll damn well try.
"I'll do my best," I promise.
I guide her toward the bed, laying her down gently. She watches me with those wide green eyes as I climb over her, caging her in with my arms.
"Tell me if anything feels wrong," I say. "If you want me to stop, if something hurts, if you need a break. This is about you, Ivy. Your pleasure. Your comfort. Understood?"
She nods. "Understood."
I reach for the hem of her shirt, pausing to give her one last chance to change her mind. When she doesn't protest, I pull it up and over her head.
Fuck.
Her breasts are incredible. Full and soft, pale skin dusted with freckles, nipples already hard from arousal. The sight of her laid out beneath me, chest heaving with each breath, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I don't waste a second.
I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth while my hand comes up to grip her other breast. She arches her back, a moan escaping her lips as I suck and tease, my tongue circling the stiff peak.
Her hands fist in the sheets, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
She looks like a sinful goddess sent specifically to make me sin.
And I will. I'll sin tonight. I'll fuck her and make her cum, make her forget about everything bad in the world. It's the least I can do to show her how much I want to care for her, protect her, cherish her.
I switch breasts, giving the other the same attention. My saliva coats her skin, dripping down the curves as I worship her with my mouth. She's making the most incredible sounds: little gasps and moans that tell me I'm doing something right.
"Phoenix," she breathes, and hearing my name like that, desperate and needy, nearly undoes me.
I kiss a path down her soft stomach, loving every curve. Cole was a fucking idiot for not appreciating her body, for making her feel like anything less than perfect.
She's soft where I'm hard, smooth where I'm scarred. Complementary opposites that fit together in a way that feels inevitable.
When I reach her jeans, I look up at her. Her chest is flushed, rising and falling rapidly, and her eyes are squinted with desire.
"Please," she says. "Please continue. Just… Don't be afraid of what you'll see."
The words are strange. Uncertain. Like she's expecting me to recoil from something.
"What do you mean?" I ask, my hands on the button of her jeans.
"You'll see."
Curious now, I unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs. The fabric catches slightly on her curves, and I take my time, revealing inch after inch of pale skin.
When I finally get them off and look at her, I understand what she meant.
Fuck.
She's soaked. Beyond soaked. Her light blue panties are so wet they've become see-through, clinging to every curve of her pussy. I can even see the outline of her lips. Her inner thighs are wet too, glistening with arousal.
I've never seen anything like it.
And I fucking love it.
She's this wet for me? This turned on just from kissing and touching? This is a dream, not a problem.
"What's wrong?" I ask, because her expression has gone uncertain. Embarrassed.
"Cole hated it," she confesses quietly. "Said I was always too wet. That it was gross. He'd complain about it constantly and made me feel like there was something wrong with me."
I’m fucking pissed. Cole complained about this? About Ivy being aroused, about her body responding naturally to pleasure?
What kind of fucking idiot complains about a woman being wet for him?
"Listen to me," I say, my voice hard with conviction. "This will never be a problem. Never. This is a luxury. A gift. The fact that you're this turned on, that your body responds like this… It's fucking perfect. Don't ever let anyone make you feel bad about it again."
Before she can respond, before the insecurity can take root, I act. I hook my fingers in her panties and pull them off, exposing her completely.
Then I dive in.
The first taste of her nearly stops my heart. She's sweet and musky and so fucking wet I could drown in it. I lick a long stripe up her slit, collecting her arousal on my tongue, and she cries out above me.
"Phoenix!"
I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open as I eat her out like a man starving. My tongue circles her clit, then dips lower to thrust inside her. She's clenching around me, her whole body trembling.
Her hands fly to my head, fingers tangling in my short hair, and I love it. Love feeling her lose control, love knowing I'm the one making her feel this way.
I focus on her clit, sucking it gently while sliding two fingers inside her. She's so wet they glide in easily, and I curve them upward, searching for that spot that will make her reach climax.
When I find it, she nearly comes off the bed.
"Oh god, oh fuck, Phoenix—"
I love hearing her curse. Love that she's letting herself be loud, be messy, be completely uninhibited. This is what sex should be: raw and overwhelming in the best way.
I work her relentlessly, tongue and fingers coordinating to push her higher and higher. Her thighs are trembling on either side of my head, her breathing coming in short gasps.
"I'm—I'm going to—" She can't finish the sentence.
"Come for me," I command against her pussy. "Let go, Ivy. I've got you."
She's crying out my name, her hands fisting in my hair hard enough to hurt, her pussy clenching around my fingers. I work her through it, gentling my movements as the waves subside, licking her clean as she comes down.
When she finally goes limp, I press a kiss to her inner thigh and look up.
She's gorgeous like this. Hair mussed, skin flushed, eyes glazed with satisfaction. Her chest is still heaving, breasts rising and falling, and there's a small smile on her lips.
"I've never—" She starts, then stops.
"Never what?"
"Never come like that before." The admission is soft, almost shy. "Cole never… He didn't do that. Didn't care if I enjoyed it."
The rage returns, colder this time. Cole never made her come? Never bothered to give her pleasure?
"He was a selfish piece of shit," I say bluntly. "And I'm going to spend the rest of the night proving to you what you should have had all along."
Her eyes widen. "The rest of the night?"
"You think I'm done with you?" I crawl back up her body, settling between her legs. "Sweetheart, we're just getting started."
I capture her mouth in a kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She moans into it, her arms wrapping around my neck. When I pull back, I'm painfully hard, my cock straining against my jeans. Ivy notices, her hand trailing down to palm me through the fabric.
"Your turn," she says, and there's determination in her voice.
"You don't have to…"
"I want to." She's already working my belt, nimble fingers unbuckling it with surprising speed. "Let me, Phoenix. Let me make you feel good too."
How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that?
I help her by kicking off my boots, and when she gets my jeans unbuttoned, I lift my hips so she can slide them down along with my boxer briefs.
My cock springs free, and Ivy's eyes go wide.
"You're—" She stops, licks her lips. "You're big."
Pride surges through me, primal and male. "Will that be a problem?"
"No." She reaches out, wrapping her hand around my shaft, and I have to fight not to come right there like a fucking teenager. "I want all of it."
Jesus Christ.
She strokes me slowly, her hand small around my girth, and it's the best thing I've felt in years. Maybe ever. Her touch is curious, exploratory, like she's learning what I like.
"Tell me what feels good," she says.
"Everything." My voice is strained. "Anything you do feels incredible."
She experiments, varying her grip and speed, watching my face for reactions. When she thumbs the head, collecting the precum beading there, I groan.
"Like that?"
"Fuck yes, like that."
She does it again, then leans down.
I realize what she's about to do a second before she does it. Her mouth closes around the head of my cock, hot and wet, and I nearly lose my mind.
"Ivy… Fuck, you don't have to—"
But she's already taking me deeper, her tongue swirling around my shaft, and coherent thought becomes impossible. She bobs her head, taking as much of me as she can, her hand working what won't fit. It's messy and enthusiastic and absolutely fucking perfect.
I thread my fingers through her short hair, gentle, not controlling. Just touching, grounding myself.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that. You're doing so fucking good."
The praise seems to spur her on. She hollows her cheeks, sucking harder, and I have to grip the sheets to keep from thrusting up into her mouth. But I don't want to come like this. Don't want to finish in her mouth when there's so much more I want to do to her.
"Ivy, stop. I want... I need to be inside you."
She pulls off with a loud pop, her lips swollen and wet. "Yes. Please."