Chapter 13
The compound was chaos when they returned.
Brothers moving with purpose, voices raised in strategy and damage assessment, the controlled fury of men whose territory had been attacked.
Ivy caught glimpses of familiar faces—Timber coordinating, Grit reporting, prospects running messages between buildings—but she didn't stop to process any of it.
Mae.
She needed to see Mae.
Beth met her at the door to the residential wing, one hand raised in reassurance before Ivy could even ask the question.
"She's fine. Slept through everything—Diana stayed with her the whole time. They're watching a movie in my room now."
The relief hit Ivy so hard her knees nearly buckled. "Thank God."
"Go see her. Then—" Beth's eyes moved to Splinter, who stood behind Ivy with blood on his knuckles and violence still coiled in his posture. "Then take care of each other. It's been a hard morning."
Ivy found Mae curled on Beth's couch, completely absorbed in whatever animated feature was playing on the small television. Diana sat beside her, both girls surrounded by stuffed animals and the remains of what looked like emergency chocolate.
"Mama!" Mae launched herself off the couch and into Ivy's arms. "You smell like smoke. Were there s'mores?"
A laugh that was half sob escaped Ivy's throat. "Something like that, baby. Something like that."
She held her daughter for a long moment, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the solid warmth of her small body. Safe. Whole. Completely unaware that men had died this morning to keep her that way.
"Can I finish the movie? Diana says the good part's coming."
"Of course. I'll be in my room if you need me, okay?"
"Okay!" Mae was already wriggling down, her attention recaptured by the screen.
Ivy straightened to find Splinter watching from the doorway.
His eyes were dark, intense, tracking her with the focused attention of a man running on adrenaline and something rawer underneath.
Blood still streaked his knuckles. A bruise was forming along his jaw.
He looked dangerous and desperate and barely contained.
"She's okay," Ivy said.
"I know." His voice was rough, scraped. "Are you?"
She didn't answer. Just walked toward him, took his hand—the one with blood drying in the creases of his knuckles—and led him down the hall to her room.
The door barely closed before she was on him.
Ivy didn't know who moved first. Maybe both of them at once, collision inevitable, two bodies drawn together by gravity and need and the desperate relief of being alive.
His back hit the door and her mouth found his, and the kiss was nothing like their first time—no tenderness, no careful exploration.
This was hunger.
This was survival.
This was the combat high with nowhere to go but into each other.
Splinter's hands fisted in her shirt, yanking it over her head so roughly she heard a seam tear. She didn't care. She was too busy clawing at his cut, shoving it off his shoulders, dragging his shirt up his torso to get at the skin beneath.
"Need you," she gasped against his mouth. "Need to feel you—need to know you're real—"
"I'm real." He spun them, slamming her back against the door hard enough to rattle it in the frame. His thigh shoved between her legs, and she ground down against it shamelessly, desperate for friction. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Prove it."
His eyes went dark. Almost black.
He dropped to his knees.
Ivy's breath caught as he yanked her jeans open, dragging them down her legs along with her underwear in one brutal motion. She barely had time to step out of them before his hands gripped her thighs and his mouth was on her.
"Oh fuck—"
His tongue swept through her folds, licking a hot stripe from her entrance to her clit. She was already wet—had been wet since he'd walked through that door with violence still visible in every line of his body—and her arousal coated his lips as he devoured her.
"Taste so good." He groaned against her flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves through her core. "Could eat this pussy for hours."
"Arlo—God—"
He sucked her clit into his mouth, tongue flicking rapidly against the swollen bud while two fingers thrust inside her without warning. Ivy's head slammed back against the door, her hands fisting in his hair, holding him in place as he fucked her with his fingers and his mouth.
"That's it." He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against her slick flesh. "Ride my face. Take what you need."
She did.
Her hips rolled against him, grinding her cunt against his mouth while his fingers curled inside her, finding the spot that made her vision blur.
He added a third finger, stretching her, preparing her, and the fullness combined with the relentless pressure on her clit sent her hurtling toward the edge.
"I'm gonna—Arlo, I'm—"
"Come." He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked hard. "Come on my tongue."
She shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her with enough force to buckle her knees.
She would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding her up, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises.
He worked her through it, lapping at her spasming flesh, drinking down every drop of her release until she was shaking and overstimulated and pushing at his head.
"Too much—can't—"
He pulled back, looking up at her with a face glistening with her arousal and eyes blazing with need.
"Not done with you yet."
He rose to his feet and lifted her like she weighed nothing.
Ivy wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the rough denim of his jeans against her bare ass, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her sensitive core.
He carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress, and before she could catch her breath he was stripping off his remaining clothes.
His cock sprang free, thick and hard and flushed dark with need. A bead of precum glistened at the tip, and Ivy's mouth watered at the sight.
"I want to taste you."
"Next time." He crawled over her, notching himself at her entrance. "Right now I need to be inside you so bad it fucking hurts."
"Then stop talking and fuck me."
He thrust home in one brutal stroke.
Ivy screamed.
Not from pain—from the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely, so suddenly, that every nerve ending in her body lit up at once.
He was big enough that it took her breath away, stretching her almost to the point of discomfort, and the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside her was the most exquisite thing she'd ever experienced.
"Fuck." He held himself still, every muscle trembling. "So tight. So fucking tight and wet and perfect."
"Move." She dug her heels into his ass, urging him deeper. "I need you to move."
He moved.
There was nothing gentle about the way he fucked her.
He pulled back until only the head of his cock remained inside her, then slammed forward with enough force to shove her up the bed. Again. And again. A punishing rhythm that drove the breath from her lungs and the thoughts from her head.
"This is mine." He punctuated the words with a brutal thrust that made her see stars. "This pussy is mine. Say it."
"Yours—" She could barely form words, could barely think past the pleasure threatening to overwhelm her. "All yours—"
"Damn right it is."
He shifted angles, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder, and the new position let him sink impossibly deeper. She could feel him in her throat, could feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against her sensitive walls.
"Look at you." His voice was ragged, almost reverent. "Taking my cock like you were made for it. So fucking beautiful when you're stuffed full of me."
"Arlo—please—"
"Please what?" He slowed his thrusts to a torturous grind, circling his hips to hit every spot inside her. "Tell me what you need."
"Make me come." She was beyond shame, beyond pride, reduced to nothing but sensation and need. "Please, I need to come—"
"Since you asked so nicely."
His hand slid between them, thumb finding her clit and pressing hard. At the same time, he resumed his brutal pace, his cock hammering into her while his thumb worked her swollen bud in tight circles.
The dual assault was too much.
Ivy came with a scream that probably echoed through half the compound, her entire body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her cunt clamped down on his cock like a vice, spasming around him, and she felt him curse and lose his rhythm.
"Fuck—Ivy—gonna—"
"Inside me." She locked her legs around him, holding him deep. "Come inside me. Fill me up."
He buried himself to the root and came with a roar.
She felt him pulse inside her—one, two, three, four hot spurts of release that flooded her cunt and mixed with her own arousal. He kept grinding against her, working his cock through his orgasm, until finally he collapsed on top of her with a groan.
They lay tangled together, both of them panting, his softening cock still buried inside her.
Ivy could feel his cum starting to leak out around him, dripping down onto the sheets below. The sensation was obscene and possessive and exactly what she needed—physical proof that he was hers, that he'd claimed her in the most primal way possible.
"That was..." She didn't have words.
"Yeah." He lifted his head, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her sweat-dampened forehead. "It was."
He pulled out slowly, and she shivered at the sudden emptiness. More of his release spilled from her, and she watched his eyes track the flow with a dark satisfaction that made her stomach flip.
"Like seeing that." His voice was low, rough. "My cum dripping out of you. Proof that you're mine."
"Possessive."
"Damn right."
He collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest so her head rested over his heartbeat. It was still racing, still coming down from the high.
"I heard the shots," she whispered after a long moment. "At the diner. I heard the fighting, and I wanted to help, but Mae—I couldn't leave her—"
"You did exactly right." His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. "Protecting her was the job. You did the job."
"You came back to me."
"Told you I would." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'll always come back to you."
"The diner—"
"Can rebuild. Equipment can be replaced." He shifted so he could look at her, his expression softening into something that made her chest ache. "None of it matters—none of it—like you and Mae. Like knowing I have something to come home to."
"You have us." She traced the line of his jaw, feeling stubble rasp against her fingertips. "Always."
"I know." He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. "Still getting used to that. Having people. Belonging somewhere."
"Well, get used to it faster." She smiled against his chest. "Because we're not going anywhere."
"Neither am I." His voice dropped to something fierce and tender all at once. "Never. Not ever. You're stuck with me, Ivy."
"Promise?"
"I swear it on everything I am."
She did believe him.
Not because the words were pretty, or because she wanted them to be true, or because hope was easier than cynicism.
She believed him because he'd never lied to her yet.
And in a world full of men who promised everything and delivered nothing, that was worth more than all the flowery declarations in the world.
"Get some sleep," she murmured. "Messer's still out there. We're going to need our strength."
"In a minute." His hand traced slow circles on her back, dipping lower to cup her ass, still slick with their combined release. "Let me have this first. Just... this."
She gave him this.
And for a few precious hours, while Mae watched movies and brothers cleaned up the aftermath of war, Ivy let herself believe that everything might actually be okay.