Chapter 14 #3
He showed her.
He fucked her with long, deep strokes that made the bed creak, then shifted to short, sharp thrusts that had her crying out with every impact. He pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach, then slid back inside from behind, the new angle letting him sink impossibly deeper.
"Oh fuck—" Ivy fisted the sheets as he drove into her. "Right there—don't stop—"
He grabbed her hips and gave her what she needed—hard, fast strokes that sent the headboard slamming against the wall. She buried her face in the pillow to muffle her screams as another orgasm crashed through her.
"Two," he growled, not slowing down. "Give me one more."
"I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." He reached around to find her clit, rubbing in tight circles while his cock continued to pound into her. "One more, Ivy. Come for me one more time."
She screamed into the pillow as she shattered again, her cunt clamping down on him so hard that he lost all control. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a roar, spilling inside her in hot pulses that seemed to go on forever.
They collapsed together, both of them panting, sticky with sweat.
He pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from her swollen cunt, and felt a surge of primal satisfaction. Mine. She was his, marked inside and out, and no one would ever touch her the way he did.
"That was..." Ivy rolled onto her back, still catching her breath. "That was..."
"Lazy morning sex?" he offered.
"That was not lazy." She laughed, swatting at his chest. "That was athletic. That was Olympic-level."
"You said you wanted slow. I started slow."
"You started slow. Then you rearranged my internal organs."
"Complaints?"
"Absolutely none." She curled against his side, her head finding its usual spot on his chest. "That was perfect. Everything about this morning has been perfect."
He stroked her hair, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket.
This was what he'd never had—the easy intimacy of waking up together, making breakfast together, falling back into bed together because they could.
Because they wanted to. Because they had a future stretching out before them filled with mornings exactly like this one.
"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured. "About Mae. About staying."
"I know you did."
"I'm not going anywhere, Ivy. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever." He tilted her chin up so she could see the truth in his eyes. "You're stuck with me. Both of you."
"Good." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "Because I'm not going anywhere either."
"Then we're doing this. Building something. Together."
"Together."
She smiled against his skin, and he held her tighter, and for a few precious hours they let the world outside this room fade away.
There would be battles to fight. Messer was still out there, still dangerous, still coming for everything they'd built. But right now, in this moment, none of that mattered.
Right now, there was just this.
Just them.
Just the beginning of forever.
When they finally emerged, Mae was waiting in the hallway with a friendship bracelet in each hand.
"Diana's mom helped us make these!" She thrust them toward Splinter and Ivy with the imperious generosity of a five-year-old bearing gifts. "This one's for Mama and this one's for Daddy. They match because you match."
Splinter felt his heart crack open.
Daddy.
She'd never called him that before. Not directly, not like it was his name. But here she was, tiny hands extended, offering him a bracelet made of cheap string and plastic beads like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
Because it was.
"Thank you, little one." His voice came out rough. He crouched to her level and let her tie the bracelet around his wrist, her small fingers clumsy but determined. "It's perfect."
"I know." Mae beamed. "I picked the colors myself. Blue for you because you're quiet like water, and purple for Mama because she's pretty like flowers."
"That's very thoughtful."
"Diana helped." Mae looked between them with sudden suspicion. "Why do you both look all messy? Were you taking naps?"
Ivy choked on a laugh. "Something like that, baby."
"Naps are for babies." Mae shook her head with the worldly wisdom of someone who'd recently turned five. "You're adults. You should be doing adult things."
"We were definitely doing adult things," Splinter muttered, and Ivy kicked him.
"How about lunch?" Ivy said brightly. "I think I saw someone making sandwiches in the kitchen."
"Sandwiches!" Mae was off like a shot, the mysteries of adult behavior immediately forgotten.
Splinter stood, looking at the bracelet on his wrist. Cheap string. Plastic beads. The most valuable thing anyone had ever given him.
"She called me Daddy," he said quietly.
"She did." Ivy laced her fingers through his. "How do you feel about that?"
He thought about it—really thought, letting the word settle into his bones.
"Like I finally have something worth keeping," he said.
Ivy smiled, and squeezed his hand, and they walked toward the kitchen together.
A family.
Finally.