Chapter 22 #2
He spread her open with his thumbs and groaned at what he found. She was soaked—arousal glistening on her folds, her clit swollen and pink and begging for attention.
"So fucking wet." He leaned in and licked a slow stripe through her folds, savoring her taste. "All this because I claimed you?"
"All this—ah—because I'm yours—"
"Damn right you are."
He buried his face in her cunt.
He ate her like a man possessed, like she was the last meal he'd ever have.
His tongue fucked into her entrance, then swept up to circle her clit, then repeated the journey again and again until she was writhing beneath him.
He slid two fingers inside her, then three, stretching her while his mouth worked her clit with relentless pressure.
"Arlo—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can take it." He curled his fingers, finding the spot that made her scream. "You can take everything I give you. That's what being mine means."
She came with a cry that echoed off the walls, her cunt clamping down on his fingers in rhythmic waves. He worked her through it, gentling his touch as she came down, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs.
"That's one." He crawled up her body, settling his hips between her thighs. "I'm thinking at least three more tonight. It's our wedding night, after all."
"Three—?" Her eyes went wide. "Arlo—"
"Trust me." He notched himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick heat. "I've got you."
He pushed inside.
The stretch of him filling her made Ivy's eyes roll back.
He was thick and hard and perfect, spreading her open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. She could feel him everywhere—in her cunt, in her chest, in her soul.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She opened her eyes.
"This is where I belong." He pulled back slowly, then thrust home with a force that made her gasp. "Inside you. With you. For the rest of my life."
"Then fuck me like it." She grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper. "Fuck your wife like she belongs to you."
Something savage flashed in his eyes.
He pinned her hands above her head and began to move—hard, deep strokes that drove the breath from her lungs. The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, a rhythm that announced to anyone listening exactly what was happening in this room.
"Mine," he growled, punctuating the word with a brutal thrust. "My wife. My old lady. My everything."
"Yours—" She wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the angle. "All yours—"
He released her hands and grabbed her hips, lifting her ass off the bed so he could drive into her at a new angle. The head of his cock dragged against her g-spot with every stroke, and she could feel another orgasm building—bigger than the last, threatening to tear her apart.
"You're going to come again," he said, reading her body with the ease of a man who'd memorized every inch of her. "I can feel you getting tighter. Feel your cunt trying to milk my cock."
"Don't stop—please—"
"Never stopping." His thumb found her clit, pressing hard. "Come for me, wife. Come all over your husband's cock."
She shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a freight train, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending until she couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. Her cunt spasmed around him, squeezing his cock in rhythmic waves, and she heard him curse through the roaring in her ears.
"Fuck—so tight—" His rhythm stuttered, his hips snapping against hers with desperate urgency. "Gonna fill you up—gonna come so deep—"
"Do it." She pulled him down for a kiss. "Fill me, Arlo. Make me yours."
He buried himself to the hilt and came with a roar.
She felt him pulsing inside her—hot spurts of cum flooding her cunt, marking her from the inside out. He ground against her, working his cock through his orgasm, and the pressure against her oversensitive clit triggered a third orgasm that left her seeing stars.
They lay tangled together, both of them panting, his softening cock still inside her.
"Two more to go," he mumbled against her hair.
"You're going to kill me."
"What a way to go."
She laughed—genuinely laughed—and felt him smile against her skin. His hand traced lazy patterns on her hip, occasionally dipping between her thighs where they were still joined.
"I love you," she said.
"Love you too." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Mrs. Halcomb."
"That's not technically my name."
"It should be." He shifted, pulling out slowly, and she shivered at the sensation of his cum dripping out of her. "When this is done—the claiming, the legal stuff—I want you to have my name. You and Mae both."
"Mae would like that." She curled against his side, her head on his chest. "She's been practicing writing 'Mae Halcomb' in her notebook."
"She has?"
"For weeks. She's very committed to the cause."
He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was thick.
"I've built things my whole life. Furniture.
Houses. Things that lasted, that mattered, that I could point to and say I made that.
" He paused, throat working. "But I never had anything to keep.
Everything I built belonged to someone else. I was just the hands that shaped it."
Ivy lifted her head, watching him with eyes that saw through every wall he'd ever constructed.
"Until you." His voice cracked. "You and Mae. You're the first things I've ever built that are actually mine. The first things I get to keep."
"We're not things, Arlo."
"No. You're better." He cupped her face, pulled her up for a kiss that said everything his words couldn't. "You're my family. My future. My reason for everything."
"And you're ours." She settled back against his chest, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together. "You built us, Splinter. Built a family out of a scared single mom and a little girl who watched doors. Built us into something stronger than we ever could have been alone."
"We built each other."
"Yeah." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "We did."
His hand slid down her body, cupping the curve of her ass, still slick with their combined release.
"About those two more orgasms..."
"Give me five minutes."
"Three."
"You're impossible."
"You love it."
She did. God help her, she did.
True to his word, he made her come twice more that night.
Once with his mouth, slow and worshipful, his tongue tracing patterns on her clit until she fell apart on a moan of his name. Once with her on top, riding him while he played with her breasts, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside her until she screamed loud enough to wake the whole compound.
By the time they finally collapsed, exhausted and satisfied and utterly wrung out, the sky outside their window was starting to lighten.
"I built things my whole life," Splinter repeated softly, the words settling into the darkness like a benediction. "But I never had anything to keep until you."
Ivy's breathing evened out against his chest, sleep claiming her between one heartbeat and the next.
He held her through the approaching dawn, the woman who'd become his world, and marveled at the impossible gift of having something—someone—to keep.
Finally.
After all these years.
Something to keep.