Then there are people whose childhoods are smashed to bits in one blow. They topple into adulthood, flailing about for something to hold onto, and the terror of falling leaves a permanent scar on their psyche. Do those people ever end up feeling safe? I wonder about that, because I fell hard. For so long there were days when it seemed as though I was still falling, when I couldn’t find a single good thing to hold onto, when nothing felt safe or secure.
Then I met Ivy. Somehow, she caught me. Ivy is peace and warmth and hope, and I find myself holding on tight, afraid that if she lets me go I’ll be in a free fall once again.
The fact that one person has so much power over my happiness scares the shit out of me. I know how fragile life is. Here today, dust tomorrow. But only a fool cuts his one lifeline.
I’m no fool even if I act as though I am to the outside world. So I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Ivy.
Twenty-Two
Gray
GrayG: I think we need to put a sexting rule into our playbook.
IvyMac: There’s playbook? When did we get a playbook?
GrayG: We’ve always had one. The Book of Ivy and Gray. It’s epic. I’ve added a large addendum to cover sex. Play Pattern 1 (Shenanigans): fuck as often as my dick and your pussy hold out.
IvyMac: Lovely. You are truly gifted with words. Is there a reason you’re texting me when we’re in the same bed?
GrayG: To test out my new phone. And so I can see that little smile you make when you read them. Have you always smiled like that over my texts?
IvyMac: Always, Cupcake.
GrayG: Lie back now, honey. I’m going to lick that sweet pussy and see you smile some more.
“Gray!”
Ivy turns to glare at me from over her bare shoulder. Her cheeks pink. “Do you have to use pussy? It’s so crude.” She sounds annoyed, but those gorgeous dark eyes of hers glaze over with want. It makes my hard dick throb.
“Vagina then?” I give her a leer.
Her nose wrinkles. “Er…no.”
“Lady lips?”
She’s laughing now. “I’ll never live that down.”
Grinning, I toss my phone aside and reach for her. She’s all warmth and long limbs and smooth skin. “Love pot?” I murmur, skimming my lips down her long torso. “Honey muff? Secret garden of delight?”
“Crazy nut,” she calls me.
“Now, Mac, we’re going to have problems if you can’t tell the difference between a nut and a pussy. Here…” I ease her thighs apart. “Let me educate you.”
Her phone falls from her hand, the sound of her squawking protests and laughter drifting off into a gurgle as I bury my head between her legs, kiss her softly. Again. And again. Until I finally take a long, savoring lick and lose myself, drunk off the honey-sweet slickness that is Ivy.
* * *
Ivy
Gray decides to convert my bed into a tent, hanging all my available sheets over the canopy until not a bit of the room peeks through. That he’s naked as he does this serves as my entertainment. I bite the edge of my lower lip as his pale, taut butt flexes and the muscles along his back and shoulders ripple. Gray completely owns his body and always moves with assured grace. Though I suppose if I were as fit and firm as he is, I’d flaunt myself that way too.
Right now, I can’t think about moving. I’m sore all over, a delicious kind of ache achieved by a night of marathon sex. I smile into my pillow. Last night, we’d gone at it with single-minded devotion, stopping only to doze or talk. In the middle of telling a joke or simply talking, we’d remember that, yes, we can touch. And that would be it, mouths caressing, hands touching, Gray moving inside me.
When the sun came up, Gray hunted down the leftover pain aux raisins, which he declared the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth. Well, aside from my “sweet-as-fuck pussy.” And I had to give him points for being both complimentary and crude.
Standing above me now, Gray catches my smile and grins back. Everything we’ve done—every dirty, sweet, raunchy thing—passes between us like a shared secret. Heat swells within me, but I don’t move.
Finished with his task, he scrambles under the covers and pulls me close. His skin is cool, and I wrap myself around his big body to warm him. Gray exhales in a sigh before slowly peppering my face with soft kisses. “Call me crazy,” he says as he kisses along my cheek, “but ever since I was a kid and saw A Christmas Carol, I’ve wanted to sleep in an enclosed canopy.”
I run my hands over his shoulder. Warm satin and carved granite. I love touching him. “Hmmm. This feels more like we’re in one of those old-fashioned canvas tents.”
He glances at the white sheets surrounding us. With the sunlight filling the room, the enclosed little space glows golden. But it is cozy and quiet, and ours. I burrow closer to Gray, touch his jaw, the plump curve of his lower lip. He nips my fingers. “Yeah, it really needs dark sheets for the full Victorian effect.”
“That’s okay, I’ve always had an Out of Africa safari fantasy.” Smiling, I run my fingers along his temple. “You can be my Robert Redford and wash my hair later.”
“Isn’t he a little old for you, Mac?” He wrinkles his nose is mock horror.
“Sexy doesn’t have an expiration date, Cupcake.”
“Well, at least I know you’re into blond dudes.” Gray hunkers down further into the pillows. Against our nest of white sheets his skin is like amber honey, his eyes lapis blue. He’s so freaking gorgeous, he takes my breath.
“I’m into you,” I say.
As if he’s equally mesmerized, he traces along my face, his long fingers deft and gentle. “I meant what I said before, Ivy. I’m so fucking crazy about you, I…” His teeth sink into his full lower lip. “I’ve never felt like this. I don’t want to fuck it up.”