I can feel his hot saliva mixed with my own slick dripping steadily down between my cheeks, soaking the edge of the mattress beneath me. I push my heel harder against his broad back and fist the sheets tight in both hands, silently begging him not to stop, needing him deeper, needing more.
His tongue fucks me harder, faster, plunging in and out with wet, obscene sounds that fill the room. His wide nose grinds relentlessly against my swollen clit with every deep thrust, sending sparks shooting through my belly. The wet heat of his mouth devours my pussy completely. His tongue drags over every perfect spot inside me. Heat coils tighter and tighter in my core.
"I'm going to—uh—" Electric waves crash through me as I come hard all over Hound's tongue and face. He doesn't stop, licking and thrusting through every pulse and tremble while I babble and curse, until the pleasure finally ebbs and I collapse against the bed.
I breathe heavily. Faint popping and movement tell me Conall's done being sidelined by Hound. The lips that kiss my inner thigh are now very much human.
"Ivy," he breathes, and the desperation in his voice cuts through me. All of the want and pull and the steady ways I've been falling for Conall swirl together with the trauma and trust issues and heartbreak from my ex until tears prick behind my eyes and I have to cover my face to hide the embarrassment.
"Ivy," Conall says again, voice laced with worry this time. The bed shifts on my right side and I feel his fingers brush my arm gently. "Ivy, Jesus, did I hurt you?"
I shake my head and turn to my side into the dip in the bed, curling my legs toward my center so that I'm not hanging half off. I breathe steadily trying to calm myself down. His fingers skim my hair, pushing it back to uncover my hands, still over my face. His touch is so carefulcompared to Hound's feral need just a few moments ago. The contrast makes my knees shake and my center slick again.
"You were so beautiful coming apart,” he says. “Let me help you Ivy, please."
I take a deep breath and when I push it out I feel like I'm exhaling all of the negative feedback from Mark, my broken expectations, and from my trust issues. It all blows away on that sigh. I slowly drop my hands from my face, letting him see me.
Conall's eyes search mine, open and concerned.
"Sorry," I whisper. Even though I'm not quite sure why. Being a hot mess seems like a good enough reason.
He doesn't hesitate as he reaches forward and pulls me into him. One arm wrapping around my waist, big hand moving solidly up and down my spine in perfect, grounding touch. The other hand sweeps under my head to replace my pillow and curls so that his fingertips can move through my hair.
"Never apologize. I need you to cry when you need to cry, and to trust that I can handle it. That I want it. I want you to lean on me. Because every time you do, I know you trust me."
I nod and move closer, burying my face in his chest and tangling my legs with his. We've woken up like this before, but this is different because this is a choice by both of us.
"I've got you, Freckles," he says, tucking his chin over my head. "I promise."
Conall
She’d said she’d think about it. I’m far from out of the dog house despite what she’d let me do to her this morning.
My hound chuffs within me.
Okay, maybe not me as I am right now, but still me. She'd trusted me at least that far and I’m hell bent on making sure Ivy can keep putting her trust in me. I don't push. I don't hover. What I do instead is make breakfast, leave it on the counter without saying anything, and fix the loose hinge on the front gate that's been shrieking every time she opens it. An hour of work. She never has to know it was me. I do it anyway.
We walk to the shop without speaking, which should feel bad but doesn't. She takes my arm at the bottom of the bluff where the stones are slick and doesn't comment on it. I feel every second of both.
She wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be an inconvenience. A temporary obstacle between me and the freedom I'd been waiting my whole life to have. She was supposed to be someone I resented in the abstract, and never thought about specifically.
My hound knew better from the first night. I'd called him an overprotective ass for it.
In the shop I watch her in the reflection of the window, writing something in a notepad at the counter, and I feel something settleinto place in my chest. Not dramatic. Not a revelation. Just the quiet acknowledgment of something I've been fighting.
I'm not getting my life back. Sheismy life. I work around the shop.
"Ivy's Gifts and Things," she murmurs while doodling on a notepad, pen swirling across the page. I'm dusting under jars because that's what I do now.
"What?" I ask, setting a jar back on the shelf and coming to the counter across from her. She startles as though she hadn't meant to say it out loud.
"Oh, I was just workshopping a possible store name. If I did decide to change it. You know, if I end up being allowed to stay."
A name to make the store more hers. The vulnerability in her eyes is heartbreaking. She's poured her heart into a business before, and had it taken from her by someone who should have protected her dreams. Deciding to try again must be terrifying. She's so brave, my mate.
I reach across the counter and gently pull the notebook toward me. She lets me. On the page is a design, the shop's name written for a sign enclosed in ivy vines. Given my species, her name feels fortuitous.
"This is beautiful," I say, tracing the vines as they snake around the letters. I look up and find her face flushed, brightening her brown eyes and bringing out her freckles.
