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My eyes widen at her lack of protesting, but I take it as a small win, nestle her against me, and kiss her until she moans. Sliding my hand under the shirt, I find she’s in a pair of my boxers. I slip a finger inside, gliding through her slick folds. A cursory glance at my glistening finger reveals her bleeding has stalled, but her desire hasn’t waned.
I growl, “You’re soaked again, Little Storm.”
“Mmhmm. I’m still hungry—for more than eggs.” She grabs my dick with a purr, clouding my goddamn head.
“You’ll be sore. We should—”
“Fine,” she snipes, wrenching out of my arms. “I’ll take care of myself when you fall asleep.”
“No.” I curl my fingers onto her hips, holding her in place. “There’ll be none of that from now on. Unless I’m watching.”
She scoffs. “What?”
My lips move to her ear as I cup her over the boxers. “This cunt is mine now. I own your pleasure, Ivanna. You need to come, you ask me.”
Her breath hitches. She’s undeniably aroused by that demand, and yet her strong-willed mind readies for a fight. “What if you’re not home?”
I scrape the eggs onto a plate with the toast and fruit. “You wait.”
“Asleep?”
“Wake me up.”
“Not in the mood?”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Refusing me because you think I’m sore?”
I smile, wink, and hand her the plate with a fork. “I’ll come up with something. Eat your damn food.”
She laughs as she moves to a stool at the island. Her full, infectious cackle bounces off the ceiling and apparently acts as a beacon to the guys, who saunter in from the patio.
Here we go.
The three of them are all sporting smiles like the fucking Joker on their faces.
And Liam starts clapping like a jackass. “Aww. Look at the happy couple. Finally fuck your bride, Chief?”
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss.
Ivy’s face blushes a lobster red as shestabs her eggs with a coy grin, but no comeback.
I walk toward Liam and palm the back of his neck. “Didn’t you say you weren’t always a motherfucker?”
“I gave you all I had in that department earlier, and it looks like it paid dividends, so—”
“Yeah. Thanks, but shut your suck, Graves.”
He snickers, but keeps his mouth shut.
Ty must notice Ivy’s discomfort. He hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Happy looks good on you, Freckles.”
She reaches for his hand. “Thanks, Ty. I am.”
Gage drops onto the kitchen stool beside her. “Does this mean you won’t be baking anymore?”
That eases all the tension, and she bursts out laughing, shooting a look to Liam, who winks back, affirming a proud, “Mission accomplished, High Society.”
