Page 53 of Worth the Rush
“Please what, baby? What do you want me to do to this pretty pussy? Should I start with worshiping it with my tongue?” I nod, half-delirious. “Words, Ivy.” I glare at him.
“I want your mouth on me, so you’ll shut the fuck up,” I snap, and he chuckles, shaking his head and tsking.
“Ivy, that’s not what we’re doing tonight. You said you’d be good for me. Can you do that?” I’m equal parts turned on and ready to kick him off the couch. I start to nod, but he grips my chin with his index finger and thumb. It’s gentle, but it stopsme and forces me to meet his glassy eyes. “Say you’re going to be good for me. I want the words,” he tells me slowly. His voice is already thick, and I want him. Badly. I open my mouth, ready to give in when an idea strikes. I stick my tongue out and lick his thumb.
His jaw slackens, and his groan loosens in his chest. “Fuuuuck, baby,” he grits out before sticking his thumb into my waiting mouth. I leave my mouth open, staring at him innocently. Waiting for instruction. “Suck.” His voice is harsh and rough, and I’m dripping. I wrap my lips around his thumb, flattening my tongue against it. Then I suck, hollowing my cheeks. His eyes ignite. I moan, and his lids start to look heavy at the noise. I buck my hips up, needing friction. “Do you want me to touch that pretty pussy now?” I nod and suck harder, groaning. “You look so pretty sucking on my thumb like this baby. Are you wishing it was my dick?” I mmhmm around him and pull his thumb out of my mouth with a loud wet pop.
“I want you, Alder,” I demand. He smiles, but not in the way that tells me I’m getting what I want. I whine, and he chuckles.
“What do you want, princess? Do you want me on my knees?” he teases me, pinching a nipple as he kneels before me. I cry out at the sensation.
“I want you to stop teasing me and fuck me.” I growl. Alder’s eyes are two blue flames now. He grips my thigh, lifting it up, and thrusts inside me. “Yes, oh god, yes,” I call out. He continues to pump into me until I can’t breathe. I don’t remember how to breathe or my own name anymore. I just know that I don’t want Alder to ever stop or ever be away from me. That thought scares the shit out of me and has me coming harder than I ever have in my life.
“Say you’re mine, Ivy.”
“I’m yours, I’m yours!” I scream as he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel like I’m in another universe.
“That’s right, baby.Mine.” Alder grunts and finishes inside me, calling out my name and landing on top of me. I run my fingers through his still-damp hair. Content to stay here, just like this, listening to his breathing sync with mine and with his arms banding around my back and shoulders, cradling me. Moments like this have me rethinking my plans. Rethinking what I want my life to look like, what it could look like. Who I might want to keep in it.
I’m…giddy? I’ve spent the past five nights at Alder’s house and have a good collection of cropped T-shirts at mine. I’ve only been to my place to change for work in the mornings and to grab a toothbrush. My purple toothbrush that is now in the cup by the sink in his bathroom. That thought has me more giddy than is acceptable. I grin, thinking about him putting it in there next to his when he found it left on the counter.
He sent me a text yesterday, telling me where the spare key was and to let myself in. I hesitated, trying to prove to myself that I could spend the night alone. Ultimately, all I proved was that I would rather be with him. I also wanted to know if he was okay. He was getting ready to lead a river rescue. Someone had decided to try ice fishing in an area that was restricted, for good reason, and was stuck out there, too scared to move. It makes me nervous to think of him in these situations, but I’ve witnessed time and time again that Alder is incredibly capable of the missions he goes on.
I think back to last night when he brought me chocolate croissants from Thistle and Sage. We were watching yet another documentary about a serial killer who specifically targets people in national parks. I’ve never met someone who could keep up with true crime like I do. I was telling him about the podcast I listened to. He pulled his phone out and, in seconds, had it queued and ready to go on the TV in his living room. Alder is so straightforward. He says what he means, and he means what he says. I’m not used to it, but I think Icouldget used to it.
“Please never go into a national park by yourself,” he begged.
“You either! One of the victims was a single man. It’s not just women, Alder,” I teased.
“I’m not really single, though, am I?” he asked while dropping lazy kisses onto my neck.
“Hmm…no, maybe not.” I could feel his smile against me before sitting up on the couch next to me.
“Now I need you to be honest with me for a minute, princess.” He was serious for a minute. I think my exact thoughts were “oh shit” and “not yet” even though I had no idea what he was going to ask.
“Will you…” he started, “watchTwilightwith me?” He buried his face into my stomach, where it shook with my laughter. A deep, almost painful laugh broke free from me. I love how he teases me.
“Oh, my god. I thought you’d never ask,” I wheezed out between laughs and him kissing me.
Of course, after watching the first movie,New Moonhadto be next, even though it was late. He tried to tell me he’d never seen it, but when Bella gets to the reservation to confront her werewolf best friend, he was saying, “Bella, where the hell have you been, loca?” right along with me and Jacob Black.
We explored each other's bodies and talked about space, which led to an in-depth discussion on which planet we would live on– if it was inhabitable.
When he got home from work, I wasn’t sure what kind of mood he would be in. He wanted me in his bed within minutes of walking in the door. I clench my thighs together, remembering the command in his voice. “Bed, Ivy. Now.”
The rescue was successful, and I would venture to say that the rest of the night had been as well. I blush thinking about the things he said to me. The things I said back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.
Sex? I’ve had it. Not a lot, if I'm being honest, but enough to rate it. At least that’s what I thought.On this side of the chart we havenot greatand on this side we havegood.That was before.Alder Holloway is now the whole pie chart. Nothing I’ve experienced before is like what I’ve shared with Alder. It’s all good with him. So good. Everything. Before, during, after. All the time I spend with him is good.
I change out of a big red T-shirt with a sports team logo on it and some sweatpants and add them to the ever-growing pile of Alder’s clothing that I’m acquiring. I smile. I like wearing his clothes. I like smelling like him. He told me not to shower this morning so I would smell like him all day. A request that I could easily agree to. I put on a purple sweater and leggings, followed by a pair of thick socks and boots. Not bothering to put any makeup on, I French braid my hair straight down my back. I look in the mirror, and I don’t looklike myself. Or maybe I look more like myself than I ever have.
The dark edges of myself that I’ve been clinging so tightly to have brightened a bit. Is this what happiness looks like? What healing could mean for me? It’s been so long. I feel lighter. Not weightless. I don’t think that’s the goal, but like maybe the weight of all that I’ve gone through, the future I had let myself dream about, isn’t something I have to continue to let crush me. Maybe if I let someone care about me, believe that they do, I can let them help me carry the weight of my grief and pain. I won’t have to bear it alone anymore.
I physically feel the shift in me. My revelation is so much more than surface level and the way I look outwardly. The reflection in the mirror is only a likeness to the transformation that’s been going on inside me. Feelings I bury over and over are coming to the surface, and I let them. I close my eyes and welcome them. Maybe…maybe I can honor Silas…by living a life filled with love. Pain. Love that I will continue to have for him until we’re reunited one day. I hear a choked noise and open my eyes to find it’s come out of my mouth. From somewhere deep in my gut.
I place shaky fingers to my lips as more emotion barrels into me. I try to avoid thinking about him, my idea of what life would have been with him, knowing that when I do, searing pain comes with it. Anytime I see a little boy around the age he would be, it sends imaginary images to my brain. Letting myself think about him now and be fully immersed in dreams that were stolen, when I didn’t feel like I was allowed to for so many years, is painful but also healing.
Noah wouldn’t talk to me about it other than to say that my miscarriage at three months pregnant was a blessing in disguise.I physically recoil, thinking about his callousness during the months that followed. After telling me repeatedly that losing my son was part of a bigger plan and maybe it was for the best since I wasn’t ready to be a mom, he took me to that horrible place, saying it would help, but I know now he took me there, so he didn’t have to deal with my depressive episode.
