Chapter 19

Atlas

We drive straight through. I'm tempted to pull off into that little motel once more for time alone with Ivy, but I know she won't leave her sister. Not yet. If the roles were reversed, I'd feel the same, so despite the energy pulsing under my skin with the unnerving drive to fuck Ivy—it's the gratus, but it's also the fear that I could have lost her—I suppress it, and instead concentrate on the knowledge she's still with me. She has chosen to ride with me rather than on the bus. She's got her arms wrapped around my waist, her thighs pressed against my legs as I sit between them. It gives me hope she might choose to stay.

It takes too long to get back to Carran, and rather than going straight to Hallowed, we go to Grams' house, where she's waiting for us along with one of the buses. The other two broke off, one for the Grays in Norwood Falls, and one for the Whites in Wolfden Peak. It's the best way to ensure the protection of the calix women, but it also means there will be a confluence of demons into Murrus, especially if there are any additional bonds, so we'll need a plan and to be prepared.

When we pull into the driveway, my whole family—extended family of uncles and aunts, cousins, and their families—are waiting outside the farmhouse, not only Grams. They've mobilized. As each woman departs the bus, Grams and the aunts match her with a waiting family, until all have accommodations. Hazel and Ivy join Tate and me at Hallowed. Grams and Rome, as well as Luka and Samson, have taken in women as well.

When Ivy, Hazel, Tate, and I finally reach Hallowed, it"s deep into the darkness of early morning, and all of us are exhausted. We clomp in through the front door, carting our things.

"I think I might sleep until next week," Ivy says. "I can show you to our room, Hazel. Is that okay?" she asks me.

I nod, though disappointed. She's pulling away. But I knew what this was. She never made a secret about it. She wanted to get to her sister. And now we have her. "Of course," I tell her.

Hazel makes a hesitant sound, her green eyes—different than Ivy's—bouncing between us. "Would it be okay if I stay with—" She swallows and looks at Tate. "Would it be okay if I stay with you?"

"What?" Ivy seems surprised, and I guess I am as well.

Tate's eyes widen and dart to me—though I don't know why.

What is it? I ask him through our link.

"I just feel… safe… with Tate," Hazel explains.

Tate swallows. It's nothing, he says to me then smiles at Hazel as if nothing is amiss. "Sure. Of course. It's a plan."

But I know he's lying to me via omission, but about what, I'm not sure. I trust him to share when he's ready. I look at Ivy. You and me? I ask her through our link.

She gives me a shy smile, but nods and holds out her hand.

I take it and follow her down the stairs.

When the door closes behind me, Ivy is already pulling at my t-shirt, drawing it over my head as she walks backward toward the bed.

"Ivy?" I ask her.

"What?" She draws her shirt over her head and drops it. She unbuckles her pants and pushes them down over her hips, until she stands in front of me only in her lacy bra and panties.

I lick my bottom lip. "I want to fucking take you apart, woman." But I also want to respect what she needs… what I need. "Are you leaving?" I ask.

She sits on the edge of the bed, grabs hold of my belt, and yanks me toward her. "Not this minute."

"You know what I'm asking, Ivy."

"And I'm telling you," she says, as she unbuckles my belt and works the buttons of the fly open, "that right now, this is the answer I've got." She pushes my pants down over my hips, drawing my cock out from the confines of my briefs. And then her mouth is around my head and sliding down, taking my length into her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Ivy." I hiss a sound, grabbing the back of her head and reveling in the feel of her mouth and tongue working me. She wraps a hand around the base of my dick and glides it in rhythm with her mouth, her tongue giving that little spot on the underside extra attention. "That feels—" I suck a breath in through my teeth as her teeth graze me, my knees turning to jelly it feels so fucking good. Her other hand grabs my ass cheek, holding me hostage to her onslaught. "Ivy," I chant her name.

She hums with me still in her mouth.

"I. Don't. Want. To. Come. This. Way." I pant the words.

She draws me into her with strong suction, then releases my cock.

I groan.

With her lips still against the sensitive skin of my head as she says, "How do you want to come, Atlas?"

I don't reply at first and instead kneel onto the bed, then adjust myself higher, lying down on my back. "Not yet," I tell her. "Come, here. Sit on my face," I tell her.

"You're so bossy," she says.

I hum as I watch her walk across the bed on her knees. When she gets close to me, I help her straddle my face, that lacy covering obscuring what I want. When I look up at her I say, "Is that a complaint?" then use my tongue to lick her over her panties.

She gasps. "No."

"No to this? Or no complaints?"

"No complaints." She looks down at me and grins. "I can be equally bossy," she says, running a hand down her belly and diving into her panties to play with her clit. "I know what I want."

My body pulses with our shared power—she gasps again feeling it as well—and I slide my finger over the seam of her panties at her leg, hooking a finger underneath, and drawing the fabric to the side so I can see her pussy, I can see her finger sliding around her clit. I lean up and lick.

She gasps again. "That feels so good," she moans.

With the hand not holding her panties, I grab her hip and pull her down onto my face, my tongue waiting when she makes contact, delving it through her heat, sharing her clit with her finger, pushing it up into her.

"Fuck, Atlas," she mewls, her hips already rocking against my face, against my tongue as I fuck her with it, lick her, watch her come apart because of my mouth. It's an addictive sight. She releases her clit and grabs her tits, and with one hand I reach up and pull her bra down, so I can see one. She takes the lacy undergarment off, her hips rocking against my mouth, and now that her tits are free, her hands find her nipples and pinch them between her fingers. Then she's grabbing the headboard for leverage, her body singing at my attention. I grab my cock in one hand, because I can't seem to help it, I'm so fucking lost to the pleasure with her.

"Oh. Please. Atlas. Please. I'm going to—" Then she arches her back with a cry, pants, and I taste the musk of her orgasm.

It makes me feral.

I sit up, pushing her onto her back, and pull her panties down her legs, finishing the job with my feet as I line up my cock with her entrance and push into her with a groan. "Ivy." Her name is both a curse and a praise offering, her cunt squeezing my girth.

She cries out, her back arching and her nails finding purchase on my back. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Atlas!"

I yank her hips up, draping her legs over my arms. Then I grind into her, pushing in and pulling out, over and over, creating a rhythm between us that is perfect, more than perfect. The way we feel together, the power pulsing between us, the warmth spreading under my skin, lighting up my tattoos. "Beautiful," I gasp, ramming into her again and again. I release her legs and drop forward onto my hands.

Ivy wraps her legs around my hips, her heels biting into my ass as I thrust again and again. She pulls me down, her lips finding mine, her tongue diving into meet mine, a mimicry of the sex which has turned haphazard and frantic.

"Ivy," I gasp into her mouth. "Don't go."

"I'm coming," she cries out, arching against me as I pound into her.

And as her cunt clenches around my cock, I succumb to the pleasure and grit my teeth growling out my pleasure as my orgasm rips through me. When it passes and I relax, her arms fold around me.

"Don't go," I whisper.

She doesn't answer, but her arms squeeze me tighter to her.