Page 41 of Custodian

Ivy chuckled, of course she knew what he meant but this was way more fun. Some of her earlier nerves evaporated under the familiar teasing but she knew they would only return come morning. Speaking of which; “I guess we should hit the sack if we want to get to the encampment at dawn.”

Nik stood and stretched, “I guess you’re right. Good night, Poison Ivy.”

Ivy accepted the use of her nickname with an eye-roll. She actually secretly loved the moniker. Who didn’t want to be toxic and lethal with a single touch? She didn’t say so out loud of course and figured Nik needed some payback to ensure their relationship retained its normalcy. “Goodnight,” she said, stopping in the doorway. “I’m about to go have lots of animalistic sex in your guest room.”

She couldn’t hold back the chuckle that left her lips as Nik’s curses followed her down the hallway.

***

“Ivy, what is it?” Her ever perceptive partner asked as they got ready for bed.

She watched as Lark quickly shucked his shirt and pants, so he was left clad only in his black briefs, before he pulled back the covers and crawled in beside her. Pulling her close, he tangled his legs with her smooth ones and pulled her tight to his chest. Feeling warm and safe, made her feel even worse. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“Ivy …”

Ivy blew out a breath.Why is it whenever my brother or my lover use that tone with me, I felt like hunching my shoulders and apologising?Ivy wondered. She was a grown woman – one who removed heads for a living. And yet, one word said with the perfect inflection had her feeling like a naughty child. She allowed herself to be manoeuvred by Lark until they were facing each other. His eyes, shiny as green apples, gazed back at her expectantly.

“I’m scared to go in there,” she admitted to him, quietly.

Lark ran a comforting hand down her back, “I can take care of myself, honest.”

Ivy huffed and pushed against his chest, “Not scared for you, moron! I know you can take care of yourself. Scared for me. Scared what you’ll think of me after you see where I work and what I do every day. What I’vebeendoing every day for the last hundred-odd years before you were even born.”

Lark scooted himself closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. “One: there is nothing – absolutely nothing – you could say or do that would make me think less of you. I love you, Ivy. What’s more, Iseeyou. And I love, respect, and admire everything I see. Two,” he continued, not allowing her time to speak, “Are you still really hung up on the age thing? I thought you were over that.”

She almost smiled when she saw the pout on Lark’s face. The thought of seeing the slaughterhouse she worked in didn’t faze him, but one little comment about their age and he was glowering. At first, she had been really hung up on the differences in their ages. Lark was just over thirty and she was closing in on one-hundred and sixty. Although, now she could admit she was only using that as an excuse to keep Lark at arm’s length. She had been terrified when she had felt such an immediate attraction to the earth paladin. But it was the deeper, more intimate connection she’d felt that had her keeping her walls strong.

Lark had been patient. He had actually taken the time to get to know her – the real her – and not some public perception. Sure, she worked hard to build and maintain that perception. She was a ranger. What else could she be but hard and cold and distant? It’s what her society had expected of her and she had therefore strived to become it. But Lark had seen beneath the surface. Somehow, he had seen past the reflection society had built up and had decided he loved the woman underneath the hardened facade. Sometimes she could hardly still believe it.

“The age thing doesn’t bother me,” she finally admitted. “Nothing about us bothers me. I just … I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Not possible,” he said, fanning her hair over her naked shoulders and down her arms.

Ivy felt tingles spread in the wake of his touch but forced herself to stay on topic, “Are you really going to be able to go in there tomorrow and interrogate the prisoners?”

Lark shrugged, looking unconcerned. He asked; “Are you going to be with me?”

“Of course!” she promptly answered.

“Then, of course I am. I can do anything with you next to me,” he began nibbling on her fingertips.

“Oh boy. You slay me, you know that? Absolutely fucking slay me!” She gripped his face, holding it steady for her mauling mouth, and was gratified to feel his tongue duelling with hers.

He abruptly pulled away from her, divesting himself of his sexy, tight underwear and allowing her eyes free-range over his tightly muscled form. He was lean but not thin and his currently hunched back caused his shoulder blades to become more prominent, poking up almost like wings from his back. With the silvery moonlight filtering through the windows and the overhead beams, she could almost fancy Lark as her very own angel. She snorted self-consciously, the sound bringing Lark’s head up and ruining the quiet moment of whimsy. Or so she would have thought. But the look in his eyes – the look of perfect love and lust and faith, dragged her right back to that place where her heart beat frantically and her eyes teared up.

Before she could get too sappy, she tugged on his arm and tumbled him to the bed, straddling his waist and admiring the flex of his abdominal muscles. Ivy traced her finger along Lark’s collar bone before spreading her hands out on his chest. The softness of his skin covering all those lean muscles always surprised her and she took her time, mapping the expanse of his chest, even as she felt her body getting wetter and wetter. A sudden bucking of Lark’s hips had her gasping and landing on her back, their positions now switched. Ivy didn’t complain – she didn’t care what position they were in as long as she was surrounded by Lark.

He leaned down and kissed the sensitive area behind her ear, making her shiver. She raised her arms again, twining them around his neck and feeling the skin on his back now. It was nowhere near soft or smooth and the sharp contrast to his front had Ivy’s desire ratcheting up even more. Lark’s scars didn’t bother her – other than wanting to stab his piece of shit father in the heart, of course. In fact, she made it a point to kiss each and every puckered piece of flesh every damn day.

As Ivy was reacquainting herself with her guy’s bod, he was apparently doing the same. Large hands covered her small breasts and squeezed. Ivy clasped her thighs around Lark’s hips in response, urging him on. By the time he had lavished exquisite attention on both of her nipples, they were rosy and hard as diamond points. She loved the friction of his chest against them and proceeded to rub against him like a cat in heat.

“Ivy, now,” Lark groaned against her mouth.

Her undulating body obeyed her command to cease its frantic movement long enough to have Lark pushing into her with one smooth thrust. Ivy gasped, bringing her legs up to wrap around Lark’s hips and locking her ankles over his tight arse. Lark slowly slid his hard length out of the gripping confines of her body, only to push back in again with a furious snap of his hips. Ivy wished the feeling of ecstasy could last forever but she knew from experience it simply wasn’t possible. She didn’t like to admit it, but she had no staying power where her man was concerned. He was just too talented and his body played hers like a maestro. She felt her orgasm coming and dug her fingernails into Lark’s shoulders in an attempt to ground herself. She knew the effort was useless as soon as her body began to buck, her hips writhing frantically, unsure if they wanted to chase the all-consuming pleasure or run away from it.

It could have been minutes or hours later for all Ivy knew when Lark finally heaved his dead-weight off her. He flopped beside her on the bed, doing a pretty good rendition of a starfish and she couldn’t help giggling. Looks like she wasn’t the only one with no control over their body. She loved seeing the satiated and smug look in his green eyes as he turned his head toward her. His thick, auburn hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and Ivy figured she was probably a mess. But she didn’t care. She had promised herself animalistic sex in the guest room and that’s what she’d had.

Mission accomplished,she thought to herself, a healthy dose of smug settling in her own mind as well. Lark’s petting hands urged her to move into the cradle of his body and she happily obliged. Just before she fell into the oblivion of sleep, she heard him whisper;

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