Holly & Ivy by T.B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod

Author:T.B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod [Markinson, T.B. & MacLeod, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T.B. Markinson
Published: 2019-11-13T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Holly fell onto her back. Between her legs, Ivy rested her glistening cheek on Holly’s pubic hairs. Behind Holly’s head, a gray patch of sky visible through the window hinted that dawn was approaching. They’d been at this for hours, and neither showed any inclination toward stopping.

“You really are amazing,” Holly said, brushing a curl from Ivy’s forehead with her finger.

“That’s what all the girls say after I eat their pussy.” Immediately, Ivy grimaced, pinching her eyes shut. “That sounded so much better in my head.”

“All, huh?” Holly cocked an eyebrow. “I take it there have been many.”

“No!” Ivy sat up, shaking her head. “Not even close. It was just a joke. I swear.”

Holly toyed with the idea of asking her to elaborate but opted to let her off the hook. She didn’t really care how many others there’d been, anyway. It was just a number. Holly had a number, too, somewhat more than one and a lot lower than ten. There was only one woman she cared about at the moment. Holly crooked a finger, beckoning Ivy closer. “Come here.”

Ivy curled up beside her, cozy as a kitten, with her head nestled in the crook of Holly’s arm.

Holly’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling weightless, elated. Everything in that moment felt right and perfect. “I’ve never been much of a cuddler, but I can’t get enough of your skin against mine.”

“Is cuddler a Holly word?” Ivy shifted, settling on top of Holly’s chest so they could talk face-to-face.

“I suppose so. English wasn’t my strongest subject. I was much better at math.”

Ivy, with her head on Holly’s chest, looked up. “I’m curious. The shirt you were wearing earlier. It had an equation, but it didn’t make much sense. To me, that is.”

Holly chuckled. “Ah, six plus four plus three equals two.”

“Yes.” Ivy tapped the bedsheet with her fingers, as if counting. “Whatever math that is, I never took it in school.”

“It’s not a math thing.” Holly stilled Ivy’s fingers. “It’s a baseball thing.”

“You’re into baseball?”

“My old man’s a fan. We’d watch the games together when I was young. There’s a number assigned to every position. Six refers to the shortstop. Four is second base. Three is first. If a batter hits into a double play by knocking the ball to the short stop, he, in turn, throws the ball to second base, so the runner coming from first is out, and then the ball is chucked to the first baseman, equaling two outs.”

“How adorably nerdy. How many times have you had to explain that?”

“Never. It’s the shirt I sleep in. No one’s seen it but you.”

As Ivy dozed against her, Holly stroked her silky back, thinking. The night had ended up much differently than she’d thought it would when Ivy had left her on the sidewalk alone. Better. Much better, even compared to how she’d originally pictured the walk ending in her head. In that imaginary version, they’d ended up in Ivy’s bed. That was probably because Holly never brought women back to her house.

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