Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 41

I hadn't realised how comfortable I'd gotten with the weight of all my fear, worry and anxiety until that heavy burden was suddenly gone. It feels like someone has lifted a whole skyscraper off of me, one I didn't know I was under.

I have a way out, an actual plan, and that knowledge is even more freeing than I'd imagined it would be.

By the time I'm home and locked away in my room, I feel lighter than air. There's a dumb smile stuck to my face that I can't shake. With only the silence for company, I give myself time to process what happened tonight and what it all means.

It doesn't feel real.

Not yet.

It probably won't sink in until I'm out of this godforsaken house.

As I remove my blouse, my hands graze the skin on my stomach and I'm reminded of the way Bucky's hands slid underneath it earlier tonight. The way he touched me without a thought or care for who might see us. Almost like he'd hoped someone would. His touch somehow both gentle and possessive.

After that, it's not my hands I imagine removing my clothes but his. And when I'm relaxed back on my bed, in nothing but my underwear, the hands roaming down my body are his too.

Instead of the soft caress of my fingers, I feel his calloused ones trailing down, down, down. Until they're dipping into my underwear to quiet the demanding need that's been building there all night.

It's not the same.

I'm ruined.

I always knew he'd ruin me; I just wouldn't have guessed this is how he'd do it. My touch doesn't satisfy me anymore, not when my body has experienced the earth-shattering orgasms he can draw out of me.

I mean, the things that man can do with his mouth alone. He should teach a fucking class on it or something.

In comparison, everything I do to myself now feels second rate at best.

Frustrated, I pull my hand away and stare down at my body like it's betrayed me. And it has because I'm unable to sleep when I'm this pent up and aching for him. Every part of my body feels primed and ready to be touched; to be fucked.

Glancing down at myself, I take in the lacy matching underwear set I put on with Bucky in mind, knowing full well he'd not get a chance to see it. I'm hit with the sudden urge to throw all my inhibitions and good sense out the window and do something impulsively stupid.

I've got my phone in my hand, capturing photos before I can second guess myself. They're all from the neck down because I'm being stupid, but not that stupid. I settle on one I'm happy with, my body arching off the bed as my hand reaches low on my stomach, my fingers mere inches from reaching inside my panties. I send it to Bucky before I can change my mind.

As soon as the message shows as delivered, I'm hit with regret. My face heats as I think about him opening it, wondering what he'll think when he does. I'm glued to my phone, staring down at the message until it shows that he's opened and read it.

Then I wait.

And wait some more.

But it never shows him typing a response.

Oh god, what was I thinking? Why did I think that was a good idea?

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT!

My phone is ringing.

My. Phone. Is. Ringing.