Page 53 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

Lyric’s response is a soft chuckle, tinged with a hint of bitterness. “I left the internship the second my boss attempted to claim my personal designs as his own.” She pauses, a grimace flickering across her face. “I was searching for a new designer house when Pipe and Grace convinced me to come back home.”

At the mention of our cousins, Harper stiffens. It was them who found out that our sister had bruises on her arms. Lyr came back so we could be there for Harp while she left the abuser. To stand with her and go from victim to survivor.

“It’s hard to admit that the person who loves you is hurting you intentionally,” Harper says. “In the beginning, he would apologize. Then, he would blame me for having to do it. It was my fault he cracked a rib or broke my arm. He gaslit me claiming to be the victim.”

Lyric and I stand from our seats and hug her.

“I get it, you blame yourself for whatever happened to you, Indie,” she continues. “But know that it wasn’t your fault, whatever happened. And we’re here whenever you’re ready to share. If anything, go to a therapist.”

“It’s on my calendar. I attend weekly sessions,” I say, but my voice comes out empty.

We discuss my anxiety, what provokes it and how to cope. He doesn’t know about Frederick. No one does. What will I win by saying anything out loud?

I’m sure everyone will think I was an idiot. It’s not like Freddie was some stranger who forced himself. We were friends and . . . I just—I feel so ashamed about that night and everything that led to it.

Will this ever get any better?

Chapter Thirty

Tyberius

Restless, sitting in my dimly lit bedroom, my mind recounts my time spent with Indie. Every detail from the moment she kissed me is on replay.

The sensation of her skin against mine. My mouth on her pussy. Her taste, the catch in her breath, the depth in her eyes revealing a whirlwind of emotions—it all lingers with me, tangible and haunting.

I fucking need her.

It’s a truth that digs deep, an ache that’s both sweet and agonizing.

Compelled by a craving too potent to ignore, my hand moves almost of its own volition, reaching for my phone. In this moment, bridging the gap between us feels urgent, necessary. Given the casual nature of our relationship, friends who happened to share a few benefits, I opt for a bold approach—a sext.

Ty: I just laid in bed for the last hour thinking about you, guess what I was doing? :eggplant: emoji

As I wait for her reply, my cock hardens. Ah, the thrill of teasing her, of drawing out that blush I can’t see but can vividly imagine.

Indie: :raised-eyebrow: emoji Umm what’s happening here? Are we supposed to throw vegetables at each other? :red-apple: emoji

Ty: I’m trying to get back to our earlier text/conversation. Before you left me hanging, darling. I was about to tell you how good you taste—how wet I want you.

Indie: I recall the conversation.

Ty: Why did you stop it?

Indie: My sisters were in the living room. I couldn’t continue such a discussion when I was practically shaking and wanting to touch myself while you told me the things you wanted to do to me.

I swallow. Okay, she’s good at this. Is she, or maybe she’s too honest and is telling me just what was happening—no role-playing. Either way, I want to continue, see how far we can get. But now, I’m curious about her preferences.

Ty: So I take it you don’t like sex in public places.

Indie: I . . . I wouldn’t use the word dislike. Plus, my house isn’t a public place.

Ty: But there were people around who could hear your moan loudly as you touched your pretty pussy. Sliding your fingers in and out imagining it was me.

Indie: I wouldn’t care if they had been strangers. We’re talking about my sisters. They’d tease the fuck out of me for eternity. Plus, it’d be embarrassing.

Ty: So it’d be okay if they were strangers? We could go to a restaurant, and I’ll finger you under the table?

I press send before I even checked if I worded it correctly. But hopefully, she gets the idea and we can get this rolling. I need some relief.

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