Page 38 of Dreams on the Ice

I’m just so damn sad.

The silent house is deafening, my heart slamming against my chest with every step I take. No doubt Forrest can hear it. He walks into his room before me, like he has a dozen times. But instead of thinking he looks sexy or that this is going to be hot, I’m filled with a deepening sadness that rolls through me. This is the last time I’ll be here with him like this.

Forrest turns toward me, his eyes instantly connecting with mine, and then he clears his throat and takes a step forward. Wedon’t speak. Our bodies say everything we need them to. At least mine does.

And what my body begs for is… forgiveness for what I’m going to do when the sun rises.

FORREST

Looking into her eyes, I slowly slide inside of her body. There is something working behind Brooklynn’s eyes, but I don’t want to know what it is. Whatever it is, she can keep it to herself because I know without a doubt that it’s going to be something I don’t like.

Rolling my hips, I grip the back of her thigh, squeezing it hard as I fuck her. I’m taking my time, and my rhythm is slow and steady. I could do this shit all night long. Keeping my pace even, concentrating on her eyes.

My other hand, I slip behind her head, gripping her hair at the base of her neck. Breaking eye contact, I lower my head and touch my mouth to hers, brushing my lips across her own before I bury my face in her neck.

I grip the strands of her hair and tug on her head slightly, exposing more of her neck for my face. “Please,” she begs.

I don’t want this to end. There is something poignant about tonight, and it isn’t because it’s my birthday. It’s bigger than that. I can smell it, taste it… feel it.

“I never want this to end, Brooklynn,” I murmur against her skin.

Her nails scratch down my back, stopping at my ass as she digs them into my flesh. She’s trying to make me move faster, her orgasm likely on the edge, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to feel her pussy for just a little while longer.

“I’m so close,” she pants.

My hips roll again, grinding my pelvis against her clit. Then she whimpers as her cunt flutters around my cock—begging for relief. It’s a relief that I’m not ready to give her yet. Whatever change is coming, I don’t like it, and I want to ward it off for a little while longer.

“Hold off, honey,” I rasp.

She squeezes her pussy, clutching and releasing around me over and over. It feels out-of-this-fucking-world amazing. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my control snaps. Ripping my head from her throat, I look into her eyes as my knees find purchase in the mattress.

Then I fuck her.

Hard.

I take from her body what she’s giving me, but as I look into her eyes, I only see them for a split second before her lids slide closed. But what I saw… they look haunted, and I don’t like that, not in the fucking slightest.

But then I feel her pussy wrap me tightly. It clamps down around me and sucks me in deep, trying to hold me in place. I don’t do that, though. I can’t stay still. Even if someone were demanding that I do, my body couldn’t.

My hips buck harder, faster, thrusting into her as she cries out, and then I bury myself deep, my back bowing as I come on a roar. Brooklynn cups my cheeks, and then she slides her thumbs beneath my eyes.

Dipping my chin, I touch my lips to hers. “Fucking beautiful as always, honey.”

Slowly, I slide out of her body and lie on my back, my eyes staring at the ceiling before I gather her in my arms, pressing her against my side. As much as I want to talk to her, to find out just what had her eyes looking so damn haunted, I don’t.

Instead, I decide to enjoy the moment—my birthday. Fuck. Twenty-five. This day was supposed to be epic. And it was, but not in the way I had always imagined. This year was supposed to be magical. It was supposed to be life changing, and it is, just in a weird fucking way I never thought possible.

“Thank you for my birthday, Brook,” I murmur. She places her hand on my chest and then pushes up slightly.

Her brows are furrowed, and I can tell she’s going to talk to me about the game instead of my birthday party. I didn’t feel like discussing the game because that would mean I would have to discuss the Kiki thing, and honest to fuck, I am sick of the whole drama.

“Are you going to tell me about the fight? That wasn’t about the game.”

I think about lying to her but then decide against it because a lie never did anyone any damn good, and I think we’ve had enough of those with my family, Kiki, and the whole-ass internet.

“He mentioned something about the videos, about me being a cheater, in not so many words,” I say.

Admitting that out loud makes me feel a certain way, and I don’t fucking like it, not in the slightest. But I’m also not going to dig deep and figure out why. Maybe because it’s all a lie, and I know that I’m not a liar.

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