Page 68 of Born of Ice

Swallowing those thoughts, I ask, “H-how did I end up on top of you?”

“Hmm, you prefer to be on the bottom? No problem, I’ll remember for the next time,” Exton throws out casually while my cheeks can’t possibly get any more flushed. God, I wish I could get up and away from him right now.

Why does he have to know what he does to me? Can’t I just die in peace? At least he can’tseemy embarrassment in this position.

I smack his chest. “Stop that! I’m serious. The last thing I remember was you falling asleep on top of me and I couldn’t possibly move your hulk body, so I fell asleep here too. Thanksfor that, by the way,” I add sourly, even though I don’t actually feel any of it. And I didn’t try all that hard to move him. Or wake him up.

I liked it too much to complain. I slept too well to be angry. But I should be.

“My, angry elf, I do like to start my mornings with compliments. Please keep going. Hint, hint: my cock is begging for some attention, in case you couldn’t tell.”

I choke on my own saliva at his crass words, the action making my body stir and rub along his length and Exton slaps his hand on my ass, stilling me.

“Electra.” His voice carries a hint of danger in it. “That was a rhetorical comment. Do not give him extra incentive.”

“Y-you…you…”

“Me what?”

Damn it, I can’t come up with anything good enough, or something that won’t sound as desperate as I suddenly feel. Desperate to give him just about anything he wants, and there’s no way I can do that.

Not with Exton. Or anyone else. So, I just throw out, “You are crazy.”

Exton exhales loudly. “Yes, that seems to be the case.” He sighs in resignation that makes no sense to me but before I can say anything else or demand to be taken back to my chair, he slides his fingers into my hair, eliciting a rush of goosebumps through each hair follicle and grips it hard pulling my head up until my eyes meet his hooded ones.

I should scream, slap his hand away or at least be angry with him for treating me so roughly, but instead…I like it.

I’ve never been handled like that. In a way that is not demeaning but possessive. Hot. And it makes my skin heat up.

“Go back to sleep, Electra. Don’t say another word and go to sleep. Please,” he begs with a touch of demand laced in betweenthe words. His eyes beg. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple begs, but his hand on my hair demands and my throat feels dry. Too dry to talk or answer his silent plea.

It’s that look in his eye that I answer to, though. The one that tells me he’s fighting himself right now and I really don’t want to interfere.

Not now. Not yet.

So, I nod, bobbing my head up and down like a doll and lay my head back on his chest. But I still want to know. “How did I end up on top of you?”

Exton takes a deep breath. “I moved us around. I’m not a small guy as you like to say, and I was squishing your legs.”

“It’s not like it matters. I can’t feel them anyway.”

“Yet. You can’t feel them yet.” The conviction in his voice breaks yet another piece inside of me. But I don’t want to break anymore. I have enough cracks in my ice and if he wants to be the one gluing it back maybe I should let him.

Exton

Her breathing evens out after a while as her body relaxes on top of mine, but I’m far away from doing the same. Me and my throbbing cock who is begging to have more, to feel more of her. To sink into her sweet pussy, warm mouth, and tight ass.

He wants it all and he’s not willing to compromise. The fucker has zero cool or an ounce of patience, but my little star is not there yet.

She’s healing, but she’s still holding onto one too many secrets and hurts that keep eating away at her. And as someone who is constantly battling those hungry motherfuckers, I know she won’t move on until they are buried under that thick ice out there.

Alongside mine.

Because it’s time. It’s time for me to fight too and for her…I will.

I still don’t understand how this happened. How she crawled under my skin. Logically, nothing about this makes any fucking sense. I am not normally attracted to girls like Electra and I’m not talking about her wheelchair situation. In fact, I don’t seem to notice it at all, or rather, I don’t see her as disabled or a cripple, despite me calling her that. That’s not why I do it.

No, all I see when I look at Electra Monroe, all I feel, is this insane pull. The need to be next to her, with her, near her—in her. Yeah, I know I’m fucking losing it, tell me something I don’t know, but I can’t stop.

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