Page 42 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

In the morning lit serenity of my bedroom, the air thickens with anticipation as Elliot lays out the array of toys he chose from my collection—the sight of each one gets me more hot and bothered than the last. He approaches with a sly grin, holding the remote to the vibrating toy he cups to my center with his palm.

"Right now, I'm in control," he murmurs, his voice a deep, thrilling promise.

As he clicks the remote, waves of pleasure course through me, drawing a gasp that fills the quiet room. I writhe under his watchful gaze, the sensations building and ebbing at his whim. His eyes never leave mine as he varies the intensity, pushing me to the edge and pulling me back.

"Tell me when you need more," he teases, the power of my release held tightly in his hands, making it clear that my peaks and valleys are his to command.

“Please, Elliot. I need more. Give me more.” I cry out, pressing my hips into his hand.

Without releasing the pressure on my clit, he uses his other hand to grab the dildo of his choice. Turning it on, he rubs it though the arousal dripping down my slit. He teases his way down to my other entrance before filling my cunt with it and cranking up the vibration. My hips jut up with the intensity but his palm holding the other toy to my clit presses me back down. Pressing my hips open wider with his elbows, Elliot works me with both the toys in unison.

His intense gaze sends adrenaline shooting through my veins as he whispers commands. His fingers dance expertly with the toys on my skin. I can feel him everywhere, pushing me tothe brink, controlling my release with a precision that leaves me breathless and desperate.

"Not yet," he murmurs each time I am close, his voice authoritative, dripping with desire.

The anticipation builds, each denied climax making the next wave stronger. I am at his mercy, caught in a delicious torment of delay and desperation, every nerve ending screaming for the release that he holds just out of reach. Each time pushing me to new heights of pleasure. His control is absolute, and in this moment, I am utterly, willingly his.

After an orgasm to end all others, I lie breathless, our bodies slick with sweat. As I catch my breath, I look over at Elliot, a new realization dawning on me. Elliot might not be that bad after all. The thought is terrifying and exciting all at once, and I am not sure what to do with it. For now, I decide to simply enjoy the moment, letting the uncertainty of the future fade away.

As the hours pass, the intensity of our earlier encounter gives way to a softer intimacy. We spend the rest of the day lying in bed naked, exploring each other's bodies with gentle touches and lingering kisses. Every caress, every whispered word, feels like a new discovery. I trace the lines of his muscles with my fingertips, marveling at the contrast between his strength and the subtle vulnerabilities he doesn’t realize he is showing me. His hands move over my skin, mapping out places that make me shiver with pleasure. In those quiet movements, all that matters is the connection this moment gives us.

Chapter 33

A glaring light shines into my closed eyelids, bringing with it a conscious stream of thought. I bolt straight upright, immediately missing the warmth of Ziggy's body next to me, but I have bigger issues. Shit, I'm supposed to meet the team in less than 10 minutes. We are having a team breakfast at the hotel before heading to practice. Tabarnak! I'm not going to make it in time. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, promising to return as soon as I can. She mumbles something in her sleep, but I can't make out the words as I throw on my clothes and hightail it out the door.

The team breakfast is a blur of chatter and clinking utensils on plates, my mind already back in Ziggy's apartment, ready to lose myself in her once more. Practice is even worse. I struggle to keep my focus on drills and strategy. Coach Wilder notices my head isn't in it, giving me a snap out of it look and an unnecessary swat to my helmet before shouting, “Get your head out of your ass, St. Germain.”

I manage to pull it together long enough to get through the practice. We have another practice this afternoon before we leave for North Carolina, but that gives me plenty of time during the day. I hop back on the bus and listen to the coaches when needed, but bide my time until we get back to the hotel. As soon as we arrive and are dismissed, I am out the door. My honest intention is to make my way back to Ziggy.

The secrecy of our arrangement adds a layer of excitement, but these few days in Atlanta have made it weigh heavier in a way it never has before. Keeping everything under wraps is starting to feel like a burden. A storm cloud of thoughts interrupts my progress towards Ziggy's apartment. Ziggy is something special. She is my something special, and the fact that some giant douchecanoe would not only dump her but then play her, only to leave her behind in a bar, just doesn’t sit well with me. I didn’t necessarily ask Ziggy where the douchecanoe works for a specific reason. But that information sits in the forefront of my mind this morning as I pull out of the hotel. I can't shake the lingering anger from the night before. The thought of her stranded, vulnerable, and alone makes my blood boil.

With my GPS on, guiding me to where his office is, it doesn’t take me long to get to my destination. He makes it even easier for me when I spot him exiting the coffee shop on the first floor of his office building. The quintessential clean-cut asshole, finance bro. I approach him, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You," I growl, grabbing his attention.

The blonde douchecanoe turns, surprised and then wary of a stranger like me. "Who the hell are you?"

I close in, lowering my voice dangerously. "Who I am doesn't matter." As I step to him, my sheer size towers over him. "If you ever think about coming near Ziggy again, don’t. I will hunt you down in these streets if you do. Do you understand me?"

He blanches, his eyes widening with fear. "Hey, man, I didn't mean—"

"Save it," I cut him off. "She deserves better than you. Stay the fuck away from her."

Leaving him there, visibly shaken, I feel a grim satisfaction. Our little chat should keep him from bothering Ziggy again anytime soon. I head back to her place, feeling a sense of protectiveness I haven't felt in a long time. She is becoming more than just a fling, more than just an indulgence. However, I push those thoughts aside because, at the end of the day, until I give my balls a tug and actually tell her how I feel, there is nothing to share with the world. What I have with Ziggy is just for me, and I will keep her safe, no matter what.

An adrenaline rush flows through me, replacing the righteous fury. With my important impromptu errand now complete, I rush back to Ziggy's apartment to make the most of the free time I have before my next practice. The urgency in my steps is barely contained as I make it to her door. I knock loudly and hear her yell, "Come in," faintly from inside.

As I open the door, I catch sight of her wrapped up in a blanket, her laptop on her lap. Her brows are furrowed as she concentrates on something. As I get closer to her I can hear the commentary from one of last night's games. This girl is nothing short of amazing. She is working so hard to be the best that shecan be, but she needs a break. And a break, I am going to give her.

I sit down on the couch next to her. I don't bother with words. I sweep her into my arms, my lips crashing against hers. The intensity of my complicated emotions translates into a fevered need to claim her, to remind both of us who she belongs to now. I lift her so that she is straddling me, wrapping her legs around me as I stand. I spread desperate kisses down her neck and chest as I walk us into her bedroom. Adjusting one hand under her ass, I use the other to help her get her little tank top off, freeing her tits for my mouth to capture.

I place her down gently on the bed, pressing her shoulders down so that she is laid out before me. My hands rake down her sides, fingers gripping the edge of her yoga pants as I pull them off her. I toss them to the side and stand back for a moment, just admiring how beautiful she is before following through with one of my brilliant ideas. I walk to her closet, find what is probably a very expensive scarf and bring it back to the bed.

"Do you trust me?" I ask her, wishing on anything and everything that she says yes because my cock is rock hard at this point.

She nods energetically. I take the fabric and tie it around her eyes. I test that it isn't too tight, but also that she can't peek out from underneath it. Once I'm satisfied with it, I take my time setting the rest of the scene, lighting a few of the massage candles that she has scattered around her room. I quickly grab a cup of ice cubes from the freezer and return to stand beside her and watch her wiggle in anticipation. I take in the way her nipples harden under my gaze, how her thighs shake as she waits for what I do next.

I pull my t-shirt off, throw it behind me, and unbutton my jeans, keeping them in place to keep my aching erection contained for now. I grab an ice cube from the cup and kneel on the bed next to her. The lack of sight makes her jittery with anticipation. I gently pepper kisses down her neck and between her cleavage, then take the ice cube and run it down the same path. The cold feeling stings my hand as I move down her body. Popping the ice cube in my mouth, I take a nipple in my mouth, swirling the cube around in my mouth. With my other hand, I play with the other breast, so no one feels left out.

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