Page 18 of Fire on the Ice

I’m grinding against her with my pelvis from behind—between that and the four hands that are toying with her, does it make her feel as if she’s got more than one lover? What I wouldn’t give to make a Maisy sandwich with some other woman. But I don’t think Maisy would be into that. She’s too private, too secretive. It makes me happy in some ways, that she trusts me enough to share this with me and not so many other people, but sad for her as well. How much more fun could she have if she loosened up a bit?

But for right now, I don’t want her loose. I want her twisted up and tight with wanting, tensed for an impending climax, so I start to murmur the filthiest things I can think of in her ear while I make urgent circles around her clit with one hand, and frig her with the other.

“You like that, Mais? Getting finger-fucked in your tight pussy while you play with your own tits? Spread out like a fucking centerfold with your cunt on display? You’re so goddamn shameless. Are you going to shout for me when you come, dirty girl? I want to hear you. Not just feel you clench around my fingers. I want your noises that you make when I’ve fucked you into oblivion.”

“Fucking hell.” Her breathy, just-above-a-whisper mutter only barely gets out before I feel it: that sexy as fuck tightness of her body that tells me she’s going to lose it, that she’s right on the edge, and all I have to do is push her over. So I pinch her clit while I crook a finger up to her G-spot, and she’s gone. Gone into shuddering, crying out, pussy-contracting orgasm. I feel it around my fingers, and the tremors ripple through her whole quaking body. And yeah, she let me hear it, these barely human noises, and so loud. Some curses and blasphemies, but even better, my name. “Fuck, yes, Blaze, fuck me, fuck me. I’m coming, so hard. Don’t stop, never stop.”

Which of course she doesn’t mean, but it takes her a good few minutes to be lying limp against me, her hands flopped outward and her legs sprawled as if she doesn’t give a fuck about what the world thinks of Maisy Harper. It takes her a while to find her breath, and as she does, she dreamily strokes my thighs and nuzzles her face into my shoulder as though she could fall asleep right here. I wouldn’t mind, except I’m practically vibrating with my own need. But I’ll give her this; a few moments of peace to enjoy her satisfaction, to be completely unraveled and satiated.

Yeah, I did that.

Maisy

Blaze makes a really good pillow. I mean, yeah, she’s also a phenomenal lover. She’s got me practically comatose after some fun soapy times in the shower followed by a really quite thorough fingerbang, so bushed—heh—that I’m totally content to laze in her lap, which is something I never do. Cuddles aren’t so much my jam, because it seems like asking for too much. I’ve done my job, gotten what I came for, and now I should stop wasting people’s time.

And yet . . . Blaze is showing no inclination whatsoever to kick me out. She is, in fact, holding me, her arms wrapped around my waist. Nothing like her crazy strong thighs, but her forearms are substantial enough on their own, weighty across my midsection, like they’re telling me to stay. I can do that. For now.

I drowse for a bit, feeling sated and relaxed, and not freaking out about what’s ahead in the coming days. Going over what I need to do, but not fretting overly. It’s not as though the shelf life of a figure skater is very long, especially for women, so there’s a better than 90 percent chance that this is it for me. Well, that whole not-worrying thing is over.

Lucky for me, I have something else I can focus on for a bit before I have to run off to dinner with my teammates. Her name is Blaze, she’s hot as fuck, and she’s been waiting so patiently underneath me that her head must be ready to explode, because forbearance isn’t exactly her middle name.

“Blaze?”

“Yeah?”

Oh, bless her for trying to sound normal when she is likely thirsting for an orgasm. “Did you happen to bring any, um, accessories with you?”

There’s a pause, and I can practically smell the smoke from the thought fires stoking in her brain:Accessories? Like earrings? Hair elastics? A motherfucking scarf? What are you on about, Harper?

And then her breath comes out in a hot rush alongside my face. “Oh,accessories.You’re too cute, Harper. If you would have said sex toys, I would’ve known what you were talking about. I thought you meant like a hat.”

Yeah, my face heats up a bit. Curse the breakdown between my filthy mind and my prudish mouth. But the thing is, I could never get reprimanded for my thoughts, only for my actions, and especially those anyone else saw, so maybe this is my release valve. We don’t need to talk about my strange relationship with sexuality and showmanship and modesty, nope.

“To be fair, you would look absolutely droolworthy in a fedora, but yes, that’s what I meant.”

There’s a squeeze around my middle.

“Say it, Maisy.”

Oh, please, no.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. You know what I mean, so what’s the point?”

She squeezes me tighter, and her fingers curl, as if she’s getting ready to tickle me, and if that starts, well, I am a goner.

“I want to hear you say it because it’ll be fun. It will make my entire day. Please? Please, Mais, with a cherry on top? I’ll do anything you want.”

“I don’t think I could handle anything else right now.” My grumble is met by a nip of my ear, and a suck at my lobe, and Christ, how is it this woman can infuse me with desire so easily? “Besides, it’s your turn, right? Wouldn’t you rather get off than hear me say”—sex toys—“that?”

“Pfft.Not a chance. I can stroke myself off no problem, and after your performance, it’s not going to take me long. But hearing Maisy Harper the ice princess talk about sex toys? Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

If she were someone else, I’d think she might be lying, but she’s Blaze. She totally would shove me off her lap and play with herself until she climaxed. I wouldn’t have any part in it, and it would only be my own damnable fault. Which gives me an idea, because there’s now something I want badly. Very badly.

“Fine. I will make you a deal.”

“I like bargains.” She says this as she runs her lips and her teeth over my shoulder, and it’s enough to make me want to drop my head back and let her pleasure me again. And again. And again. But sadly, I don’t have all the time in the world, and now there’s something I want more than another orgasm.

“I think you’ll like this one a lot. How about, if I say it—”

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