Page 37 of Fire on the Ice

We’re hardly here—leaving the Captain with Mrs. Meyers down the hall when we both have to travel—so we don’t need a lot of space. Plus, no matter how much space we have, Blaze sticks to me as though she’s glue when we’re both around. Always touching, cuddling, kissing, groping, biting. I like it.

I like, too, the way she hikes up her skirt to straddle my thighs and threads her hands into my hair at the nape of my neck, dragging me in to kiss. Sometimes when she’s away for so long, I forget what she tastes like. Now I remember, and I want to gorge myself on her for days.

Sliding my hands under her bunched-up skirt, I let them graze her thick thighs higher and higher until I find the sorry excuse for underwear she has on. There really isn’t much to them at all, and it makes me want to tear them off, but that takes too much effort and if I ripped away her underwear every time I wanted to, she wouldn’t have any left. Not that she’d probably mind that anyhow. Instead, I grab her ass cheeks on either side of the flimsy material and pull her to me, rocking my hips up to grind against her.

I’d ask her if she’s tired from her trip, but she’s never too tired for this. Sure, after we fuck, she’ll pass out hard for hours, wake with her hair out of control, and stumble into the kitchen wanting something to eat, but for now . . .

Blaze tugs at the hem of my shirt, and I raise my arms so she can peel it off. After she’s done, I do the same to her until her sports bra is in my face, and her hands are fondling my breasts over and under the lacey thing I’ve got on because I know they drive her crazy. Luckily, hers has a zip in the front, and I’m going to take full advantage of that design feature.

When the zipper’s freed from its tracks, so are her magnificent tits, and I don’t waste any time burying my face in them, breathing in her smell before I cup one and take her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard and using my other hand to press the small of her back. Against my hipbones, her pussy is hot even through her underwear. I can’t even wait anymore. I want inside her. And since she’s mine, I use my free hand to dig into the flimsy fabric, find her clit to rub and circle, delve my finger back toward her core to gather up a bit of moisture to make my path slicker.

She moans against me, and it’s the best sound. My insatiable lover. I look up at her, her head already thrown back, her mouth open, and ask, “Are you going to come for me like this?”

“I can.” Her offer’s accompanied by a crooked smirk that makes me grab her hair and pull. She could use a cut, something I’ll do later after I’ve worn her out. For the moment anyhow.

“You won’t. You’re the one who’s been getting laid regularly for the past month.”

Her eyes widen, and she draws back, looking stung. No, that’s not what I wanted. I honest-to-god didn’t mean it that way at all. “Hey, babe. I’m teasing. I like you being satisfied. I like you calling and telling me about your exploits. I like that even after getting fucked six ways to Sunday, all you have to do is hear my voice to get horny again and we can have phone sex. I am in no way sorry about our arrangement. What I am is horny as hell, because as good as I am with my hands or a vibrator, it’s nothing compared to your mouth.”

She kisses me, and it feels like sweet relief. “You can tell me, you know. If it ever feels bad to you.”

My firebrand doesn’t often look shy, but she does when we talk about these things. Sometimes I have to remind myself this is new for her, too. Uncharted territory even for Blaze, who has experience with every sex act under the sun. Less so with longer-term relationships, and with navigating poly waters with a partner who’s . . . not poly. But I feel as though we’re doing really well. She makes me feel special, and like I come first. And I make her feel safe enough to have us and whomever else she wants.

“I will. And you ask me, you know? Very considerate, very . . . sensitive.”

Okay, so it’s not entirely playing fair to work her clit while we’re talking about this, but I’ll worry about fairness later.

“I’m—ngh—trying.” Blaze squirms on my hand, trying to get my fingers inside her already, but that’s not happening. Yet. “I don’t want to—Christ, woman, I’m trying to be serious. Could you not?”

“Nope. Talk later. I’ve got better ideas for your mouth right now.”

I shove her away playfully, and she takes my cue, backing off my legs to sink to her knees. Then she’s grabbing the waistband of my pants along with my underwear and dragging them over my hips and down my legs, not stopping until she can fling them across the floor. Which seems a little theatrical, but Blaze isn’t one for subtleties.

Since we are very much alone, I hook my legs over the arms of the chair and scoot my ass forward until I’m spread out at the edge of the seat. The better for her to service me. And service me she does, not even having to be asked. No, she goes down as though she’s been waiting weeks for this. Which I suppose she has.

“I love how you smell,” she says from between my thighs. “I can’t go into a produce section without getting soaked because when I smell oranges, I always think of you. Of your sweet, wet cunt.”

Holy hell. All I can see is the top of her bright red head as she goes back to work with her mouth and adds her hands, and, I have to say, this was worth the wait. Sometimes I ask her to tell me about the other people she’s been with while we do this. It was kind of edgy the first time and I wasn’t totally sure I liked it, but it turns out I get ridiculously turned on by hearing about Blaze getting off with other people. I don’t think I’d want to be there or participate, but when she tells me about it in her matter-of-fact way . . . there’s something about it that amplifies my orgasms. But we’ll get to that later, when I’m not so grateful to have her back, on her knees, in my hands, at my feet, and buried between my legs.

I have a great deal of respect for the things Blaze can do with her body, like go ridiculously fast, defy gravity in those turns, wipe out and slam up the boards and get back up again not looking much worse for wear and certainly not having her dedication dimmed, but her mouth is maybe the most skilled part of her, and that is saying something when you’re talking about a SIG athlete.

She licks and sucks, using her lips, tongue, and teeth, and I lay back and enjoy. I’m in no hurry, and she doesn’t appear to be, either, with the leisurely and indulgent way she’s eating me. It’s almost extravagant, but after being without for so long, I suppose I deserve it.

Finally, when I swear to god she’s had her mouth on every centimeter of me at least a dozen times, she focuses on my clit and with broad licks, has me grabbing her hair between my fingers, pulling her face into me and shuddering against her lips. She’s set me on fire once again, and I tell her so.

“Fuck, Blaze, You are so fucking good.”

I buck and rock against her as best I can, and she doesn’t stop, drawing out my climax until the only thing that’s left are the tiniest ripples flowing out from my center.

Finally, I’m sated and collapse, too worn out to even bother closing my legs. I can imagine Blaze with her knees tucked up while she leans her head partly against the upholstered chair and partly against the very inside part of my thigh. I can feel her breath on me as I stroke her hair and try to catch my breath.

Soon enough, though, she’s squirming, and I smile without opening my eyes.

“What’s the matter, babe?”

She nudges me with her nose and it makes me laugh—silently, of course. “You know. Meanie.”

“Me? Mean? No . . .”

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