Page 17 of Fire on the Ice

She smirks at me. “Did you actually read the article and not just look at the pictures?”

“I did.” Of course I did. As if I wouldn’t scramble for any detail about her.Pfft.But she doesn’t need to know that I read the article almost as much as I rubbed one out while looking at the pictures. This is not the point. “And you said something—”

“That’s what she said?” She snorts and it’s hilarious but eyeroll-inducing at the same time. I don’t give in to her baiting, though. Now I’m fishing for information.

“You said something about being . . . polyamorous?”

She nods and looks straight ahead. “True story.”

“What . . . what does that mean?”

Blaze slides a glance in my direction, likeseriously?

I cut her off before she can direct me toletmegooglethatforyou.“I mean, anyone can read the Wikipedia page, but it’s kind of confusing.”

She nods again, but looks more comfortable, her stride evening out and her body more fluid. “It’s confusing for people who’re poly, too. I don’t think any two people have exactly the same definition. I mean, basically, polyamory is about being in intimate relationships with more than one person at a time. The shape and content of them vary hugely, but the most important part is that everyone knows and is cool with it.”

I could ask her more questions, like how this works for her in particular and not solely as a general thing that happens in the world, but we’ve reached the building her suite is in, and what the hell is the point, really? It’s not as though we’re going to be together long enough for this to be an issue anyhow, and I should make the best use of the time I have with her, which sure as hell doesn’t mean talking.

Apparently she doesn’t think so, either, using her keycard to open the door and gesturing me in with a lascivious smile. “After you, hot stuff.”

Damn straight after me.

Chapter Eight

Blaze

Twenty-five minutes later finds me in my suite’s shower—thank you, Phoebe, for whatever (or whoever) it is you’re doing—pressing Maisy up against the tile with three fingers buried to the hilt in her pussy. She’s facing the wall, and her hands are pressed with her fingers spread wide, and her head dropped back against my shoulder. She’s so fucking hot.

As much as I love this, though, it’s not conducive to getting her all slicked up. You’d think water should equal wet, and it does in a way, but not the slippery glide of a woman’s arousal. Not as good. So I slip my fingers out of her, smack her on her tight ass as I bite her shoulder.

“Out you get, bathing beauty. I can’t make you come like I want in here.”

The noise she lets out is one of frustration but also giving in, because who wants to settle for a substandard orgasm? No one, especially not someone who is well-acquainted with exactly how much pleasure our bodies can produce when they’re smashed together in a particular way.

Out of the small shower, we dry off quick, fast, and in a hurry, and then she’s towing me over to the bed. Eager beaver. Heh.

As much as I usually enjoy her taking the lead, I put on the brakes. “Hey, hey. I thought for once this could be my show.”

She rolls her eyes, but gives in with a “fine.”

I’m not going to make her sorry for giving up control for a while. Never make anyone sorry for something you’d like to do again.

I sit on the bed with my back against the wall, raise my knees slightly, and then pat my lap. “Come here.”

She eyes me suspiciously, as though she doesn’t trust my motives, but, come on, my motives are to get her off. What is not good about that? Nothing. Since she clearly needs more convincing, I wave her over with a hand and an exasperated look on my face. “Mais, come on, please? I promise it’ll be fun.”

She purses those pink lips of hers, and sighs, but does as I’ve asked, and soon enough, she’s sitting on my lap with her back against my chest, and I’m urging her legs to bend and spread to give me access. It’s easy to nudge them a bit farther open with my knees. When I do, she gives a half-grunt, half-squeak, and it makes the corner of my mouth curl up. Oh, Miss Harper, I’ve got you precisely where I want you.

I have to play with her clit some before the good kind of wet is back—even while her damp head rests against my shoulder. Soon, though, the dancing of my fingers on and around that sensitive bundle of nerves makes her slick and ready as ever. Her hands have been to her sides, but now I’m wondering why. They could be put to much better use.

“Play with your tits.” My instructions aren’t met with a protest, but with quick compliance, her hands practically flying from where they’ve been tangled in the bedsheets to her chest. Her back arches away from me a bit as she takes her breasts in her hands and starts to manipulate them. Unfortunately, this position doesn’t allow me to see precisely what she’s doing—which frankly, is a crying shame—but I can imagine it, so I do. Oh yes, I do. Picture us doing this in front of a mirror sometime so I can see all of her, the faces she makes as I drive her crazy. Would she close her eyes and let her head drop back even farther, or would she brazenly make eye-contact with my reflection in the glass? The second one, for sure. Those dark brown eyes staring back at me from under heavy lids and her dark fringe of lashes, with pink high on her cheeks as she kneads her tits or pinches her pinky-brown nipples. Holy shit.

It’s not the best angle, but I can still put my other hand to good use. Maisy had liked the penetration I offered earlier while we were under the spray of the shower, and there’s no reason I can’t give it to her again. My own cunt is feeling swollen and soaked and empty, and my tits are heavy pressed against her back, because this is turning me on like whoa, but this is her time and I’ll take my turn. Patience isn’t always my strong suit—okay, hardly ever—but I believe I’ll get mine. She won’t even have to do much work given how fucking horny I am, how hot I am for her.

I’m working her clit with the middle finger of one hand, faster and lighter than I would my own, and then slip two fingers inside her. Hot and slippery, the feel of her is incredible. If there’s a place I’d rather have my fingers than inside Maisy Harper, I can’t think of where that might be.

Given that I know her, her body, and there was a shit ton of foreplay from the walk over here to the shower hijinks, I’ve got her revved up pretty good, and she’s handling herself in a way that gets her off, it’s not so long until she’s panting, the back of her ribcage heaving against me in a way that rubs my own hard nipples.

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