Page 117 of Icy Pucking Play

“I’d like nothing more,” I respond, leaning back on the huge couch, ready for him. He rolls on top of me and positions himself at my entrance, his cock poised and ready. With one swift thrust, he's inside me, filling me completely.

I cry out, my nails digging into his back as he begins to move. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against mine with each thrust. I can feel every inch of him, hitting all the right spots, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

“Holy hell, baby,” he groans. "I can barely hold back."

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me. "Harder, Evan," I pant. "Fuck me harder."

He complies, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more intense. The sound of our flesh slapping together fills the room, punctuated only by our moans and gasps.

"You feel so perfect around my cock, Sophie," he growls, his voice low and rough. "So tight and wet."

His dirty talk sends a surge of heat through me, and I can feel my orgasm building, my body tensing as Evan drives me closer and closer to the brink. He leans down, capturing my mouth in a fierce kiss.

“Let go for me, Sophie," he growls against my lips. “Show this cock how good you can come, baby.”

And with that, I come hard, my body convulsing around him, my nails digging into his flesh. Evan follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside me as he finds his own release.

"Sophie," he groans, his body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. "You're goddamned incredible."

We sink into a heap together on the couch, a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts. After putting our clothes back on, Evan pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight.

He gets up briefly to unlock and open the door.

Sitting back down next to me, he pulls me close again. "I love you, gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender.

I look up at him, my heart swelling with emotion. "I love you too. More than anything."

I look around at the evidence of our lives intertwining: my books on the shelves, my terrible horror movie collection taking up half the DVR space. And more importantly: my lucky pen on his desk, my photos mixed with his on the walls, my life completely tangled with his.

"When did that happen?" I wonder aloud, looking at our perfectly merged lives.

“What?”

I motion. “This. Me. You. Us.”

"Probably around the time you color-coded my kitchen cabinets."

"That was organizational efficiency!"

"You organized my spice rack alphabetically."

"It's an effective system! Natalia and I can find all the spices now. And she loves to help me cook."

"Speaking of Natalia," he says, pausing the movie, "she asked me something interesting today."

"Oh?" I shift to face him. "Was it about the new save I've been teaching her? Because she's really getting…"

"She asked why you don't live here officially."

I freeze with a handful of popcorn halfway to my mouth. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." He runs a hand through his hair—his nervous tell. "She made some pretty compelling arguments."

"Did she now?"

"Mmhmm. Something about how you're here every night anyway. How your apartment is basically just storage at this point. How..." He clears his throat, "how we're happier when you're here."

My heart does a funny flip. "We?"

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