Page 74 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Her steps slow almost immediately, and I feel her hand tighten over my bicep.

Austin's eyes widen as the rink comes into view—a massive expanse of pristine, gleaming ice that stretches out endlessly under the glow of the overhead lights.

It’s a sight to behold when there’s not a single soul around,and even I take a second to appreciate it.

George, the rink manager, leans casually against the Zamboni, his attention fixed on his cell phone. His thick fingers tap at the screen with a slow deliberation that says he’s in no hurry.

Her gaze flickers from George to the Zamboni, then back to me, her lips parting in disbelief.

“Stop it right now,” she whispers in disbelief. “We are not.”

“Oh, but we are,” I say, my grin widening as I pull her a little closer to the edge of the ice.

She turns her whole body to me, eyes wide and sparkling with a mix of excitement—and disbelief.

“You’rekidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I reply, gesturing toward themassive machine at the same time George realizes he’s no longer alone and begins lumbering toward us.

“Finally,” he grunts, his voice rough and low, like gravel. “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

Burly old shit.

Always a ray of sunshine.

“You know me,” I reply, my tone breezy as I keep Austin close to my side. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

George snorts, giving me a once-over before shifting his gaze to Austin. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s sizing her up, but there’s a faint twitch of amusement in his expression.

“This the reason you’ve been blowing up my phone all week?” he asks, jerking his chin toward her.

“No comment.”

I shoot him a look, but he’s already turned back toward the Zamboni, muttering something under his breath about “kids these days,” and “no respect.”

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he gripes loudly, throwing the words over his shoulder. “Try not to wreck anything.”

George grunts one more time for good measure before trudging off toward the office. His heavy boots stomp against the stairs and he doesn’t bother looking back again, already done with us.

Austin bites back a laugh, her lips twitching. “What a delight.”

“Don’t let it fool you,” I whisper back, smirking. “Deep down, he hates everyone equally.”

“This is a dream come true,” she squeals, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. “I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I don’t even care that I’m in a dress and my boobs are falling out.”

With zero shame, she adjusts the neckline of her dress, tugging it a little higher, her movements carefree.

“They look fine,” I say, fighting the urge to stare. “Better than fine, actually.”

Her tits look so great, especially now that they’re struggling to stay concealed.

LET THEM BREATHE! I say.

She gives another yip, turning her attention back to the Zamboni. “Alright, what’s next? Do we just climb on?”

Climb on…

Images of her on top of me, moaning—riding me—suddenly flood my brain.

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