Page 122 of On Thin Ice

“You’re gonna make me late,” I murmured, my voice hoarse from cheering him on the night before as the Maine Marauders finally eked out a win at home, breaking a ten-game losing streak.

Bell’s teeth grazed my shoulder as he chuckled. “You complaining?” The fingers on his left hand loosened their grip, and he reached around my front to curl tight around my dick. He twisted his wrist, his stroke firm, just the way I liked. “I can always make this go faster if you’d like.”

I fucked into his grip, watching my dick disappear into his fist, the glint of his wedding ring catching my eye. That simple band of gold still made my chest ache every time I saw it.

Every time I remembered that he was mine.

That I was his.

“Nah, no rush,” I said, grinding back against him, chasing that deep, perfect pressure. “Take your time. I want to feel you with me all day.”

He groaned low in his throat, buried his face in the crook of my neck, and bit down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, and Bell dragged his teeth along my nape as his thrusts deepened. His hand never let up, stroking me in perfect time with the punch of his hips.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well.” His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he spoke, that extra bit of sensation causing heat to coil low in my belly, sharp and sweet and inevitable.

I let out a whimper.

“That’s it, E. You gonna come for me, baby?”

“Keep talking like that, and yeah, I am,” I gritted out.

His grip on my dick shifted just a fraction, angling his wrist and squeezing on the upstroke in that way that always undid me. My eyes slammed shut, and a broken sound tore from my throat as the pressure snapped. I came hard, painting the tiles in front of me, my forehead dropping to the wall with a dullthudas I clenched around him.

Bell groaned and fucked me through the aftershocks, his grip on my dick just shy of that point where pleasure veered into pain. Just before it tipped over that invisible line, I tapped his arm, and his hand fell away.

“My turn,” he said, kissing the back of my neck again.

“Give it to me.” I flattened my palms on the wall in front of me, bracing my body as his pace turned rougher.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, his breath ragged, voice frayed at the edges.

“On my face,” I said, pulling myself off him and turning. I lowered myself down, wincing when my knees met hard marble tile.

I wrapped one hand around the base of his dick and settled the other on his thigh. Bell fucked into my fist once, twice, then groaned my name as he came, hot spurts that landed on my waiting tongue, my cheek, splattered across my jaw.

I basked in it—my husband above me, muscles trembling, lips parted, eyes full of wrecked devotion.

He leaned forward, resting one hand against the tile above my head as the other slid gently through my hair. I leaned into his touch as his breathing slowed. After a few seconds, he straightened and offered me a hand.

My knees cracked in protest as he pulled me up, but I didn’t care. I’d stay down on my knees forever worshipping this man if I got to hear him say my name in that wrecked, devoted way he did when he came and have that smile afterward.

We cleaned off quickly, no need for words, just the soft slide of hands over each other’s skin.

He stepped out first, grabbing a bath sheet from the heated rack. When we moved to Maine, Bell hadn’t had many requests about our house, only that we live somewhere he wouldn’t freeze his balls off when he got out of the shower. I’d worked with an architect and local builder to give him the most luxurious bathroom any of us could envision.

I followed him out of the enclosure as he held open a second towel for me. I walked straight into it—into him. His arms came around me, and I buried my face in his shoulder for a beat and breathed him in. Coconut soap and damp, golden skin. I kissed his collarbone. Then again, a little higher.

Bell pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and I kissed him properly, with soft, slow slides of our lips and tongues. Not rushed. Not even all that heated. Just simple affection.

I hadn’t always known how to ask for the things I needed. In many ways, I still didn’t. But this? This, I could do.

He hummed into my mouth, his towel slipping just a little as his fingers curled at my waist.

“I love you,” I murmured.

He smiled against my lips. “I know.”

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