Page 41 of On Thin Ice

I shuddered, squeezing around him greedily, milking every last drop of his release as aftershocks rippled through me.

When he collapsed on top of me a few seconds later, boneless and trembling, I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him like I could keep him there forever. His heart hammered against mine, our pulses gradually slowing in tandem.

My eyes fell closed, and through the haze of euphoria, I knew one thing for certain: I’d caught feelings.

Big fucking feelings.

I’d never felt like more of a cliché.

Bell pulled out slowly, gently, like he couldn’t bear to hurt me even a little. The sensation made me wince, oversensitive nerves firing wildly. His cum leaked out of me, hot and messy between my cheeks, trailing down toward the sheets.

I blinked my eyes open when I felt him kneeling between my legs, the mattress dipping with his movement. He gripped my thighs and pushed them open, holding me wide, my hole completely exposed to his inspection.

I tried to squirm away, heat flooding my face, but he pressed my legs harder into my chest. “Don’t you fucking move,” he growled. “I want to see it.”

“What the fuck?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

“Fuck, Ethan,” Bell whispered almost reverently. “Look at your pretty hole.” His gaze dragged over every raw, ruined inch of me as tangible as a caress.

And even though a part of me wanted to hide from his inspection, another part—dark and needy and newly awake—wanted him to look. To see what he’d done to me. To get off on it. The contradiction confused me.

I hadn’t known I could be turned on by something like this. I’d spent so long being ashamed of everything I thought I wanted that I hadn’t ever let myself learn what that actually was. Hadn’t let myself imagine anything more than quick, furtive fucks with my eyes closed the entire time, guilt waiting on the other side.

Bell dragged two fingers through the mess leaking out of me. My body jolted, and I choked on a sob as he slid those fingers back inside, fucking his cum into me with slow, shallow thrusts. The stretch burned slightly, my body tender and used, but the discomfort only heightened the pleasure, sharpened it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting with sinful care. “So fucking greedy for it.”

A broken sound tore out of me, half-humiliated, half-wild with how badly his filthy praise turned me on. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Didn’t know how I could feel so filthy, so debased, and still feel safe.

“Do you trust me?” His fingers stilled inside me, waiting for my answer. His tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, leaving it glistening in the dim light.

Did I trust him, this man who in just shy of a month had seemingly brought me back to life?

“Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I trust you.”

Someone else might find the idea preposterous, but Bell and I were connected in a way a lot of people couldn’t understand. We had learned to read each other’s bodies on the ice, predict one another’s movements, and know what was going through our heads in any given moment. We relied on each other for our success, we suffered together in defeat. I’d given him my body, taken parts of his in return.

If that wasn’t trust, I didn’t know what was.

“Good,” he hummed, raising his eyes up to meet mine as he dropped onto his stomach, licking a broad stripe over my cum-filled hole.

I cried out, jerking against his hold, but his hands pinned me in place, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of my inner thighs. He moaned against me, like he was savoring the taste of himself mixed with me.

Then his tongue began fucking into into me, slow and filthy, each shallow breach sending sparks shooting up my spine.

“Bell, fuck, fuck, I …” I sputtered, words failing me as my vocabulary was reduced to his name and broken pleas.

He sucked on my hole until I was shaking and felt on the verge of another orgasm, though I didn’t think I had anything left to give, only sliding away once I’d been reduced to nothing but a mess of whimpering flesh, his chin wet and glistening. He cupped my jaw, his thumb tugging gently on my lower lip, prompting me to open. When I did, he kissed me, deep and thorough, messily feeding his cum into my mouth.

A small, judgmental voice at the back of my head told me I should find this revolting, but I didn’t. I wanted this. Wanted everything Bell gave me. I sucked on his tongue, greedy for all of it. My need was visceral and overwhelming. The taste of us mingling together, —salt and musk and earthiness—flooded my senses, blending into something I felt deep in my bones.

When he finally pulled back, he wiped his mouth and kissed my forehead, my cheeks, and the tip of my nose, murmuring soft, broken words that sounded likebeautiful,perfect, andmine.

Every inch of my body felt tender and well-used, muscles aching in places I hadn’t known could ache. But beneath the physical exhaustion was something else, something I wasn’t ready to name but couldn’t deny.

“You did so fucking good,” he murmured, brushing sweaty hair back from my forehead with such tenderness it made my throat tight. His eyes were soft now, the hunger replaced by something that looked dangerously like affection.

I clung to him, too shattered to say anything, too overwhelmed to even think. My body trembled with aftershocks, small tremors running through me at irregular intervals.

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