Page 51 of On Thin Ice

His eyes were wide and unguarded, blazing with something so raw it punched the air right out of my lungs. Trust. Want. Adoration. All of it laid bare for me to see, like he wasn’t afraid to let me hold it in my hands.

Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see.

I groaned and leaned down to kiss him, deep and messy, my thrusts picking up speed as he sucked my tongue into his mouth.

“Right there. Yeah. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” When he reached between us and stroked his cock, I buried myself deep, grinding against his sweet spot with every thrust, watching watched him fall apart beneath me, his mouth dropping silently open as he came, his dicks spurting all over his skin.

The sight dragged me over the edge.

I shouted his name as I spilled inside him, every muscle in my body locking up as my orgasm crashed through me in wave after wave of pure bliss.

When every last drop of cum had been wrung out of me, I slumped forward, breathing hard, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

Bell’s hands stroked up and down my back in lazy, comforting circles.

“You good, baby?” he murmured, his voice slurred with exhaustion and pleasure.

I nodded, too shattered to speak.

I was more than good.

I was fucking amazing.

I pulled out slowly, and Bell groaned. I watched, hypnotized, as his hole fluttered and my cum started leaking out of him, thick and obscene. Before I could move away, he reached between his legs, pressing two fingers to his ass and lazily pumping it back inside himself, a deep, satisfied sound rumbling from his chest.

“Jesus, Bell.”

He cracked one eye open, cheeks flushed, and gave a lazy, blissed-out grin.

“What is it with you and … that?” I asked, notching my chin to gesture down where he was fucking my cum back into him.

Bell shrugged like what he was doing—what he’d done to me the night before—was something everyone did. Admittedly, I didn’t have a lot of experience, but I’d never heard anyone talking aboutthis. “I dunno, man. I just love cum. Like, I’m obsessed with it.”

I huffed out a laugh, still dazed from the sight of him trying to push my cum back into his body.

“Any other kinks I should know about?”

Bell slid his fingers free and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, filthy moan.

Heat punched low in my gut as my dick twitched, trying to come back to life. I shook my head, grinning. “Fuck. Why is that so hot?”

He laughed, soft and hoarse, and then lifted his arms, making a gimme motion with his hands. “C’mere, E. I’m a snuggler, too, if you haven’t figured that out already.”

I stretched out next to him, and he immediately pulled me into his chest, one leg thrown over mine, his hand smoothing slow, lazy circles over my ribs.

“You’re something, all right,” I said, resting my forehead against the warm curve of his shoulder.

He kissed my temple, the touch of his lips on my skin sweet and lingering, a stark contrast to the filthy things we’d just done to each other. “My therapist says I’m touch-starved, didn’t get enough of it when I was a kid. Now, I crave it.”

I thought about that, thought about how touch had always been a currency in my life—a reward for good behavior, a weapon for punishment, a thing I was expected to endure but never crave. The memory of my father’s hand, always heavy with disappointment or anger, flashed through my mind.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice dropping low. “Makes sense.”

Bell’s hand stroked lower, dragging over the curve of my ass before settling on my hip, his thumb making idle circles against my skin.

“I could kiss for hours,” he said casually. “Kinda obsessed with it, too.”

I lifted my head, raising a brow at him.

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