Page 53 of Finally Home

All I can seem to focus on is the cold temperature gliding across my skin. Quickly, it disappears, I assume, melting across my warm skin.

Another clink of ice and then the coldness is there again, this time followed by Olie’s tongue.

The ice cube and his tongue tease my inner thighs, but instead of going to my pussy, he skips my center and goes straight to the other thigh, working his way back down.

I groan in frustration.

“Ollie,” I beg and pray that he will finally give me what I want.

“Yes, baby.” He looks up from between my thighs and has a devilish smirk on his lips. This man knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Please, Ollie, stop teasing me.”

He grabs the cup and pours a few ice cubes into his mouth, swishing them around.What the heck is he doing?

“You want to come?”

“Yes,” I plead, sounding needier than I’ve ever heard my voice.

“Since you begged so nicely.” Ollie drops back between my thighs and drags his tongue—oh shit, his freezing cold tongue—along my pussy before circling my clit.

“Holy fuck.” I squirm against his tongue and the cold temperature. It feels so damn good. His dark chuckle against my skin tells me he knows it, too. I don’t even want to think about where he learned this.

I gasp when his fingers join in on the assault on my pussy.Did he soak his fingers in the ice, too?

There’s a noise beside me that sounds maybe like Ollie was setting the glass down, but then he closes the distance between us and picks up the pace, fingering me.

“That’s it, baby. Squeeze my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock.”

I bite down on my bottom lip when he inserts a second finger, and a whimper slips from my lips when he inserts a third.

“I want to hear your screams. We’re all alone, I promise.”

The orgasm hits me like a fireworks show on the Fourth of July, and I can’t keep my screams to myself. My hands reach for anything to hold on to and end up knocking the glass over with a loud shatter.

Everything happens all at once.

Footsteps rush down the hallway.

The lights of the bar flick on, nearly blinding us.

“What the fuck is going on?” I look over to see Rhyland standing there with a frying pan in the air, ready to strike. This whole situation would be quite comical, reminding me of a cartoon if I weren’t sitting here, legs still spread, my release dripping onto the bar top and the remains of my shredded underwear somewhere at our feet.

“What the fuck is right, Rhy?” Ollie growls. He quickly adjusts my dress and helps me down off the bar, carefully to avoid the broken glass at our feet. He twists to face his best friend and protectively scoots me behind him. If I were actually thinking clearly, I’d have been able to laugh and tell him I’m pretty sure his best friend doesn’t mean us any harm.

“I thought you left already.”

Rhyland huffs out a deep breath and sets the pan down on the corner of the bar. “I did. But I couldn’t stand the silence at home, so I came back to test out some new recipes. I had just walked into the kitchen when I heard a scream and glass shattering. Sorry for thinking that someone was breaking in or, even worse, hurt.”

“Should I be worried that you carry around a cast-iron skillet? What were you going to do? Go all Wilma fucking Flintstone on me?” Ollie chuckles, and it vibrates through my body where I’m hiding behind him. Seems we both think alike about the situation.

Oh my God, I can’t believe this situation is real and more so that I’m involved in it. Can someone actually die from embarrassment?

“I don’t fucking carry around—” He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I grabbed the first thing I could. Be glad that it was the pan and not a damn knife. I think the bigger issue is you using the bar for your needs. Do you realize how many sanitation laws you broke?”

When I take a peek at the bar, I find wet spots glistening on the water and water dripping on the floor where shattered glass and melted ice cubes are. What a mess.Why did I let him talk me into this? No matter how hot it was.

“Fucking relax, will ya?” Ollie must feel my nerves when my grip on the back of his T-shirt tightens. He reaches behind me and pulls me to his side. I can’t look Rhyland in the eye, so I bury my face in Ollie’s T-shirt. “You’re freaking Holl out.”

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