Page 11 of Ice Block
“You are so beautiful taking my cock like this.” And she is. Unbelievably beautiful. Drizzling more lube over us both, I slide in more, almost fully inside her now. She groans in the most delightful way.God, I could get used to this.I shake my head again.Focus on the ass, Vladi. Focus. On. The. Ass.I pause as I let her adjust to my size, our hips flush. “You’re doing so good. Look at you,lisichka, taking all of me.”
I growl, dangerously close to unleashing my full strength as I caress her cheeks before moving up to her hips. I move slowly to start, then gradually pick up speed. I match her thrust, gliding into her again and again. I grab a fist full of her hair, pulling it toward me. She yelps as I give her hair a tug, forcing her body to bend tomy desire, but I know she likes this. I know because she now has one hand reaching back to touch herself. Oh, fucking hell…she’s not rubbing her clit. I slow my pace as my pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out everything else. She’s…she’s…
“Are you finger fucking your cunt?” My head swims, every ounce of focus on the woman laid before me. “Fuck, I…I can feel it. Holy mother Russia.”
“I wanted to feel that cock in my ass,” she teases, stroking her inner wall.
I unleash a primal scream as I pound into her. Hard. Fast. Thrusting so deep I see stars. I can’t take anymore. Her heat. Her cries. Everything about her overwhelms my senses. My balls tighten and with one more thrust, I find my release, bruising my hips against hers. The only thing better would be fucking this woman bare. A deep exhale releases from my chest, warmth humming through me. Maggie collapses on the bed, looking exhausted but thoroughly taken care of. I soak in the moment, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. Seeing the most insatiable woman I’ve ever met completely spent makes me feel like I just won Olympic gold.
I walk to the side of the bed she’s laying on, kissing her cheek. “Don’t move,lisichka. I’ll go clean up, then I’m coming back to fuck those beautiful tits.”
Maggie mumbles, her face planted on the pillow, “I’m not going anywhere, Wolfie.”
I quickly take care of business, finding Maggie fast asleep as I return. Her chocolate hair is a complete mess from our activities. She’s adorably curled up on her side, too tired to even pull the covers over her, leaving the voluptuous curves of her body on full display. Her ass, her hips, her thighs, those beautiful breasts, looking so full while stacked on one another as they rise and fall with her every breath. My cock aches to slide between them,already hardening with excitement. I’ve been staring too long, but I can’t move. I’m frozen, captivated by the way she looks – peaceful, serene. My throat tightens knowing I’m the one who brought her to this state of euphoria.Why am I so transfixed by this woman?I stalk over to the bed, climbing in beside her, trying to nudge her awake for another round. She grumbles a little, then grabs my hand, pulling it tight against her chest. Somehow, in her sleep, she has intertwined our fingers. Her hands are soft, warm, so perfect in mine. I rub my thumb along the side of hers, feeling her every exhale graze across my skin. Then I hear it. The cutest little snore. A slight smile softens my face. I guess we are done for tonight. This woman is,fuck, she is perfection. She is holding my hand, and I…I…
My chest tightens.
An ache like nothing I’ve felt before.
I can’t catch my breath.
I rip my hand from hers, stumbling away from the bed until my back hits the chill of her door.
I have to get out of here.
Now.
9
maggie
Sun cracks through the windows of my bedroom like a laser beam straight to my unbelievably dry eyes.Shit,did I forget to take my contacts out?My head pounds and I feel like I got hit by a truck. Maybe I had a little too much bourbon last night. At least I feel nice and taken care of. Rolling over, I reach for the beast of a man that fucked me senseless last night. Tapping my hand on the pillows, the blanket, and finally squinting my eyes open the tiniest bit, I find the other side of my bed…empty. My heart sinks.Maybe he’s in the bathroom?I log roll myself out of bed, taking note of my room. Fabric from my dress is strewn across the floor, a condom wrapper sits on the nightstand, one of my shoes is sitting sideways in front of my dresser with the other peeking out from under my bed. Putting on my robe, I dodge the items on the floor, too damn tired to pick any of it up now, and head to the bathroom.
Empty.
I check the living room.
Empty.
Kitchen. Spare bedroom. Spare bath.
All empty.
I swallow hard as the same tears from yesterday rise to the surface.Goddammit.I’m tired, my head is pounding, and my heart is in the pit of my stomach. Turning in a slow circle, I finally accept my apartment is empty. Truly, fully, completely empty. I know we agreed this was for one night, but he just…left. No goodbye. No note. Nothing. Even some sort of bullshit line like, “Hey this was fun,” would’ve been better than him leaving without a word.
It's not like I haven’t hooked up with someone knowing it was only going to be for one night. I’ve gotten used to pretending that’s all I want. Quick. Easy. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, no strings attached. But the dull ache in my chest for somethingmorehas always gnawed at me. Like the vase on my bookshelf that just sits empty, collecting dust, and waiting for something it was meant to hold.
I see my friends in steady relationships with their inside jokes, shared grocery lists, and weekend routines. I see their peace and their joy, and I’m happy for them. But at night, when I’m alone, I find myself wishing I had someone to come home to. Someone who sees all the chaos that comes with the Maggie James VIP package and decides to stay.
I’ve been called ‘too much’ more times than I can count. Too loud. Too driven. Too unwilling to bow down before someone with a giant ego to fit into their girlfriend-sized box. I don’t want to be someone’s other half. I want to be theirequal.I’d almost given up. I didn’t think that person existed.
Until last night.
I slump onto my couch, finally allowing myself to let go of all the sorrow I’ve been burying deep. Bile rises in my throat knowing I fucking signed myself up for this. I mean, heliterallytold me before we even got started last night he doesn’t do relationships.
But for some reason, the four chamber organ in my ribcage, whoI affectionately call Melissa Joan Heart, is being a bitch and under the impression last night felt like something more.Damn you, Melissa. When you project yourself as a badass bitch, people don’t realize you’re actually a sensitive person. I’m kind of like an M&M. Hard on the outside, soft in the middle. And right now, I feel like a piece of candy stomped and mushed into someone’s carpet.
I need to call Olivia and fill her in on all?—
