Page 121 of Puck Yes

“And I need to see this famous rink,” Ivy says.

Well, we’d planned on showing it to her anyway.

* * *

After they give us a tour of the local rink, which is booked up the wazoo—Bryan’s terms—Bryan and Ryan take off, leaving us alone.

“You kids can skate all you want. Just shut the door and lock it when you’re done,” Bryan says.

Ivy shoots me a curious look. “They don’t mind us using it?”

Stefan and I laugh. “We booked it tonight,” I say.

“Oh,” she says, then smiles so wide my heart beats a little harder for her.

We lace up, and the three of us skate for a good long time, all alone in the rink, under the lights, blasting rock music. When we’ve raced around the ice enough, I check in with Stefan. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

Skating backwards, I tug on Ivy’s hand. “Want to ride on a Zamboni?”

Her blue eyes pop. “Yes!”

* * *

We take off our skates, and after I show her the basics of driving the big blue beast, I let her take it for a spin while I ride shotgun and Stefan watches from the edge of the rink. After a lap or two, she’s breathing hard and her cheeks are red—steering one of these is a workout. She stops the machine in the middle of the ice and lets out a contented sigh.

Stefan walks over and stands at the open door. “New career path as a Zamboni driver?”

“Imagine how valuable I’d be to hockey teams then. From mascot to Zamboni driver in a single bound.” She pats the metal edge of the machine. “Seriously, this was so fun. Are you guys trying to be the best boyfriends ever?”

It’s a dead-serious question.

I catch Stefan’s gaze, grinning like she’s caught on to us. I like, too, that she calls us boyfriends. She’s not making distinctions in titles anymore. We’re both her boyfriends.

“Yes,” Stefan answers her. “Is it working?”

Ivy’s smile is coy. “Kind of, but I’m not convinced yet.”

“Woman, what’s it going to take?” Stefan teases.

Ivy climbs out of the driver’s seat and onto my lap, patting the other seat for Stefan, who hops up where she’s indicated. There’s not much room for any one of us, but who needs room when my woman has dirty deeds flashing in her eyes? She manages to straddle me, rocking subtly against my dick. I’m not even hard, but that changes quickly, especially when she dips her face to my neck. She kisses me there while reaching toward Stefan’s face, running her knuckles down his cheek and over his stubble as she rocks against me.

My dick salutes hello, and my mind hums with possibilities. Stefan’s thinking fast too. He blows on his hands, warming them up, then slides them under her sweatshirt, touching her belly, the curves of her breasts.

She gasps, then breaks the kiss to lock eyes with me then him.

“I like taking turns,” she says with slow, tempting thrusts against me while she turns and stretches to kiss him.

She’s kissing him while dry humping my cock as the Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” plays on the ice rink’s sound system.

My mind pops. It whirs with lust and excitement. The chilly air feels supercharged. I never expectedthiswhen I accepted a trade to San Francisco. Never imagined a moment like this. And I don’t want to lose sight of what it means.

Fun, but intimacy. A risqué evening but trust, as well. Our sex is wild, but it’s also soul deep, even in an ice rink. All alone, in the cool air, we get to work taking care of Ivy’s needs. As she kisses Stefan again, I warm my hands then fiddle with the waistband of her leggings, pushing them down to slide my fingers over her belly button and inside her panties so I can tease her clit.

With a shuddery gasp, she breaks the kiss, letting her head fall back. “Oh god, yes.”

“You dirty girl,” I rasp out. “You’re already turned on from humping my dick.”

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