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“You, Luscious, run in,” he said, tucking the cube between her breasts, sending a chilly stream down the center of her, “to protect those you hold dear. Blessings to my babies you’ve been brought into their world.”
“Speak of which,” she protested herself at this point as she attempted to get away, only to feel shackled, duct-taped, and VacuSealed to the man. He hadn’t restrained her or boxed her in, and still her body couldn’t move, as if his gravity were so heavy, movement was beyond her ability.
“They’re out.” He shifted, bringing his lips to her ear and whispering, “Want me to put you to bed?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,the naughty, wild side of her screamed as her fingers fisted the center of his T-shirt in an attempt to find balance. The shitty part of knees being joints came when they threatened to buckle. Any weakness in the upper or lower parts could release the hinge, and right now, every part of Bree might as well be rusted out in high winds. The light breath from Ice had her ready to collapse into his arms. A brush of his five-o’clock shadow sent pinpricks of fire through her, melting the bit of a cube left between Ice’s fingers.
“I know this is normal behavior for you—”
“The last thing I think when I see your body is behaving,” he purred. “Do you need me to take control? Take over and silence the little voice in your head telling you to stop?”
“That’s not what she’s saying.” The words fell before the lock she kept in place to keep herself in check could be turned.
Ice tilted his head and shifted his body. Hers followed in tandem, and she was pressed against the metal windowsill as her back met the thick glass. “I’ve wanted to pin you down and have my way with you from the moment you told me you were going shove my pole up my ass.”
“Everyone has their kink,” she said, breathless, wondering how she’d gotten to this place and if she’d lost complete possession of her breathless lungs.
“That mouth of yours,” he growled as his knee slipped between her legs and his heavy-lidded, lust-driven eyes locked on hers.
At this point, the Jaws of Life would be needed to separate them as she angled to get away, taking one step with a haggard breath, saying, “We shouldn’t.”
His right hand caught her upper arm, pulling her back as his left cradled her face and his mouth met hers. The protest had been empty when she said the words, and he’d read her fully. She needed to be taken. No part of her worried that the option to leave wasn’t there, but her rational mind had caused her to live with a battery-operated boyfriend for too long. Much like when she jumped into the truck on instinct. It had been the right decision, but if she’d thought too long, she’d have let Ice take the kids himself.
Now his mouth fused with hers, and he once again pressed her into the window, his tongue stroking along the seam of her lips as they fell open, inviting him to explore. The whiskey-flavored muscle had her sucking him into her as his hands shifted to her hips and lifted her onto the sill. Knocking her knees apart, he pressed himself against her center, hardness straining as he deepened the kiss and her arms locked around his neck.
Panting, he pulled back, so when he spoke, his lips brushed against hers. “You ready to see how I got my nickname?”
“Am I?” she questioned, needing to lock a leg around his waist to feel secure.
“You ready to listen to the naughty girl in your head?”
“The kids,” she said, swallowing back the last argument she could muster as he once again silenced her and the memory of the click of the adjoining door closing threw away her inhibition.
Thoughts of her first chaste kiss from a little boy at church who ran away right after shifted to the confused and fumbling ones she’d experienced over the years. How many messed-up, lazy kisses had she had that made Ice’s stand out in a way she couldn’t even fathom? The man’s control and passion had her once again grasping his shirt as wetness destroyed her panties.
“Have you finished your safety checklist yet, Bree?” he questioned, and her name on his lips was the final brick in a wall blocking out all her arguments.
The sound of ice clinking in the glass at her side made her brace for his next game of hide the cube. Already one had disappeared between the cleft of her breasts. He placed the ice on her bottom lip, and she used her tongue to bring it into her mouth.
“Don’t bite it,” he warned as she sucked on the whiskey-infused frozen treat before he retrieved it mid-embrace. The ice wrapped in the cup he’d created with his tongue, he brought her hands to either side of her thighs, and they curled around the edge of the windowsill. The soft pajama pants she wore slipped easily over her thighs, and Ice lowered himself between her legs before tugging down her panties.
When the icy cold of the cube hit her clit, she gasped and marveled at his control. He swirled the piece as her sensitive flesh chilled and numbed before he took her fully into his mouth, jutting the cube, making her squirm as he filled her core with a mix of hard frost and soft warmth from his languid licks. She couldn’t help wondering how she could explain frostbite to a doctor. Head swimming as satisfied moans came from between her thighs, she balanced perilously on the edge of the windowsill. She wished the window was smaller so she could reach on each side to brace herself as Ice got lost between her folds.
Pulling in on her clit, no longer numb and recovering with heightened sensitivity, he placed her thighs on his shoulders, and she lifted one foot higher to rest on his clavicle giving him more access. He deepened his exploration, his tongue flicking at the little bit of ice left inside her and sending it bouncing up until he caught it on the tip of his tongue, curling it up, the coolness melting when he pressed it on the bundle of nerves most thought a myth.
“Fuck,” she moaned as she clawed at the back of his head to keep him close. The man had her numb, then tingling, and, before she could stop herself, falling over the edge as an orgasm tore along her spine and ripped her apart.
When she once again heard the tink of ice hitting glass, she did her best to focus her eyes and glanced over to see the man retrieving another cube. Mischief laced the evil look in his eyes as the thicker one, having not been melted a bit by his tongue, was inserted and once again her body bucked.
Moving up her body, he kept two fingers holding the cube inside her, spinning, pushing deeper.
“I thought you were sweet before.” His lips glistened from the bit of her essence he hadn’t licked off yet. “The cold made you an ice cream I’m going to want on the hot days.”
“This is Vegas. Every day is hot,” she countered.
He inched closer as his fingers found a rhythm that had her breath catching. “That mouth comes up with the best ideas, a sweet treat to quench my need and cool me down at the end of the night.”
“You’re quenched?” Her eyes fluttered. The ice had melted inside her as if it were in the middle of a road so hot it was buckling, and she still craved more.
