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But there’s something in his hand, and I gasp too late. He has an ice cube in his fingers, sliding it along my hot clit. He slides it down further, pushing it into me.
I don’t react.
I can’t.
Cool water drips down my thighs as he keeps the ice inside me. The intrusion shouldn’t feel good, but the bite of pain and the pleasure of being filled makes my head spin.
“I can’t fuck youonthe ice, so I may as well fuck youwithice.”
I glare at him.
“Drink.” He lifts the glass to my mouth.
I part my lips and let him pour the amber liquid down my throat.
“Will you hate me if I continue to love you the way you need to be loved?” He brushes my lip with the back of his thumb’s knuckle. Catching the spilled liquid before it can drip off my chin.
“Yes.”
He smiles. “But not forever.”
Okay, well, I don’t knowthat. Especially when he moves his fingers, hitting a spot inside me that makes my knees go weak.
“Hold my shoulders, songbird, let me make you feel good and bad.”
I do what he says.Fuck, I just do what he says.
“Why do you want to make me feel bad?”
He sips the remainder of his drink, then leans in and presses his lips to mine. The smokey liquid pours into my mouth, a bit warmer fromhim, and I swallow it. He chases it with his tongue, deepening the kiss.
The ice hurts.
He tosses the glass. It hits the carpet with a dullthud, clattering as it rolls onto the hard floor, but we ignore it. He wraps his arm around my back and leans me back in place, kissing and finger-fucking me.
I’m naked.
He’s fully dressed.
The disparity should kill me.
The ice is nearly gone. Water drips out of me, down his hand. It rolls down my thighs and pools at my feet. I’m so fucking close to coming. He’s moving faster, stroking me on the inside and the outside, kissing me without reprieve. But as soon as the last little shard melts, he pulls out. He stops kissing me. He licks his fingers clean and releases me entirely.
I stumble into the wall, and it’s the only thing that keeps me upright.
“Why did you do that?” My voice trembles.
“So you crave my touch.” He watches me. “Do you?”
“Do I…”
“Do you want me to touch you, songbird? As hated as I am? As repulsive as my actions?”
“No.” I don’t know if it’s a lie or the best truth I’ve ever spoken. My mind is a mess. I’m turned on, I’m disgusted. I run my finger over the scar on my throat.
None of this fazes him. He leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Okay. I’ve got to go.” He makes it to the door before something else occurs to him. “Oh, Melody…”
