Learn Your Lesson (Kings of the Ice), page 25
I nodded.
“Words.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
Balancing on one hand, he reached between us with the other, and I felt him align his crown at my entrance. He toyed with me first, sliding himself up and down through my wet slit before he notched himself in just a centimeter — enough to hold him there as he placed his hand on the bed again.
His eyes held mine as he flexed his hips, and I gasped at the first inch, the searing pain of stretching to fit him blurring with the mind-numbing pleasure of feeling him penetrate me. I didn’t miss how his eyes flared at my reaction, at how he seemed to grow even harder inside me.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I breathed, and I palmed his ass in my hands, pulling him in deeper.
We groaned in unison as he slid another inch, and then he pulled out, my body instantly craving the fullness of him before he edged himself back in. He was deeper this time, and I moaned and released my grip on him to twist my hands in the comforter, instead.
Again and again, he withdrew and flexed, filling me more and more each time. When he was fully seated, he stayed there for a long moment, both of us breathing hard and soaking in the way it felt to be rooted together.
“Perfect fucking fit,” he growled against my calf, biting the flesh as he withdrew his hips and flexed all the way in again. “Like you were meant for me. Like this cunt was made in my honor.”
“Jesus,” I whispered, eyes rolling up to the ceiling as he rocked in hard enough to make me see stars. “It feels so good.”
“You feel tight as fuck like this,” he said, and he picked up his pace, pumping in and out of me with my legs rested on his shoulders, my body bending in half. “You always feel so fucking tight.”
I loved the position, the way he hit deep with every thrust. I loved watching his dark eyes as he flexed into me, the way his mouth opened, and groans of ecstasy slipped through him.
But I needed… something.
“Talk to me,” he coached.
I bit my lip and frowned, trying to figure it out. “I want to touch myself.”
“Mm,” he mused. “You want to rub your clit while I fuck you?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, my cheeks flaming, and Will pressed up onto his knees. He grabbed my ankles, keeping my legs hiked but spreading them wide and continuing his rhythmic thrusts.
Fuck.
This view completely demolished the one before it.
Now, I could watch the roll of his body when he fucked me, how his abdominal muscles flexed and released with every pump. I felt his grip on my ankles, his eyes raking over my newly exposed flesh. We both watched together as my breasts bounced each time he slid into me, and I moaned when I finally allowed myself to touch them, to roll my nipples in my fingertips and stir my climax closer to the edge.
“God, yes, baby,” Will groaned, feral and unhinged. “Play with those beautiful fucking tits for me.”
Baby.
The nickname made a shock of electricity shoot right to my pussy. It was so intimate and sweet, and yet somehow, he said it in such a filthy way that it unraveled me. It was like he wanted me to be his, or like I already was.
I gave in to the position, letting my eyes close and my neck arch before one hand reached down between my legs and stroked my clit. I fired up to life easily, and I knew without much testing that I could come like this. I could come right now if I wanted to.
But I didn’t.
I wanted to play, to experiment, to learn.
Instantly, I pulled my hands back, my chest heaving, orgasm cresting only to recede again with a frustrated howl.
“I like this,” I breathed. “But I want to try something else.”
Will smirked. “You edging yourself, baby?”
I didn’t even know what the fuck that meant, but I could guess, and when I nodded, Will hummed his approval in a kiss against my ankle. Slowly, he released me, lying down on the bed next to me before helping me climb into his lap.
Except I didn’t straddle him normally.
Instead, he maneuvered me until I was facing away from him, my knees spread over his hips, hands bracing just above his knees on his thick, muscular thighs.
“I want to watch this ass bounce as you ride me,” he said, palming said ass in two lush handfuls. He gripped hard and groaned as he made me jiggle, and then his hand came down in a quick slap that made me gasp and arch and writhe.
I tried not to remember much about my first sexual experience, but one thing I could never forget was how that boy had eviscerated me and my reputation afterward. I could still hear him telling his friends that he’d fucked a fat girl and it wasn’t that bad. I could still vividly remember his face when I took my clothes off, how he hadn’t wanted to look too long.
It had taken me a long time to come back to loving my body after that, but I did. I loved myself fiercely. I found so much beauty in my thickness, in my curves and rolls. I was like Aphrodite, damn it.
And I knew without a second thought that Will felt the same way.
He appreciated me with every look, every touch, every taste.
“Sit on me,” he begged, guiding my hips until I felt the crown of him pressing inside me. I was so wet from him fucking me before that I slid down easily, and we both groaned at the reconnection, his hands roaming over my hips and ass before he slowly started to help me move.
I liked this position, too. It felt completely different than the one before it — I wasn’t quite as full, but the friction of my clit against his balls every time I rocked my hips was so fucking good I didn’t miss the deeper connection.
At first, I used my thighs to really lift and sit, but eventually, the rub of my clit against him was too exquisite to deny myself. I sat more fully, rocking on him and feeling his cock deep and seated inside me.
“I could definitely come like this,” I breathed.
Will moaned and bucked into me, and that sent him deep enough to make me gasp.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Like that.”
He thrust again, taking the work off me as I focused on finding that sweet contact that coaxed my orgasm to the surface. I felt it burning up my veins, my blood pumping faster, heart racing as the edges of my vision blurred.
But before it could catch, I lifted, hovering above him with my legs shaking and a whimpering cry wrenching from my throat. My orgasm was already coming, the beginning of it tingling through me, and now that I’d stopped all contact, my body was convulsing in protest.
“Fucking hell, Chloe,” Will said, sitting up to wrap his arms around me. He palmed my breasts and kissed along my spine. “You’re torturing yourself.”
“I want more.”
“More?”
“Another position.”
He smiled against my shoulder blade. “Masochistic little thing.”
But he answered my plea, flipping me back into the mattress with another appreciative smack of my ass. This time, he had me on my stomach, and he kissed down my back, over my hips, and along each swell of my ass before he hiked my hips up.
I arched my back, knees planted against the mattress but my face still in the pillows as he fit himself to me. He played with me again, sliding his crown between my lips and running it up and down before wedging himself inside me.
He slid in hard and fast and deep — so fucking deep I cried out and fisted the sheets like I’d spiral into space if I didn’t hold onto them for dear life.
“Fuck,” I screamed, but a moan rode out of me on the next breath. “So deep.”
Will groaned his agreement, withdrawing and flexing inside me all the way to the hilt again. It stole my breath when he did. He was so impossibly deep like this, enough so that I felt him hitting edges inside me never before touched.
“Too much?” he asked, slowing his pace.
“No,” I said. “Yes. Maybe?”
Will kept his pace slow and even for a while to let me adjust, and then he pressed his weight into me from behind until I had no choice but to drop to the bed. I was flat on my stomach, but then he hiked my left knee up toward my chest, using his knees to spread me wide.
As soon as he slid inside me again, I knew this was the jackpot.
My hips were lifted just enough from my knee being perched for me to slide my hand down and rub my clit in slow, torturous circles. Will balanced on the hand behind me while using the other to snake under me and fondle my breast. We both moaned when he palmed me, testing the weight, and then he was toying with my nipple and flexing into me in slow, smooth, steady pumps.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed. “This. God, this.”
Will was speechless now, his face twisted up as he pressed his forehead against the back of my head. I was arching and reaching for him, and he seemed to be doing everything he could not to come.
That spurred me on.
I rubbed my clit with more pressure, rocking into my hand each time Will rocked into me. He was so deep, and he was everywhere — his lips kissing my hair, his hand massaging my breast, his cock filling me with enough depth to bring stars to the edge of my vision.
This time, my orgasm crept up slowly, like it wasn’t sure if I was teasing it again, like it didn’t trust me to let it loose. But the more it came on, the more it took over, the less control I had.
It prickled my skin at first, and then numbed my toes and fingers, working slowly toward my core. Heat battled with ice in my veins. Pleasure sparked so electric that I cried out, chasing the sensation, my hand wild between my legs as my entire body trembled with the effort to catch the fire.
And then the earth shook, a star exploded in the universe of my soul, and I came like I’d never come before.
It almost hurt at first, and I whimpered Will’s name as he grunted and kept his pace to drive me home. On the heels of that pain was the most consuming pleasure I’d ever experienced, the kind that swallows you whole and takes you to another realm. I moaned and screamed his name, begging for more as much as I willed it to stop — but the waves kept coming, crashing over me again and again until I was drowning and shaking and pleading for air.
“Fuck, Chloe,” Will groaned in my ear, and then he plunged deep, spawning on the last of my climax just as he caught his own. I wanted to live inside a cave with the sounds he let loose, to hear those moans and pants of ecstasy echoing off the walls of my heart forevermore.
I loved to undo him. I lived for that rush of power and pleasure as he spilled inside the condom, inside me, his shoulders taut, arms trembling, breath sawing in and out of him in uneven bursts.
Eventually, he stilled, and I collapsed into the bed, heaving and sweating and smiling like a fucking loon. I moaned when Will flexed inside me one last time, and then he withdrew, both of us hissing at the loss.
He rolled onto the bed beside me, and I creaked one eye open, smile widening as I took in the sight of him breathing so hard it was like he’d just played two back-to-back games.
“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he cursed, one hand on his chest and the other sweeping through his hair. He let his head fall to the side, eyes wide like I was insane. “I think you might be the death of me.”
I just giggled, kicking my feet with the soreness of him still lingering between my thighs.
“Thanks for the lesson, coach,” I said, lifting up onto my elbows to wink at him.
He groaned, thumbing my chin as his eyes raked over me. It had to be a sight — my cleavage against the bed, my face pink from being freshly fucked.
“Pretzel.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the name of the position,” he mused. “Pretzel.”
“Pretzel,” I echoed, and my tongue skated out to taste his thumb when he ran it over my bottom lip. “I definitely like that one.”
“I can see that,” he mused. “And the others?”
“I liked them, too.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything you don’t like.”
When you leave.
The words danced on the tip of my tongue, twirling against the back of my teeth and begging to be set free.
I swallowed them down, instead.
We were quiet for a long while before Will made the first move, groaning his way out of the sheets before he was helping me stand, too. We showered together, and just like the last time, he washed my body and my hair as I moaned and leaned into his strong, gentle touch.
But as soon as we were dry, he was dressing.
As soon as he was dressed, he was gone.
And as soon as he was gone, my mind was racing, heart aching, every cell in my body warning me that I was lying to myself.
I told him I could do this.
I told him I didn’t want anything more.
But the voices of my matriarchy were being drowned out more and more by the voice inside me screaming that he could be different, that this didn’t have to have rules, that we could be more.
And I didn’t need Reddit to tell me how stupid and delirious those thoughts were.
CHAPTER 26
HOUSE OF MATCHES
Will
Iwas sick.
And not just in the way that I knew already — which was that I couldn’t get Chloe out of my head, not for a single fucking second.
I was playing with fire when it came to this little arrangement of ours. I kept my heart guarded about as securely as a raggedy old wooden fence would, because no matter how I tried to put distance between us, I couldn’t help but give in to the desperation I felt to get closer.
No, I wasn’t just that kind of sick.
I was sick sick — as in down with the goddamn flu.
This was what I got for going to a theme park in the middle of cold season, I supposed.
I’d been relatively fortunate over the years as a dad, all things considered. Somehow, even when Ava brought home germs from school, I managed to tough it out. I could play with a stuffy nose or a headache. I could even suffer with a fever and a stomach bug.
But the flu was something Coach didn’t fuck with.
The last thing he wanted was for anyone else on the team to catch it, for a group of us to be down with body aches, fatigue, and a fever. I’d seen guys play even days after having the flu, and it was hardly ever to their full capacity.
And so, when I’d shown up to practice sick as a fucking dog three days after Disney, Coach had ordered me to see the team doctor. I thought they’d tell me the same as usual — it’s a virus, hydrate and rest and don’t push too hard.
Instead, I’d tested positive for influenza, and I’d been sent home without the option to stay even if I wanted to.
And I did. I needed to stay, to be at practice, to be on the flight to our next away game.
We had twenty games left of the regular season.
Twenty.
In hockey, that might as well have been one.
The race for the playoffs was too fucking tight for me to be out. It was almost impossible for us not to make the playoffs at this point, but these next twenty games could mean the difference in having home ice advantage and top seeds versus being a wildcard.
That’s how close the teams in our division were. That’s how much every game mattered at this point.
I’d thrown a fit when Coach told me to leave. I’d been even more pissed when I missed our away game against Pittsburgh and we lost. It didn’t matter that my backup played great, that it really wasn’t his fault for the L. I still felt the responsibility of it weighing on me.
As it was, I was laid up on the couch on my final rest day, grumpier than I ever had been and scowling at the television as I played the latest episode of Jeopardy.
I had clearance to return tomorrow, as long as I was feeling better. And to be honest, Coach and I both knew that even if I wasn’t feeling better, I’d still be there.
Fortunately, I actually was on the mend, my body aches less severe, fever lowering, cough receding, throat no longer making it feel like I was swallowing razor blades.
I knew I had Chloe to thank.
When I’d been sent home, she’d launched into action like a nurse, forcing me into bed and bringing me everything I could possibly want or need to recover. She’d insisted Chef Patel not come to the house, to prevent her from getting sick, too. That meant Chloe was cooking for us. She’d also taken over completely with Ava, on top of teaching five days a week, and had cleaned the house with disinfectant more in the last few days than I’d ever done in the years I’d lived here.
“The last thing you need is for Ava to get sick next,” she’d warned my first sick day home, wiping down the TV remote with a Lysol wipe.
And I’d tried not to give in to my urge to pull her into me, to thank her with an embrace since my words were fucking broken.
It was such as simple act of care, but the fact that she wanted to keep my daughter well, that she was considerate of Chef, that she so easily stepped up to the plate to handle everything I would have worried about… it was something I’d never take for granted.
But unfortunately for me, Chloe also didn’t want the flu, and she kept her distance — physically, anyway — and made sure to wash her hands thoroughly after any time she came into my vicinity.
Perhaps that was what pissed me off most about this entire scenario.
Here I was, home, no practice, no games, no responsibilities… and I couldn’t even spend my time fucking Chloe into oblivion.
It was hard to think about anything else after our night in Orlando. I had been plagued by the image of her riding me reverse cowgirl ever since, haunted by the way her legs shook violently when they were hitched on my shoulders, and she denied herself a climax in the name of testing other positions. I could close my eyes and still feel how she tightened around me when she finally relented, could replay the most intense orgasm of my life as I let myself follow behind her, both of us gripping onto each other tight and riding out the waves.
The flu wasn’t the most dangerous part of this situation.
No, it was that Chloe was taking care of me, and that I couldn’t help myself but to talk to her when she brought me food or ran a hot bath on my behalf.
