Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
IMANI
Today is a practice day for both Blake and me. It’s not an off day; I don’t have those, despite what Blake coaxed me into yesterday. But there’s a little cheating, because they might be sitting right outside the ice with their own skates on.
“Come on, Cupcake!” Blake taunts from the bench, waving their phone in the air.
“I hate you!” I yell back at them as I stand up from the wipeout.
Bzz. The vibrator that Blake stuck inside my pussy and trapped underneath my tights and my leotard goes off, making me falter in my forward glide. This is not the first time the vibrator has gone off. My costume is soaking fucking wet, and not just from sweat.
“Now, now. That’s not how we get anywhere,” Blake croons, and I look over to see their grin blinding me from all the way across the ice. “You got this! Just have fun with it!”
Muttering to myself, I skate around, shaking off the fall from my latest attempt at the triple axel.
As if destroying churches wasn’t enough for me, today Blake is trying to ruin the peace and quiet of my ice time…
or so I would protest to them. But the real truth is that I haven’t had this much fun skating in a really long time.
Somehow, Blake has relieved some of the pressure that’s on me to kill this jump.
Instead, they’ve turned my session into something silly and joyful.
It’s one hell of a way to spend Valentine’s Day… not that we are valentines.
This is also definitely not Coach-approved, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I don’t know, though. I feel more motivated to land this than I have in a long time.
I’ve got a vibrator inserted, “Golden” by HUNTR/X is playing while we both sing along, and Blake is watching me.
Having their eyes on me is its own kind of pressure, sure, but they’re constantly encouraging me, not deriding me. It’s a welcome change.
“Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake!” Blake chants, and I can see the phone has been set down, much to my bittersweet bliss.
I sing loudly as I do a camel spin. It was one of the earliest spins I perfected; therefore, it’s one of my favorites.
Nicely pumped up, I transition out of it and directly into building up speed.
My right knee bends deeply, and I move onto the forward edge of my blade, confident that this time will be the time.
Everything slows down as I rotate counterclockwise three and a half times.
Rumi’s voice sings in my head, spurring me to victory.
My body is perfectly tight. I can feel the ladders of my abs tightening to maintain the necessary core strength.
And then… I land on the backward outside edge of my left foot. My face breaks out in a victorious smile, but I’ve counted my chickens too early. My ankle completely crumples underneath me, and I go down—hard.
I scream my defeat to the heavens and lie there for a second, not feeling a rush to get up since I know Blake is certainly going to go easier on me than Coach. But not that long into my interlude, Blake appears in my view.
“You’re extremely tall in your skates,” I say nonsensically.
“You’re extremely short when you’re lying on the ice,” Blake responds, their expression absent of teasing. “How’s that ankle?”
“Ugh. The more important question is how my pride is,” I grumble.
“Imani,” Blake bites out.
“I’m fine!” I assert, but their expression still displays intense worry. “Truthfully, Sir.” I stand easily, skating a circle around their stationary person.
“You’re grimacing while you do it. But nice try, Cupcake. To the doctor we go,” Blake announces.
“How can you—I wasn’t—Hey! No! I have to practice more!” I wail.
Blake folds their arms and cocks their head. “You can be carried out of here if you want to. Or you can skate over to the gateway, take those cute little skates off, and walk out of here yourself,” they threaten.
“You wouldn’t,” I parry. “It would make a scene. We’d be a scandal. ‘Next on the Olympics: two unlikely players who formed a romantic relationship.’” I stick my tongue out at them.
Blake’s expression darkens. “Fucking watch me.” They come closer as though to make good on their word.
“Fuck! I’ll do it!” I screech, skating over to do as they say. When I’m sitting and unlacing my skates, I feel another little bzz. I look up, glaring at Blake as they come through the gateway themself. “You’ve gotta be shitting on my dick.”
Blake throws their head back and laughs. “You’re being a fucking brat. I’m gonna do this all through the doctor visit.” They lean forward and grasp my neck. “And then, if the doctor clears you, I’m going to take you home and fuck the brattiness right outta you.”
I gulp at their words, especially noting the way they say “home.” Wow, can’t go down that road. Beware all ye who enter here, and all that. “Yes, Sir,” I simply answer.
Blake nods and then sits down to unlace their own skates, but pauses in the middle.
“I’m so proud of you for that jump, though.
I was waiting for you to make it consistently during this practice so that we could have even more fun.
Because come on, nailing the triple axel at the same time as you orgasm would be so cool. ”
Bzz.
I roll my eyes even as I shriek.
I manage to walk to the doctor, but I have to push Blake off of me the whole time, and not in the normal way—they constantly ask if I need support or to be outright carried.
And I know I’m setting myself up for punishment later, but I meet their inquiries with bratting, which they give me more and more vibrations for.
By the time I’m on that thin paper sheet talking to the nurse, I’ve been edged to my limit.
I regret nothing.
“The doctor will be with you shortly,” the sweet nurse tells me as she closes the door.
I collapse back onto the medical bed and howl. “Please, Sir! Let me come now!”
Blake laughs. “Shh, Cupcake. You’re going to make a scene. Tsk tsk. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“If I’m quiet for you, will I get my way?” I loll my head in their direction and whine.
“With the way you were on the way here? I think not,” Blake says with that voice that is on the fence of serious and laughing. Then they ratchet the vibration up.
I moan and bring one of my hands to the crotch of my leotard to apply pressure to the little bullet that’s taped to me and trapped in there, grinding against my palm while my other hand digs into the bed above my head.
“Sir, Sir, Sir,” I chant, absolutely having lost the plot to the desire that’s riding me so high.
The edge of orgasm takes hold of my body, and I tense, ready to let go and burst into pieces.
That’s when the toy goes limp against my clit.
“Now, now, Cupcake. Who does your orgasm belong to?” Blake asks sternly.
“You, Sir,” I eke out, taking my hand away from the gusset of my costume and flinging it above my head, my whole body going limp in defeat.
“Oh, so you do remember. That’s excellent. You don’t get to assist. We have to start the whole process over now, I think. Hm,” Blake pauses and then sighs. “Yes, that sounds good. So sad to have a ruined orgasm. Sad for you, anyway.”
A woman with brown skin like mine walks in with a white coat, and I struggle to sit up. “Let’s get this over with,” I tell the doctor.
She laughs, a happy sound that reaches into my ears and places lightness there. “You athletes are all the same—quick visit, out the door to create more damage. Job security for me, I guess. Hi there, I’m Dr. Ebert. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?”
“Hi, Doc. I’m Imani Gray,” I try to say as pleasantly as possible.
She nods and smiles. “No doubt a figure skater. My favorite, don’t tell the others.” Dr. Ebert looks over at Blake. “And who are you, my dear?”
Blake, who is lounging casually in their black sweatpants, cherry red tee with the sleeve ends rolled just-so to show off their muscles, and backward Cardinals hat over their long blond hair, responds, “The others.” The doctor has the grace to look embarrassed, but Blake quickly saves her.
“I’m just kidding. I’m Blake Floquet. Hockey, if you’re interested.
” They throw an arm over the next chair and give the doctor a wink.
The doctor’s eyes go wide as she gets visibly ruffled, but recovers enough to direct her attention back to me. “Imani, what happened to bring you in today?”
“I fell during a jump, but it’s nothing.” I pause to glare at Blake. “I even walked here on my own, despite someone trying to carry me.”
“Ah, the girlfriend is worried that it could be more than a strain. I see.”
The doctor says more inane things as she makes notes, but my brain went white when she said “girlfriend.” I dare a peek at Blake, and they’re as shocked as I am.
Their rosy skin displays a lovely blush for me to read, and I have to say that seeing them flustered is a nice change.
I wonder if I could make them do that later, and if they get red all over their chest down to those delicious tits.
“Imani? Can you tell me what you’ve eaten today?” The doctor asks, and I get the impression it’s not the first time she’s repeated herself.
Now my face is hot, but one person in this room can read me despite the lack of tells. Goddamnit. How do they do that? And how do I make it stop? “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say that your bloodwork was concerning. I just have a couple of questions about it—no need to be embarrassed. I assure you that I’m on your side. Have you had anything to eat or drink today?” Dr. Ebert inquires with a concerning amount of gentleness.
My hackles immediately go up. “Okay, well. I don’t have a problem. I eat a well-balanced meal that my nutritionist and Coach approve for me. It’s designed to keep me at the top of my game. So maybe just do your job and look at my ankle, yeah?”
“Imani,” Blake warns with a threatening tone.
I look over at them, realizing I must really be in trouble if they’re using my real name.
“This does actually indirectly affect your ankle, Imani. I promise I’m only trying to take care of your health.” Turning back to her, I see Dr. Ebert’s eyes fill with sadness, but it just makes me angrier.
“I maybe forgot to eat today, but that’s not indicative of my normal schedule. That’s not an everyday occurrence,” I defend, crossing my arms and blocking my body from both of them.
“I’ll get some X-rays of your ankle and get you out of here, then,” Dr. Ebert sighs and walks out of the room.
I hear the defeat in her voice, but I’m not ready to face what it means. And when I look over at Blake and see them staring at me with fear and worry in their eyes, I’m not ready to face that either.