Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
QUINN
The spray from the showerhead might as well be room temperature for all the effect it has on my core heat. But the point of the water is not really to balance me out. The point of doing the deed here is to douse any stray flames that pop up from my skin.
No, what really helps stabilize me is the cool slide of August’s hand around my waist as he pulls me deeper into the shower.
Goddess, he’s glorious.
His body is so big and solid, and I want to plaster myself to him. Rub every inch of myself over his unyielding surfaces. One of those sturdy pieces I want to slide inside of me.
And a wave of giddy joy flows through me when I realize I don’t have to hold back. Every option is open to me right now as my Viking ice cream god stands at attention before me.
This must be what a goddess experiences when she receives the perfect offering.
Time to inspect my prize.
“Quinn—”
Whatever August’s sentence was, it gets cut off on a choke as I lean in and lick my way along his collarbone. His hips jut forward, as if his dick is desperate for attention.
Instead of reaching down to stroke him, I step up against August, pressing our fronts together, trapping his member between our hips and using my wet body to slide over him.
“Gods,” he mutters, his hands reaching to palm my ass and pull me closer.
I’ve already got him praying. I must be doing good work.
Not that a moment of paying homage to August takes any effort. Stroking my fingers across his tight back muscles is the most fun I’ve had in a while.
I never thought I would get to do this. Before August, I started to lose hope. But here I am, and here he is, and for a moment, my gratefulness overwhelms my horniness. My hot caresses pause as I give in to the urge to hug him.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his pec, watching my breath fog over his frosty skin.
This sweet, sexy man could have his pick of partners. Sure, he has worries about his ice, but clearly, the guy has better control than I do. I’m betting he could make a relationship work with most anyone. He’s not as defective as me.
But still, I’m the one he wants. The one he’s patiently working with.
“Quinn?” This time, his voice holds a question as his hands rub circles on my back. The touch is cool, making me shiver in anticipation.
My mind does a rapid play-through of what’s coming up. Hot, eager kisses, hands stroking and clutching, August spreading my legs and sinking into me.
“You’re going to be inside me,” I moan.
August jerks, as if I hit him, and then a deep sound rumbles from his chest. Two wet hands cup my face, tilting my chin so he can fuse our mouths together.
He doesn’t taste like ice cream. He tastes better.
As our tongues tangle and our breathing meshes, I sample the flavor denied me my whole life. Lust.
A solid pressure pushes against my back, and I realize August has maneuvered me against the tiled wall. Just like that day at Damien’s pool, I hitch my legs around August’s waist. Only this time, there’s not a single bathing suit between us.
“Can I?” The query is spoken against my lips in the same moment the head of his cock strokes through the wetness of my folds.
“Yes. Now!” Am I whimpering?
Since that day in Land of Ice Cream and Snow, when this man made me come harder than I’d ever managed on my own, all I’ve wanted is another chance to revel in the fullness of him, hard and wanting inside me again.
There’s an inferno under my skin, swirling, pulsing, demanding to get free.
Breaking off from August’s kiss, I lean my head back against the wall and shut my eyes, battling between the amazing pleasure between my legs and the terrifying power wanting out.
My man presses his open mouth against the pulse in my neck as his cock eases inside me.
“Oh!” That’s the only coherent word that escapes my throat, the rest a jumble of choked gasps. Steam rises from my skin, filling the shower.
August continues to caress my neck with his mouth and tongue, using his grip on my ass to hold me steady during the leisurely thrust of his hips. Every time he retreats and returns, all the muscles in my lower abdomen flutter and tense, building toward an explosion.
A seemingly unstoppable heat force follows the build of my orgasm, like lava creating a destructive river down a mountainside.
When my hard-fought control threatens to slip from my hands, I finally relent.
“August! Cool me down. I need it.”
From the erotic groan he lets out, the Ice Elemental is only more turned on by my request. A refreshing chill brushes my nipples first, eliciting a gasp from me. Then the wintery touch trickles over my skin, delicate yet persistent.
Glancing down, I’m mesmerized as I watch the ice crystals on August’s skin transfer to mine.
The flowery patterns last for only a moment before melting, but then, a second later, they reform.
I realize the snowy designs appear along with his thrusts, as if every time August slides inside me, he’s gifted with a new burst of power.
How did this man get sexier?
For fuck’s sake, he’s liable to make my brain combust. Except my brain is not what he ends up setting off.
“Close.” His voice is gravelly against my ear, his breath more refreshing than mint gum.
“My clit,” is all I can manage back.
Expecting August to follow my command, I grasp his shoulders tighter, preparing for the moment one of his hands moves away from supporting my weight.
But his grip doesn’t shift.
The cold does.
Suddenly, there’s a focus to the chill. Frost coats my thighs, then the tips of the curls his dick disappears into. Then the sensation dips lower, between my folds, his power so strong that he’s basically manifested himself an icy third hand. When the pressure circles my clit, my mind goes blank.
When consciousness returns, every muscle in my body is clenching and tensing in time with heated waves of pleasure.
August’s chest pins me to the shower wall as his cock stays buried deep in me.
From the now-uneven jerking of his hips and panting groans, I can guess he found his release soon after I claimed mine.
Suddenly, the pair of us is sliding to the floor.
Not entirely graceful, but August clutches me to him as he settles in the bottom of the tub.
He ends up with his back on the porcelain and me as his heated blanket.
Water sprays against my back, the constant pressure acting as a massage to ease my still-twitchy muscles.
The rapid rise and fall of his chest eventually evens out to his normal, steady breathing.
“That’s the smartest sex I’ve ever had,” August announces, his fingers digging into my hair and kneading my scalp.
A sound like a purr comes from my throat. “Oh, yeah. Very educational.”
And I’m wondering when the next lesson can take place.