Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
QUINN
“Oh goddess!”
The ice man of my dreams has his head between my legs, his tongue performing talented, wicked tricks. The sheets on my bed steam, but so far, nothing has caught fire.
Does this mean August is right?
The memory of the confidence in his tone earlier helps ease my fears, and I can finally lose myself in the heady sensations of a man worshipping my clit.
Tingles skitter over my sensitive skin, to the point that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put clothing on again.
My back against the soft mattress overwhelms my nerve endings.
Suddenly, August wraps his cool, strong arms around my thighs and flips onto his back. Now, I sit on top, straddling his glorious face, losing my mind at the drag of his scruff against my over-stimulated flesh.
His rough hand palms my ass, encouraging me to rock. With my fingers clawing at the sheets, I ride his face until I’m whimpering his name, on the verge of crying from the ecstasy of his tongue devouring me like I’m a decadent dessert.
My climax hits, and words fail me. An inarticulate moan accompanies the pulsing of pleasure, and I barely register August sliding me off his face and moving to cradle me in his arms.
When the lusty fog clears from my mind, it’s to find the Viking of a man gently kissing the thousands of freckles on my cheeks.
“You’ll never get them all,” I mumble, fighting a smile. “There are too many.”
August runs his nose along my hairline, then nips my ear. “We’ve got time.”
We do. I spread my hand over his pec, fascinated with the patches of frost that still remain on his skin.
“I missed you.” Days apart, and the one thing that kept me from spiraling was the mission of saving August’s shop.
“I love you,” he whispers against my hair.
Despite the quiet way he speaks the words, I feel them hit my body harder than a lightning bolt, frying my insides. I’m a crispy Pyro, reeling from a confession of love.
“Because … I’m hot?” Anyone else would think I’m talking about my looks. But he knows.
August pulls me tight against him, running his cool hands over my back.
“Your heat lets me get close to you. But I love you because you’re fierce and sweet and funny.
When I’m around you, I get the sense that I’ve found my home.
” His nose brushes against mine. “I’d love you the same if you were a human, trust me. ”
Trust him?
Suddenly, I realize that’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
“I believe you. Hell, I’m in love with you too, you giant, delicious ice cream god. I’ve never met someone as kind and strong as you. I know Phoenix isn’t a beautiful winter wonderland like Alaska, but I want you to stay here more than anything.”
“Quinn”—the stern tone August uses has me tilting my head up so I can meet his eyes—“I never wanted to leave. This is where I belong.”
Need erupts under my skin, and the next thing I know, I’m straddling his lap, sinking onto his perfect, hard cock, fucking the brains out of the man I love.
August grunts with his thrusts, each guttural noise ratcheting up the fire in my veins until I’m sure if I were to cut myself, I’d bleed pure lava.
My orgasm rips through me, and I scream, my back bowing, the icy man between my thighs cooling my feverish skin. The next second, he’s groaning deep, pressing his forehead against my collarbone as he pumps into me, the slickness of his pleasure spilling over.
The experience is decadent, and I can’t wait to repeat every bit of it.
As we lie in the bed, tangled up together, panting like marathon runners, I grin so wide that my jaw cracks.
August loves me. I have an ice god all my own. A man who is a good person, but also supernaturally good in bed.
My eyes drift around the room as I catch my breath.
And that’s when I realize that nothing is on fire. There’s not a single scorch mark.
The sheets are perfectly intact.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I stand, not even taking a moment to revel in the slow slide of him leaving my body. “I need to check something.” Without waiting for a response, I sprint to the main room, where the thermostat hangs on the wall.
Seventy-nine degrees.
We normally have it set to seventy-eight. If I affected the climate at all, it was only by one degree. Still needing more evidence, I rush to the freezer and tug it open. A half-eaten carton of ice cream sits inside, and when I pull the lid off, I peer down at a solid mass of dessert.
“Maybe we should revisit the idea of fucking in my shop if you need ice cream this bad afterward,” a voice tinged with laughter suggests.
I whirl around to find that August has trailed after me. He stands in the middle of the room, completely naked, dick at half-mast.
“Look! It’s still frozen!” I thrust the container into his chest, my excitement wild and uncaring at this point.
Comprehension dawns on August’s face, and he gives me a sweet smile. “So, it is.”
“How much did you help?” My confidence from a second ago is wavering.
He tilts his head, watching me. “I didn’t. I mean, I kept my mind on it when I was eating you out.” His dirty words have me shivering. “But nothing happened. Then, admittedly, you saying you loved me and riding me like that …”
Frost spiderwebs over his skin. I want to lick it.
And I can.
With August, I don’t have to be afraid.
An idea forms, and I shove the ice cream back in the freezer. “Would you mind helping me test this out? Right now?”
His grin is cocky, and I find I love the look of confidence on my man. “You want to go another round?”
I strut past him, clucking my tongue. “Not exactly. Put your briefs on. Only your briefs.”
A few minutes later, I’m standing outside, dressed in a Land of Ice Cream and Snow T-shirt I stole from his office.
The closed sliding glass door separates me from August. He waits in my living room, watching me, a smile curving the corner of his mouth, strong hands resting on his hips.
The fire smolders under my skin, but the chill of his power also brushes over me. Everything remains balanced.
I wave, and he takes a couple of steps back. The coolness dims, and my heat grows as my eyes linger on his bare chest. But the warmth doesn’t spill out uncontrolled. So, I take some time to play with the power. I open my palm and allow small flames to trickle over my fingers.
We repeat this, August moving backward and me studying and manipulating the fire as his power’s presence fades. Once he reaches the farthest point in the house where I can still see him, all chill is gone. The fire presses at my skin, wanting out.
But I don’t let it.
When I beam at August through the glass, his lips twitch. It’s the only warning I get before his thumbs slide into the waistband of his boxers and he drags them off.
I swallow, practically drooling at the sight.
With the view of a gloriously naked ice cream god stroking his quickly growing erection, the heat pulses in strong, heavy beats through my veins. Flames gather in my palms, bright and hot.
But my T-shirt doesn’t catch fire. Neither does the stack of towels on the pool chair, nor the cloth umbrella standing a few feet away. Not even when I notice a bead of moisture at the tip of him, which he swipes with a thumb and rubs over his swollen head.
The sight has me panting. Burning.
But not out of control.
One more step, one more test, and I’ll know I’ve mastered my Elemental heritage.
Slowly, flames still flickering between my fingers, I slide my hand under the hem of my shirt. August’s stare follows my gesture, his heavy jaw tightening, ice blooming over his skin like winter flowers.
My curls tease my palm, sparking as if I were a live wire. When my touch makes contact with that perfect little bundle of nerves, my knees almost buckle, and I swear, I see August’s lips form a curse.
Pleasure rolls through me in time with my strokes. My eyes flutter, my muscles quiver, my heat rises.
But my fire keeps close to my skin, listening when I kindly ask it to. As if I’ve finally learned the intricate language needed to converse with the magic of my soul.
I have it under control.
As I grin in triumph, a soothing coolness trickles over my senses in time with the slide of the glass door opening.
August stalks toward me, ravenous gaze focused on my playful hand as I continue to touch myself.
“My turn,” he growls, sweeping my legs out from under me.
We end up sprawled on a poolside lounge chair, tangled together. As I straddle August’s hips, he thrusts into me and sucks on one of my taut nipples through my shirt.
We fuck fast, hard, and full of joy. After we finish, both of us lie, panting, our heavy breathing mixing with the sounds of the cicadas that fill the evening air.
Then, before I’ve fully recovered, August lifts me up again. Only, this time, the bastard walks us straight into the pool.
I get out one surprised shriek before the water envelops my head. When I come up for breath, I discover a laughing August.
“You’re dead!” I pounce, and a wrestling match ensues with ample dunking and splashing and giggling.
A piercing whistle has me pausing in the act of scaling August’s back. When I glance to the side of the pool, I find both of my sisters watching us. Harley lowers her fingers from her lips, smirking all the while. Cat wears a more chagrined smile, making an effort to avert her eyes.
August’s hands quickly dive beneath the surface to cover himself.
“So, you finally got laid?” Harley asks.
I’m too happy to let my big sister’s crassness bother me. Instead, I give her a middle-finger wave while wearing a self-satisfied grin.
“Damn right I did. And if you’re hoping to see me erupt into unplanned fireballs in the future, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
My younger sister gives a supportive cheer as she tosses a towel our way. August does his best to wrap the soggy material around his waist as a deep chuckle rumbles through his back. The sound vibrates against my chest, and the water around us begins to steam.
Harley hooks a companionable arm around Cat’s shoulders, guiding her toward the house. “Hear that? Now we can finally have half-naked men around the house. Thank the goddess.”