Chapter 21 #2
He pushes my sweater up higher until the cold rink air bites at my newly exposed skin. I gasp, shivering as goosebumps break out everywhere he uncovers.
He notices.
His gloved fingers trace the line of my leggings, his touch warm against the cold. Then he drags his knuckles up my ribs, all the way to my black sports bra.
I arch my back, giving him permission to slip his hand under. The second his hand palms my breast, I gasp.
“Scotty,” I breathe out, desperately asking for something but too afraid to say it out loud, and too dizzy to think straight.
One of his gloved hands settles back on my hip, guiding my body to writhe against his.
It’s only when I’m trembling under him that he drops his hand between my legs and cups me through my clothes.
I moan, the sound reverberating off the rink walls.
“That’s it,” he husks out, his fingers pressing into the fabric of my leggings, only making me want more. “Tell me you like this.”
I bite down on my bottom lip just as his thumb puts a little pressure on my clit.
“It’s not enough,” I squeak out with my eyes closed. “I need more,” I whisper, threading my hands through his hair.
He pulls back, making me open my eyes and meet his.
“You sure about that, Princess?” he asks just as his thumb presses harder against my clit.
My hips jerk, my head falls back against the boards, and that’s all the answer he needs.
He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even bother removing his glove as he slides his hand past the waistband of my leggings, then under my panties.
I gasp, my whole body arching because the rough fabric of his glove is cold against my skin. I try to squirm away from the shock of it, but he catches my mouth in a kiss, swallowing the sound, the nerves, the anticipation…everything as his gloved fingers stroke over my clit for the first time.
It’s unreal.
The friction of the fabric—cool, textured—over a place that’s been starving for him, waiting for him. My breath leaves in a strangled noise, and my legs nearly buckle.
“Scotty—” is all I can get out.
He doesn’t stop.
He shifts back and pushes my sports bra up, leaving my breasts exposed. The air hits me instantly—tightening everything, making me ache.
His fingers keep working my clit as he takes in my bare body, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
“Fuck, Princess. Your nipples are so hard for me. I’m gonna suck them until you’re shaking.”
Without another word, he lowers his head and licks my nipple, his warm tongue curling around the tight peak. He takes his time, like he’s savoring the first taste. The heat makes my body melt, but when he pulls back, the cold air hits the wet peak, turning the sensation sharp, and almost electric.
I let out a broken cry, unable to control it.
He smiles against my skin, clearly pleased with himself. Then he tilts his head and moves to the other nipple. He licks slowly at first, tracing the tight peak in lazy circles that make my legs shake. Then he closes his mouth around it, sucking harder.
His gloved fingers never stop circling my clit. If anything, the way I’m squirming from his mouth makes him stroke me with more purpose.
“Scotty…please…” My voice breaks on the last word.
He lifts his mouth from my breast, the cold air hitting the wet skin again and sending another jolt straight through me.
“Please, what, Princess?” His lips graze my nipple before he licks it again, teasing me with short, soft strokes.
“I…I need…”
I can’t finish.
He pulls back just enough to look down at my thighs trembling around his hand. “You want more?”
Before I can nod, he slides his fingers lower, past my clit, and presses gently at my entrance.
Then he pushes one gloved finger inside me.
I gasp so hard my back arches off the boards. The fabric is cold inside me, the chill hitting a place that has never felt anything like this. The glove is stiff and textured, sliding against me in a way that sends shock waves straight through my core. It shouldn’t feel good, but it does.
“Fuck…” I choke out, gripping his shoulders, nails digging in.
His finger freezes halfway inside me, and he watches every inch of my reaction. “Feel that?” he murmurs, kissing my breasts again. “You like how that glove feels inside you?”
I bite my bottom lip, unable to hide how badly I’m shaking.
“Yes,” I whisper with my eyes closed as I focus on the feeling.
He groans softly, the sound dark and hungry. Then he pushes his finger in all the way, the fabric dragging along my walls, sending a pulse of heat through me that makes my thighs clench around his hand.
“Princess,” he growls, his breath shaking. “You’re drenching my glove. I can feel it through the fabric.”
He curls the finger inside me, slow and devastating.
“And I’ve only given you one.”
He slides a second gloved finger to my entrance, pressing gently, letting me feel the cold fabric there first. The anticipation coils so tight inside me it almost hurts. Then, with a slow, filthy push, he eases it inside next to the first.
I cry out, the sound sharp and helpless.
The glove makes everything feel bigger, fuller. The stiff fabric doesn’t give the way skin does. It keeps its shape, stretching me more than I’ve ever been stretched.
“Oh—God—Scotty…” My back arches, hips lifting into his hand like I can’t stop myself.
He exhales a shaky groan against my breast. “Yeah… that’s it. Take both of them for me.”
He pushes his fingers in deeper, and the fullness hits me all at once—cold, textured, overwhelming—unlocking a sound from my throat I’ve never heard myself make. It feels decadent. It feels obscene. It feels like too much and not enough all at once.
He curls both fingers inside me.
My entire body jolts.
“Scotty—” I gasp, voice breaking. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His tone is dark, determined. “You’re taking them so well.”
Then his thumb finds my clit.
I choke on a cry as the cold pad of the glove rubs in slow circles, adding another layer of sensation that sends heat spiraling through my belly. My legs begin shaking uncontrollably, trapped between the cold rink air and the feverish burn of pleasure building inside me.
“You feel how full you are?” he murmurs, kissing my breast, his breath warm against the nipple he just teased.
He presses his sweatpants-covered crotch against my thigh. “Feel what you’re doing to me?”
I can barely form words. “Yes—yes, I feel it—”
His thumb presses harder.
My hips jerk. My head falls back against the boards. I’m panting now, every breath fast and broken as the pleasure climbs too quickly, too intensely, wave after wave hitting me with no space to breathe.
“That’s it,” he whispers, fingers stroking inside me with a slow, unrelenting pace. “Come for me, Princess. Right on my hand.”
His thumb circles again.
And I break.
My climax hits in a sharp, blinding rush. My body clamps down around his fingers, pulling him deeper, holding him there as the orgasm rips through me. I cry out, the sound echoing off the empty rink, my legs shaking around his wrist.
Scotty holds me through it, keeping his fingers buried inside me, thumb still teasing lightly as the aftershocks roll through my body in waves.
He keeps his fingers exactly where they are—inside me, filling me, holding me open—until the last tremor fades and I finally collapse against him, boneless and breathless.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, his mouth warm against my cold skin.
“Princess,” he whispers, sounding almost undone. “You about killed me with that.”
For a moment, we just stand there, sharing the same breath, the only sound the faint scrape of our skates carving into the ice as we shift.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His fingers are still inside me, and I’m still pressed against him, breathing too hard, trying to come back to myself.
Then Scotty finally, slowly, withdraws.
I shiver. Not from the temperature, but from the loss of him.
He steadies me with a hand on my waist, then lowers his gaze to my chest. With a gentleness that doesn’t match anything we just did, he tugs my sports bra back into place, cupping my breast through the fabric for a brief second like he can’t quite help himself.
Then he pulls my sweater down over me, smoothing it against my ribs.
The tenderness undoes me more than the orgasm did.
My heart jumps to my throat.
The audition.
My future.
And Scotty.
Everything hits me all at once.
“Oh God,” I whisper, pulling back a fraction. “I—Scotty, I can’t—this is—”
He frowns, brow creasing. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“What the hell are we doing?” The words blurt out before I can stop them, and I instantly want to sink into the ice and disappear. “I know I shouldn’t be asking that right after… that. I don’t do these kinds of things normally. I should be focused on my audition and not—”
“Princess.” Scotty cups my jaw, stopping the spiral cold. He tilts my chin up so I’m forced to look straight into his eyes. “Like I said before, we’re whatever you want us to be.”
My stomach flips. “You can’t say that. Not when I have an audition tomorrow. Not when everything is already—”
He cuts me off with a kiss.
It’s slower than before, grounding me.
“Don’t think about us tonight,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Focus on the audition.”
That’s easy for him to say. My mind is spinning.
Scotty. The audition. Him touching me. Him kissing me. Him saying things like that.
It’s all too much, too fast, too intense, and I don’t know how to hold any of it.
“I-I should go,” I whisper, though my body doesn’t move an inch.
I’m running. I know, but I can’t stand here, freezing in a rink, dissecting the intricacies of what getting glove finger fucked by Scotty Hendricks means right now.
He exhales gently, his breath fogging the cold space between us. “As you wish. You have a big day tomorrow.”
I finally slip out of his hold. “Thanks… for helping me.”
Scotty’s eyes lift to mine, and his blue eyes look lighter than usual. “Always, Princess.”
I turn away before I can second-guess everything.
My legs feel unsteady, but not from the skating.
As I make my way toward the exit, I glance back just once.
He’s still standing there by the boards, watching me like I’m the only thing left holding his attention together, and somehow, that terrifies me more than tomorrow’s audition ever could.