Chapter 50 Hannah
HANNAH
Idon’t live far from Thomas’s parent’s house, but with each house and block that goes by, my anxiety grows.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, trying to stay visibly calm.
If Thomas notices that I’m anxious, he’ll do anything he can to stop it, and I’ll feel bad.
I shouldn’t be this anxious to meet his parents and see his family again.
They’re all such nice people, and I don’t want Thomas to think I don’t want to meet his family. I do. My brain won’t cooperate.
Thomas has his right hand on my thigh underneath the fabric of my dress as he smoothes his rough thumb over the soft skin.
I can sense my anxiety getting higher with each passing second, so I grab my water bottle from the center console, opening the lid and taking a drink of water, letting an ice cube slide between my lips.
I’m not at the point where I usually would be when I need ice to ground me, but I can feel myself getting there, so I’m trying to get ahead of it.
I let the ice rest on my tongue, taking deep inhales through my nose.
“Hannah?” Thomas glances over at me.
“Hmm?” I ask, pushing the ice to the side of my mouth.
“Breathe for me, baby.”
“I am,” I mumble, inhaling sharply.
Thomas narrows his eyes at me, slowing the car and turning off the main road. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“You need a minute, so I’m giving you a minute,” he explains. He turns in the opposite direction. “I’m going to help you calm down.”
“What—” I’m not able to say another word as he covers my mouth, driving us a few miles until we’re on a secluded dirt road that is covered in trees without a mailbox or driveway in sight.
“Lay your seat back,” he instructs, removing his hand from my mouth and unbuckling his seatbelt.
“What?” I shriek.
Thomas gestures to my seat. When I don’t immediately move, he leans over me, hooking the lever so I fly backwards.
“Oh,” I breathe, the earlier anxiety replaced by confusion. Thomas flips the center console up, scooting over and unbuckling my seat belt.
“Take another drink of your water and grab me an ice cube, baby,” he whispers, his eyes darkening as they roam my face.
I do as he says, taking a swallow of water and fishing a cube out. I hold it on my tongue, and Thomas cups my cheek, parting my lips so I can transfer the cold cube to his mouth. He trails his lips down my jaw, to my neck.
“Thomas, we should go,” I try to say, but the words disappear on my lips as his mouth opens, letting the ice touch the sensitive skin on my neck.
I gasp, leaning into his touch. His hand reaches up to cup my breast through my dress, then slowly slides down my stomach to my pussy. He cups it through my dress, pressing the heel of his palm to my clit. “Someone could see.”
“I don’t care,” he mumbles, licking a path across my breasts, his tongue frosty on my warm skin.
He slides his hand under the long hem of my dress, flipping it back over to cover my legs and pussy from sight. I instinctively spread my legs open further for him.
“Lift up, baby,” he directs. I do as he says, and he shifts the backside of my dress up and my panties down. He presses me back down so my ass is directly on the cold leather.
Thomas takes the ice cube between his lips, using his other hand to pop it from his mouth.
He holds it between his fingers, sliding over my folds where I’m already soaked for him.
He presses it against my pussy. The cold sends a jolt through me, surprising me.
It doesn’t turn me off though. If anything, it makes me even wetter.
Fingers press into my wetness. The ice cube is being traced on my mound, the cold sending shivers up and down my spine as the unexpected pleasure takes over.
My pussy is dripping with both water and my own wetness. I’m probably going to have a wet spot on the seat, but at the moment, I don’t care.
“How does it feel?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with so much lust.
“Amazing,” I breathe, my head dropping onto the headrest.
“Good, now relax, and feel, baby.”
The cold ice rests on my clit while his frigid fingers pump in and out of me. He moves the cube from my clit, strumming his thumb over the even more sensitive bundle of nerves.
He’s right, though. I’m not even anxious anymore. Every ounce of anxiety is replaced with need.
The heat from my pussy melts the ice fast, replacing the cold with a building heat as I get closer and closer to orgasm.
At this point, Thomas knows my body better than I know my own, and with each meticulous stroke of his fingers, I tense until finally, my climax takes over, my body shuddering into the seat.
When the aftershocks fade, Thomas slides his fingers out, sucking them clean. “Oh, fuck,” I breathe. Every time he does that, it’s such an erotic sight that my pussy thumps in delight.
“Feeling better?” he asks, a smile on his lips.
I nod. “I’m wet.”
“Good, then I did my job,” he says cockily.
“No, I mean, yes,” I groan. “You did your job, but my ass is soaked from the ice cube.”
“I have napkins,” Thomas replies with a smile, digging into the glove box and pulling out a stack of napkins. He cleans between my thighs and then has me get out so he can round the truck and wipe the seat and my ass clean.
He helps pull my underwear back up, squeezing my ass and kissing me sweetly. “Ice works in many ways for you, it seems.”
I blush furiously. I will never look at ice the same way.