Chapter 17
Roman
“Shh, you’re okay.” I know the moment she recognizes my voice because she sags with relief, her back tightly held to my chest, my hard cock under her. “I’ll remove my hand if you promise me one thing.”
She nods, and I can feel her fast, deep exhales on my fingers
I keep my voice low but no less authoritative. “You’re gonna ride my cock and make me come without making a sound. Can you do that for me?” She nods faster.
“Good girl,” I purr coarsely and slowly pull my hand away. As I do, she quickly rucks up the skirt of her dress. She’s in the same outfit she wore to dinner with one noticeable difference.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I growl into her neck when I feel the heat of her bare pussy through the condom. “Put me inside you.” The order comes out rushed and hungry. No matter how hard I try, I can’t hide the effect she has on me. I should stop trying.
A whiny moan leaves her as she lowers herself onto my cock. “And remember, not a sound.” My last word is strangled as I try to take my own advice while my cock slips into her slick cunt. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I can’t help but whisper roughly into her ear.
She has her legs on either side of mine, then begins slowly riding me. I feel her inner muscles squeeze every time she forces herself back down on my cock. My fingers grip her hips and sink into the soft flesh. Every wet slide of her pussy has me digging in my fingers just a little more.
“That’s it, baby, fuck me just like that.” Pleasure spreads through my body like molten lust. It burns and warms at the same time.
The harder she rides me, the more her heavy breaths morph into moans. Finally, she stutters out, “I-I don’t think I c-can be quiet. Will you c-cover my mouth?”
As soon as I do, she releases a moan that would have been loud enough to get us caught if not for my palm, as if her pleasure could no longer be contained. Something I can quite viscerally relate to as my own feels like a dam about to break.
“Fuck, fu—” I bite down hard on her shoulder in a last-ditch effort to stay quiet.
She screams into my hand as my teeth dig into the muscle.
Something about her muffled cry sends me over the edge.
It’s desperate and raw. And the sweetest, most erotic soundtrack as I come, groaning into her shoulder.
“I’ve never been a huge fan of shopping, but you may have just changed my mind,” I mutter teasingly as we walk to the cashier to check out.
Her cheeks are still flushed a pretty pink, and I bet her thighs are still slick. “Yeah, thrifting is great.” She tries to sound cool and casual.
She’s not going to get away with that, not with me.
I subtly reach for her ass and squeeze one of the supple cheeks, hard. Hard enough her whole back tenses. “This being a thrift store had nothing to do with it.” She gives me a guilty little look. “And you know it.”
“I might have some idea.” She smiles mischievously and leans into my side. I can’t resist wrapping my arm around her waist to keep her there.
At the register, the cashier scans our basket of ornaments one by one. I see Ren eyeing a flyer advertising the local ice rink’s holiday special. Rather than continue to listen to the incessant beep , I ask her, flicking my chin at the flyer, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”
“Nope. No plans.” The smile she gives me makes my lungs stop working, like with one question I’ve made all her wildest dreams come true. What did I do to deserve someone as precious as her? “You?”
I tongue my cheek. “All free.”
The Fox family has bookmaking operations for just about every professional team or sporting event in the city.
The South Harbor Ice Arena, home to the June Harbor Hailstorms, is no different.
So when the head of security spots Ren and me as we check out our rental skates, he immediately looks like he just got caught with his pants down.
I’m rarely involved at the street level. So, if I’m here, it usually means someone has really fucked up. He swallows and says something into his radio before making his way over to us with a grave face.
Ren, who’s chatting with the rental guy, hasn’t noticed our silent interaction or his approach. And I’d really prefer he doesn’t look like he’s about to shit his pants when she does.
I try to get ahead of it as soon as he says, “Roman, we weren’t expecting you.”
“I’m not here on business, Mike,” I assure him, and he visibly relaxes, just in time for Ren to turn around. “Mike, this is Ren, and we’re just here to skate.”
“Well, we’re happy to have you,” he says overenthusiastically. Ren smiles politely and says it’s nice meeting him but gives me shifty eyes. “Today’s on the house. Got that, Ryan?” He looks to the guy getting our skates.
“Yeah, sure,” Ryan says like he could give two flying shits. “I’ll still need them back ten minutes before close.”
“That won’t be a problem.” I grab Ren’s and my skates off the counter and lift them as if cheersing. “And thanks, Mike.”
“Enjoy the ice.” He sends us off.
“So . . . ,” Ren begins curiously. “You come here a lot for business?”
“Not a lot,” I say as she sits down on benches closer to the rink. I lower to one knee in front of her and pick up her foot.
“I gather this falls under the less than legal side of things?” she asks while I untie her boot. We stopped by her place on the way here so she could change into something that wouldn’t cause frost bite in unmentionable places or get her arrested for public indecency if she fell.
I slip off her shoe and start loosening the laces on the skates. “Something like that.”
“Got it,” she smiles tersely.
I hate being evasive like this, but it’s for her own good. Mostly.
Still, it grates something inside me.
“There are a lot of reasons I’m being vague, the greatest of which is for your safety. If that’s ever not enough, we can talk about it, alright?” I try to be diplomatic but also sensible.
Cass hated that I couldn’t tell her everything. She felt like I was always lying to her rather than strategically and purposefully withholding information that she didn’t need to know.
“I get it.” Ren nods, her tone lighter, more understanding. “Plausible deniability and all that.”
“Something like that,” I say again, but this time my lip quirks with a small smile.
I finish putting on and lacing up her skates, then quickly do mine. She watches me and asks, “Seems like you really know what you’re doing?”
“I played a little hockey growing up,” I admit. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been on the ice, so no laughing if I look like Bambi out there.”
She laughs. “Well, I’ve never skated before, so hopefully it’s like riding a bike because if not, we’ll both be on our asses.”
“I’d hate for anything to hurt that perfect ass of yours,” I tease as I help her to her feet. She wobbles a little on the rubber floor and stumbles a step closer to me to regain her balance, squeezing my hands.
I lean forward, and she naturally tilts her face up. Our noses almost brush. Then, right before I kiss her, I add, “Other than my hand of course.”
I’m trying to coax her away from the boards that she is gripping onto for dear life. “I know it’s counterintuitive, but you’re more likely to fall if you keep holding that.”
By the glare she shoots me, you’d think I just horrifically insulted the world’s cutest puppies. “Says the man skating backward after saying it’s been a while and not to laugh if he looks like Bambiiiii,” she squeals as her legs slip out from under her and her arms windmill.
I grab her by the waist, catching her before she becomes Bambi herself. Once she’s no longer flailing, I take both of her hands in mine. “Do you believe me now?”
She huffs, trying to blow a lock of hair out of her face that fell during the scuffle. “Begrudgingly.”
I help her out, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear then slowly beginning to move, skating backward to gently pull her along with me. She never takes her untrusting stare off her feet, her movements choppy and awkward.
“Try not to overthink it. Your body will naturally figure out how to keep itself upright.”
She squeezes my hands as she wobbles again. “How am I supposed to do that? It’s all I can think about.”
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I suggest.
“You’re the first man to ever make me come—” That gets her attention off her feet. Her eyes are huge when she suddenly looks up as if shocked those words came out of her mouth. “Any chance I didn’t say that out loud?”
“I was expecting something more along the lines of a broken arm when you were six, but . . .” I try not to laugh in the face of her clear mortification.
“Oh my god.” She groans and squeezes her eyes shut then cracks one open. “Does that freak you out?”
“What?” Now I’m genuinely shocked. “God, no.”
She grimaces like she doesn’t believe me.
“Not only do I find it incredibly hot that I’m the only man alive who knows what it feels like to make you tremble like a dirty, little slut .
. .” Her eyes widen again at my word choice and I smirk, glad that they had the desired effect of successfully distracting her from her misplaced embarrassment.
“But it makes me far less likely to murder your dipshit of an ex if I ever see him.”
That gets her to throw her head back with a laugh, and I feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery.
“And do you realize you’ve now skated halfway around the rink?”
“Would you look at that.” She looks around at our progress in delighted surprise. When her gaze returns to me, she says, “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
I don’t even have to think about it. “I didn’t drink coffee regularly until three months ago.”
She smiles and nods knowingly. “Is that when you first had June Bug’s? I swear it’s the best in the city.”
“No. That’s when I first saw you.”
1. Play "Gimme Love"—Rosenfeld