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.
Myhips 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.
