Get Inked: A Pucked Series and Clipped Wings Crossover Novella (Pucked #5.5)(32)

“There’s no way you’ll come before I have to get on the ice, and then we have to sit in a car with Sunny and Miller. You’ll have to behave yourself for two hours with blue balls. How pleasant is that going to be for you?”

“I’m already gonna have blue balls, so it’s not like it actually matters if I come. I can take care of myself after I take care of you.”

I’m straddling the bench, so he plants a knee between my legs and leans forward. At the same time, he twines his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, angling my head back as if he’s planning to kiss me.

“You can’t wait until we get to the cottage to get me off?” It’s taking a superhuman amount of self-restraint not to shift against his strategically placed knee.

“I can, but I don’t want to.” He drops his head so his mouth is close to mine. “Come on, luscious. You send me all these pictures of you in your skating gear; now you’re gonna deny me what you’ve been enticing me with for the past four hours?”

He smells fantastic, like the cologne I bought him for Valentine’s Day. “You asked for those pictures.”

“I know. Now I want to thank you for them by making you come.”

“How are you planning to make me come?” It’s a challenge to remember why this isn’t a great idea with him looking so good and talking about giving me orgasms.

“How ’bout with my fingers?”

“I’m fully dressed.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me before.”

He has a point. He can make me come just by rubbing up on me. Our chemistry is ridiculous.

I finally give in when he kisses me. I should feel bad that I’m about to receive an orgasm at work, in the changing room, but Randy’s good at persuasion, and providing pleasure, so it’s hard to feel anything other than excitement.

He brings his knee forward, and I start grinding on him right away.

I can hear his smile. “That’s it; take what you want, baby.”

I nip at his lip, aware he’s playing with me. I’ll get him back later. He slips his tongue in my mouth and starts a slow, stroking rhythm that in no way matches the slightly desperate way I’m grinding against his knee. Randy has that effect. He knows it, and he likes to use it to his advantage.

His hand stays where it is, cradling my head as we kiss. I keep rolling my hips, wishing he was hitting my special spot with a more precise body part, such as the fingers he talked about. I reach between us and palm him—he’s extra hard—through his pants. Now I wish actual sex was an option not impeded by the barrier of clothing, which I’m beginning to think is part of his master plan.

Randy enjoys getting me all amped up and then leaving me hanging—well, not totally. I always get to come, but he won’t, and I don’t like the inequity in that. I’m already close though, so I’ll make it work until we have the opportunity to do this naked. With more privacy. Just as the tingles begin to spread, Randy backs off. I groan and grab for his belt buckle, but he breaks the kiss and puts one wide palm on the center of my chest, urging me to lie back on the bench.

“What’re you doing? I was almost there.” I’m snappy. It makes him smile.

“I said I was gonna use my fingers.” He pushes them under the elastic of my leotard and skims the hot, damp skin between my legs, still barred by a pair of tights and panties. The palm on my chest moves lower, his fingertips gliding over my left breast and down my stomach. When he reaches the leg hole, he slips that hand under as well.

Finding the waistband of my tights, he yanks them roughly over my hips, pulling them down until they reach the crotch of my skating outfit. Then he goes back for my panties and does the same.

“Do you have any idea how often I think about f*cking you like this?”

Randy has a thing for my skating outfits, as evidenced by our current situation. We’ve had sex while I’m wearing one of my competition leotards—the kind with all the sequins and decorative crap. There weren’t any panties or tights to get in the way, though. It was just a matter of moving the crotch to the side and getting in there. That sex was insane.

“I assume it’s a daily thing,” I say snarkily.

“You assume correctly.” He shifts the material so he can access my Vagina Emporium. Threads strain and snap.

“Careful.” I don’t want my outfit totally stretched out in the name of an orgasm.

“I’ll buy you a new one when I wreck this.”

I note there’s no if. “I don’t have a spare here.”

Randy is either too focused on getting his fingers where he wants them, or he’s ignoring me. I assume it’s a combination of the two. He caresses my clit with the back of his fingers as he tries to make room for his hand. I gasp and bite my lip to stifle my moan. The walls in here are cinderblock and great for acoustics, not so great for covert orgasms.

He fumbles around in his back pocket, producing his phone.

I prop myself up on an elbow. “Seriously? You need to do that right now?”

“You actually need to ask that question? This is like…” A few facial tics follow, and he opens and closes his mouth before the words finally come. “If they actually made figure-skating porn, I’d have a real problem.”

“I think you already have a real problem.”