Page 121 of Secrets on Ice

“Why did you leave, Sully?” Her question is more urgent.

“You know why,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, her chin up, her eyes wet, and she's swaying very slightly on her feet, and she says, “Say it.”

“We agreed.”

“I know what we agreed.” Her hand comes up, landing flat on my chest, right where the blonde's did, and it is not the same, it is nothing like the same. It goes through me like a current. “Say it anyway.”

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not that drunk,” she argues.

“Ember …”

And then she kisses me. I’d love to say I stop her, but I don’t. I get one hand under her jaw and one at her waist and lift her clean onto the island, and she’s laughing into my mouth, and then she isn’t. The second her legs wrap around me, the laugh dies. Her mouth turns hungry, open, desperate. I kiss her like I’ve been starving for weeks, tongue deep, teeth nipping her bottom lip, one hand fisted in her hair so I can tilt her head exactly how I want her. She moans into me, fingers digging into my shoulders, and I can feel how wet she already is through the thin fabric of whatever she’s wearing under that dress.

“Fuck, Em,” I growl against her mouth, shoving the dress up her thighs. “You taste like champagne and bad decisions.”

She laughs again, breathless, and then bites my lip hard enough to sting. I groan and shove her thighs wider, stepping between them. My cock is already rock-hard against the front of my jeans, and when she rolls her hips against me, I nearly lose it right there.

I yank the dress higher, exposing the scrap of lace she calls underwear. One hard tug and it’s gone, tossed somewhere behind me. She’s bare and dripping for me, and the sight of her on my kitchen island, flushed, lips swollen, thighs spread, almost drops me to my knees.

I don’t wait.

I drop my head between her legs and lick her open in one long, filthy stroke. She cries out, hands flying to my hair, and I don’t ease up. I eat her like I’ve been thinking about this every single night since I walked away from her bed. Tongue deep, fingers sliding in, curling, fucking her while I suck her clit hard enough that her thighs shake around my head.

“Sully …. Oh God …”

“Come on my tongue,” I order against her, voice rough. “Right fucking now.”

She does. Hard. Legs clamping around my head, a broken moan tearing out of her as she soaks my mouth. I keep licking her through it, slower now, until she’s twitching and whimpering, pushing at my shoulders.

I stand, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and free my cock, but I don’t have time to grab a condom, I’m too far gone to stop now as I drag her to the edge of the island, line up, and push in with one long, deep thrust that makes both of us groan.

She’s so tight around me it borders on pain. Perfect.

I don’t go slow. I fuck her hard and deep, one hand braced on the counter beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. Every thrust makes her tits bounce under the dress I never bothered taking off. She’s moaning my name, nails scraping down my back, meeting me thrust for thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” I rasp against her ear. “Missed this pussy. Missed how you take me.”

She comes again with a sharp cry, clenching around me so hard I have to grit my teeth not to follow. I pull out, flip her over so her chest is pressed to the cool marble, and slam back in from behind. Deeper. Harder. One hand in her hair, the other reaching around to rub her clit in tight circles.

“One more,” I demand. “Give me one more.”

She does, sobbing my name into the counter as she falls apart again. The way she squeezes me pulls my own orgasm out of me in a low, guttural groan. I bury myself deep and come so hard my vision whites out for a second.

We stay like that, panting, her cheek pressed to the marble, my forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

Eventually, I pull out and grab a dish towel to wipe myself from between her thighs and help her down. Her legs are shaky. Mine aren’t much better. She looks up at me, eyes glassy, lips swollen, as she pulls the dress down over her.

“You didn’t use a condom?” Her eyes widen at me.

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry … I …”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I got tested, and I’m on the pill. It should be fine.”

“It was fucking stupid. I’ve never been so reckless,” I tell her.