Page 55 of A Gold Medal in Love

I watch as my score tally is shown, and then my name is moved to first place. Katya Artymov, my main Russian competition, sits blessedly below me in second. Japan’s fierce competitor, Aiko Asada, still has yet to skate, so things aren’t certain. But… I might have just clinched the short round.

I brat the whole way from the arena, through dinner, and back to our room, but Blake simply heaps praise, smiles at me with those motherfucking dimples, and meets all of my attention-seeking behavior with laughter and confidence.

I hate that I love it.

When we’re back in the room, I move to the center and make a huge show of lowering myself into Nadu, while Blake leans insouciantly against the door in a tailored navy suit, no tie, just an open white shirt unbuttoned to their sternum to show off their inked and muscled body. Their eyes betray them as their gaze pierces into my skin—I’m almost shocked to discover that my clothes haven’t stripped away from the force of it. My pussy, however, is soaked like they’re already inside of me.

I lower my face, awaiting orders, but peek up from underneath my lashes to watch them.

Blake says nothing, just lazily puts a forearm against the door above their head and uses the fixed point to leverage themselves slowly off their lean, making their own show of disinterest.

Then they walk past me, and I hear the sounds of them taking off the suit that I’m now thinking of rubbing myself all over later, leaving my cum on all those quality seams.

I groan aloud.

Still, Blake says nothing. Instead, they start humming another The Aces song, and I’m startled to learn I’ve heard their soundtrack so often that it’s identifiable.

“What do I have to do?!” I wail, flinging backward on the floor in dramatic fashion.

Blake’s tattooed beefcake body appears above my vision, only covered by black boxer briefs and a sports bra.

To cover up my sexual frustration, I scoff at the rainbow bands along the top and bottom of the set.

“I was so good today. Why can’t I have you?” I whine, purposefully making a gigantic fuss.

Blake crouches down to bring their upside-down face closer to me, grabs me around my neck, and forces my face up to meet theirs. “You wereverygood today. But we use our words, don’t we?”

I stare at their lips and lick my own. Gulping, I answer, “Please, Sir. Kiss me. Fuck me. Use me.Rewardme.”

They bring our faces together and in a kiss Mary Jane Parker would be jealous of, Blake kisses me deeply, plunging their tongue into my mouth and then biting my lip so hard I wince. “Thank you for asking. Here’s what I’m offering: you and I will have a conversation after you stand on the podium. Until then, I’m going to fuck you like you’re a very bad girl. How does that sound?”

“Do I get to negotiate?” I question before I try to go back to their lips.

Blake squeezes my neck in warning and holds me off. “You always do. These are your scenes, too. What are your terms?”

“Can it be clear that I’myourbad girl?” I softly whisper, closing my eyes in fear of their response.

“Oh, Cupcake, there’s no question of that. You are avery, verybad girl. But I l—” Blake cuts off quickly, and my eyes fly open.

We stare into each other’s eyes for a second, neither one of us moving. Is this the moment? Listen, I don’t need this fucking complicated shit. But…

Blake loosens their grip on my neck, lowering me to the floor before standing to their full height. “I accept. Take off your outerwear. Leave your hair in the bun; leave your sweater, leotard, and legwarmers on.” Then they snap their fingers.

I move as quickly as I did on the ice, executing my orders as well as I did that triple axel. My heart is fluttering and my body is shaking. It’s concerning how addicted I’ve become to this. I need to be dominated, to be hit, to be treated so roughly it speaks of worship and regard. I don’t know if I still understand what we do, being so new to it, but I do know that the person I was before the games did not understand how much love there is in kink. I don’t want to look at it too hard now, either. It’s not enough that we dance around it through our actions; now Blake is struggling not to say it to me.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

BLAKE

I’m vibratingwith anger and frustration. Yes, Imani was so brilliant I cried today. She was both unprecedentedly good today, while also giving the performance that everyone expected. I had nothing to do with her getting here, but I will be so proud to be the person she comes to with that fresh medallion.

But she’s destroying herself, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Love her through it, I guess?

She won’t talk to me about what’s going on. The new deal is that we’re due for a chat post-game. Fine. Until then, I’ll take her to her limits while also taking my frustration out on her body. Safely, of course. PRICK (Personal Responsibility Informed Consensual Kink) and all that. I would never kink with her unless I were confident that I could control my rage. But you can work a lot out through BDSM, and I intend to break us both down tonight.

Moving to my closet, I pull out my Blues hat and flip it on, tracing the brim behind my head when I settle it on. Then I grab my wooden paddle with rainbow LEGOs on one side. We haven’t done any impact save my very rough hands so far, so I’ll start with the wooden side. If she can handle it, we will level up.