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gio

S preadsheets.

Of all the weird shit you can say on a date, she leads with that.

Singing. Running.

Blow jobs.

All better options!

I glance over at her as the car, driven by the hired driver I arranged for tonight, glides smoothly down the nearly empty street, her clutch balanced on her lap, legs crossed at the ankle, the hem of her dress barely brushing her thighs.

The purr of the engine is the only sound, my focus is entirely on her—on the way the streetlights outside catch the soft curves of her profile and the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

I slide my hand onto her thigh—absentmindedly, as if it were the natural thing to do—not too high, not too low—just to feel the warmth of her skin through the sheer fabric of that sexy dress.

The fabric is something sheer and shimmery, clinging to her body like it was poured on; her hips. Waist.

Tits .

They’re impossible to ignore , framed by a neckline that’s low enough to turn me on— but high enough to keep it classy.

Jesus, I can barely keep my eyes off them.

I’ve already weighed and measured them in my mind, determined they’re perfectly full, the kind of size that would fill my palms just right.

They rise and fall with each breath she takes, and I catch myself staring for a split second too long before forcing my eyes back to hers.

Not that it matters.

Austin already caught me looking at least three times tonight, the ghost of a knowing smile playing at her lips every time she catches me peeking.

And honestly? Not sorry.

I am such a boob guy .

She doesn’t move my hand when I slide it across the flesh of her leg; rather, shifting her hips in a way that tells me she likes it.

Smooth.

Freshly shaved.

“You good?” I ask, keeping my tone casual, as though my hand isn’t resting exactly where it is.

“I am.” Her lips curve into a smile when she turns her head away from the window to look at me. “Thank you for dinner.”

She’s thanked me twice already, but I’ll take it.

I let my fingers linger, my thumb brushing lightly against the fabric, just enough to tease, and lean in closer, catching the faintest trace of her perfume—a mix of something sweet and floral that makes my pulse quicken.

Unable to resist, I tilt my head and press a soft, deliberate kiss against the curve of her neck.

She inhales.

Lets out the tiniest groan.

My cock stiffens when she shifts again, lilting her head to the side—it’s an invitation to keep going. Keep kissing her neck.

So, I do .

My lips trail lower, brushing against the sensitive parts of her skin, the sound of her breath catching again is enough to make me tighten my grip on her thigh.

God damn, I’m in the mood to fuck .

Maybe I can ask the driver to keep going around the block and?—

“Gio,” my date murmurs, voice barely rising a fraction.

I raise my head. “Hmm?” My reply is against her skin, the vibration of my voice next to her ear earning me the slightest shiver.

“I think we’re here.” She taps me on the leg. “We’re not driving anymore.”

Fuck.

She’s right.

The car has indeed come to a stop, the soft idle of the engine now filling the silence.

The timing sucks.

I pull back just enough to glance out the window, catching sight of the private lot outside the arena, illuminated by overhead lights. My jaw tightens, a mix of frustration and anticipation bubbling to the surface.

This moment? Ruined. But the next one will be perfect, I’m sure of it.

Her gaze follows mine, brows furrowing slightly as the wheels in her head start to turn. I can see the questions forming behind those curious eyes.

“Wait—are we at—?” she begins, turning to face me fully.

“C’mon,” I cut her off, sliding my hand from her thigh and grabbing hers, giving it a tug. “You’ll see.”

Her hand tightens around mine when I help her out of the vehicle, though whether it’s from excitement or nerves, I can’t tell. Maybe both. She steps out gracefully, clutching her bag while her eyes sweep over the building in front of us.

“Oh my God, what are we doing here?”

She sounds like a kid on Christmas morning and I can’t help but feel a swelling sense of pride as I lead her toward the private entrance.

“Did you bring me to skate? I’m in heels,” she asks, her voice laced with playful suspicion.

I shake my head as I swipe the keycard over the door pad and pull it open, holding it so she can walk in ahead of me.

“Trust,” I say, grin widening.

She steps through cautiously, her high heels clacking softly against the concrete floor. Her hand grips my arm, steadying herself as if she doesn’t fully trust the shoes she chose for tonight.

The moment we step inside, we’re hit by an explosion of cool air, the unmistakable chill from the rink’s air conditioning wrapping around us.

Her steps slow almost immediately, and I feel her hand tighten over my bicep.

Austin's eyes widen as the rink comes into view—a massive expanse of pristine, gleaming ice that stretches out endlessly under the glow of the overhead lights.

It’s a sight to behold when there’s not a single soul around, and even I take a second to appreciate it.

George, the rink manager, leans casually against the Zamboni, his attention fixed on his cell phone. His thick fingers tap at the screen with a slow deliberation that says he’s in no hurry.

Her gaze flickers from George to the Zamboni, then back to me, her lips parting in disbelief.

“Stop it right now,” she whispers in disbelief. “We are not.”

“Oh, but we are,” I say, my grin widening as I pull her a little closer to the edge of the ice.

She turns her whole body to me, eyes wide and sparkling with a mix of excitement—and disbelief.

“You’re kidding. ”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I reply, gesturing toward the massive machine at the same time George realizes he’s no longer alone and begins lumbering toward us.

“Finally,” he grunts, his voice rough and low, like gravel. “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

Burly old shit .

Always a ray of sunshine.

“You know me,” I reply, my tone breezy as I keep Austin close to my side. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

George snorts, giving me a once-over before shifting his gaze to Austin. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s sizing her up, but there’s a faint twitch of amusement in his expression.

“This the reason you’ve been blowing up my phone all week?” he asks, jerking his chin toward her.

“No comment.”

I shoot him a look, but he’s already turned back toward the Zamboni, muttering something under his breath about “kids these days,” and “no respect.”

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he gripes loudly, throwing the words over his shoulder. “Try not to wreck anything.”

George grunts one more time for good measure before trudging off toward the office. His heavy boots stomp against the stairs and he doesn’t bother looking back again, already done with us.

Austin bites back a laugh, her lips twitching. “What a delight.”

“Don’t let it fool you,” I whisper back, smirking. “Deep down, he hates everyone equally.”

“This is a dream come true,” she squeals, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. “I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I don’t even care that I’m in a dress and my boobs are falling out.”

With zero shame, she adjusts the neckline of her dress, tugging it a little higher, her movements carefree.

“They look fine,” I say, fighting the urge to stare. “Better than fine, actually. ”

Her tits look so great, especially now that they’re struggling to stay concealed.

LET THEM brEATHE! I say.

She gives another yip, turning her attention back to the Zamboni. “Alright, what’s next? Do we just climb on?”

Climb on…

Images of her on top of me, moaning—riding me—suddenly flood my brain.

Quit being such a fucking pervert .

She beams, bouncing in place, tits jiggling.

“I’m driving first?”

“Uh. Of course,” I say, stepping aside to give her space. “Ladies first, right?” I guide her toward the side of the Zamboni, planting my hand on the edge of the small step. “Put your foot here, then you pull yourself up.”

She climbs onto the machine carefully, still in her high heels, with more enthusiasm than grace, dress hitching up her thighs, giving me a clear shot of a sliver of thong and her bare ass.

I do not avert my gaze, staring directly at it.

“Stop staring at my ass.”

An impossible task when I want to bury my face there …

“You coming?” She’s parked in the seat, both hands already gripping the steering wheel.

I clear my throat, forcing my focus back to the moment as I climb up after her and plop into the second seat. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Her hands tighten on the wheel, her excitement almost radiating off her in waves. “We only have twenty minutes, so let’s get this show on the road.”

Bossy little thing.

I smirk, leaning back slightly and gesturing toward the controls.

“Alright, first things first. We’re not going to turn on the board brush or actually shave the ice—or shine it. This is a test drive, not a full-on maintenance job. You’re just gonna drive.”

Austin nods eagerly, her smile so wide and genuine it’s impossible not to get caught up in it. The way her eyes light up, her whole face glowing—it’s rare to see someone so unguardedly happy.

And damn if it isn’t contagious.

I’m happy she’s happy…

“Okay, what do I do?” she asks, glancing at the various levers and buttons like she’s sitting in the cockpit of a plane.

“I think you just have to turn the key, put it into drive—and go. Should be like driving a car,” I say, recalling George’s very brief tutorial. “At least, that’s what he told me.”

The twenty-minute deadline looms in the back of my mind.

George is clearly depending on me not to screw this up—or let her crash the damn thing—trusting me with only a ten percent margin. Basically I had to bribe him with cash (five hundred dollars) and six rinkside tickets for his family the next time his brother and sister-in-law come to town with their kids.

Fine.

Whatever .

Austin giggles and follows my instructions, nudging the throttle forward enough to make the Zamboni crawl forward.

“Oh my God, look at me!” she shrieks, glancing at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “I’m doing it! I feel like I’m piloting a spaceship!”

She grips the wheel tighter as the Zamboni glides across the ice at an almost comical crawl.

This thing cannot be going faster than five miles per hour, tops. The machine crawls across the ice, leaving behind a faint trail where the wheels press against the pristine surface.

“Don’t let all this power go to your head,” I warn her, teasing. “We’ve got about thirteen more minutes left.”

“Plenty of time,” she shoots back, confidence growing with every second. “I could drive this thing with my eyes closed.”

“Please don’t.”

Austin bursts into laughter, the sound echoing across the empty rink. She glances over at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. “You can relax—nothing is going to happen. I’m going at a glacial pace.”

“I am so relaxed,” I argue, though my shoulders are tense. “I just have no desire to explain to George why there’s a Zamboni-shaped hole in the penalty box.”

“God you’re cute when you’re stressed out. This is such a damn turn on.” She turns her head to look at me. “Thank you for this—I’m having so much fun.”

“I…you’re welcome.”

“Seriously.” Her sigh is blissful. “I want to suck your dick so bad right now.”

My gulp is audible, my hands tightening on the edge of the seat.

“We both want the same things.”

Her laughter is louder this time, ringing out and echoing off the cold metal walls of the building. It’s an unrestrained laugh, full of mischief, and does absolutely nothing to help me regain my composure.

My dick, her mouth.

Lots of suction…

“Truly. I want what you want.” I cannot stress this enough .

Her grin widens, and she bites her bottom lip, a move that is both innocent and suggestive, I’m seconds away from unzipping my slacks and letting her go at it.

“I can’t believe I said that out loud.” Her focus is back to the ice in front of her, pretty head shaking back and forth, scolding herself. “But for real. This is hot.”

My eyes dart around the area, searching for evidence of any interlopers, specifically, George.

I want to suck your dick so bad right now , I want to suck your dick so bad right now, I want to suck your dick so bad right now…

I can’t take it anymore.

I move from my seat, sliding over to her side. Before she can ask what I’m doing, my hands are on her waist, lifting her effortlessly. She lets out a startled laugh, her hands briefly gripping the steering wheel for balance.

“What are you?—”

She doesn’t finish because I’ve already settled her in my lap, her back pressed against my chest. My hands instinctively find her hips, holding her steady as I press a kiss to the back of her neck, just below her hairline.

A gasp escapes from her lips. “Are you trying to distract me?” she asks in a whisper, her voice wavering as I trail my kisses lower. Austin's head tips back, resting against my shoulder, and for a moment, I forget where we are or that we’re on borrowed time.

My hands slide upward, gliding from her waist to her rib cage, my thumbs grazing the sides of her curves. Her breathing quickens, and she shifts in my lap, hips pressing back against me in a way that makes it nearly impossible to think straight.

Slowly, she begins grinding her ass into my cock, round and round, slowly.

My head lolls back and I moan, gripping her tighter, blood flow leaving my brain and skyrocketing straight to my dick as my teeth graze her skin—not enough to hurt—but enough to make her gasp and arch against me.

“I’m going to crash this thing,” she moans as my big palms slide further up, cupping her tits through the thin fabric of her dress.

They’re soft, full , and fit perfectly in my hands, just like I knew they would.

I squeeze gently, earning another gasp from her as she tilts her head to the side, giving me more access. Wanton now, her skin is warm beneath my lips as I nuzzle into her, my nose inhaling the faint scent of her perfume.

It’s an intoxicating mix of sweet and spice, and I can’t get enough .

My thumbs brush against her nipples through the sheer fabric, and her sharp intake of breath sends a shiver down my spine as my fingers move across her collarbone, dipping below her neckline. Like a heat seeking missile, desperate to touch her bare breasts…

I would fuck her now if we were alone.

She needs to stop grinding on me before we both tear our clothes off and get caught by Geo?—

“Hey!” a loud voice booms. “Knock that shit off!”

The roaring demand snaps us out of our stupor, and Austin jumps out of my lap, her hands flying to the steering wheel as if to make it seem like nothing inappropriate was happening. My arms drop back to my sides, though I can’t wipe the sheepish grin off my face.

George stands at the edge of the rink, hands on his hips, his glare cutting through the distance.

“I said twenty minutes—I didn’t say ‘turn this ride into soft porn!,’” he hollers, his voice echoing off the empty seats around us. “Get down from there, we have cameras everywhere you fucking moron.”

He’s grumbling as he ambles forward, determined.

“Oh shit. He looks pissed,” I muse, cutting the Zamboni’s engine and standing. “Party’s over.”

Though my hard-on isn’t.

One at a time, we climb down off the machine and George averts his eyes as Austin adjusts her dress; tugging the neckline, pulling down the hem so it covers her thighs.

George grumbles under his breath as he trudges toward us, keys jangling against his hip, each step punctuated by an overdramatic huff.

“I should’ve known better,” he gripes, stopping just short of the Zamboni. “Young people can’t keep your hormones in check for even five minutes. The ice is sacred! You wanna paw each other like that, rent a goddamn motel room.”

Honestly I’m flattered he considers me young people .

Austin, cheeks flaming, ducks her head and adjusts her dress again, the movement quick and flustered. She tugs the neckline higher, muttering something under her breath that sounds like, "Never wearing this again."

“Sorry, George,” she says, trying to smooth over his ruffled feathers. Her voice is soft, sweet—and entirely un convincing.

She’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.

“Don’t ‘sorry’ me,” George snaps, pointing a gnarled finger at me. “You. I trusted you with this.”

“Technically,” I say, stepping forward, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. “You trusted me with the Zamboni .”

“You think you’re clever?” He huffs again, his face turning a shade darker. “I don’t care what you call it, just get the hell off my ice before I call security. And next time you’re feeling frisky, take it to a parking lot.”

The parking lot?

Er. He obviously knows jack shit about women if that’s what he considers a romantic gesture.

We walk in silence for a few moments, the sound of her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor. When we reach the hallway leading to the private entrance, she bursts into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she clutches her stomach.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened. I’m dying, give me a minute,” Austin wheezes, barely able to catch a breath.

I lean against the wall to watch, crossing my arms as she does her darndest to compose herself.

It’s not working.

Her laughter echoes through the empty corridor, bouncing off the cinder block walls.

“Think he’ll let us drive the Zamboni again?” I ask, deadpan.

Austin’s laughter somehow manages to kick up a notch, and she starts gasping for air between the peals.

“Stop. Stop making jokes,” she chokes out, waving a hand at me. “I’m going to pee my pants, I swear.”

I wait her out.

When she finally straightens, her face is flushed and her mascara is smudged from the tears rolling down her cheeks but she doesn’t seem to care.

Her smile hasn’t dimmed—not even a little—and she looks up at me, eyes sparkling and full of mischief.

“Oh my God—we got caught fooling around on the Zamboni. If you would have told me that yesterday, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

I chuckle, pushing myself off the wall and putting my arm around her waist as I guide her toward the exit and our waiting car. “For the record, I’m pretty sure we just broke every rule in George’s imaginary handbook.”

“He’s going to be scarred for life.”

I doubt that.

But I am going to have to apologize—probably with an expensive bottle of whiskey that will make him forget this ever happened.

Ha!

We step out into the cool night air, the crisp breeze wrapping around us and making her shiver slightly. Instinctively, I pull her closer, rubbing her arm as I lead her to the car parked at the curb.

We climb in. Buckle up.

Hold hands in the back seat.

“This was so much better than cake,” she murmurs, her voice just above a whisper—wistful and content. Her words remind me of the promise I made back at the restaurant, but the look in her eyes now tells me she doesn’t feel shortchanged.

Not even close.

I look down at our hands, her fingers warm and snug between mine; I can’t help grinning like a damn fool.

Best fucking night ever .

The driver glances at us in the rearview mirror, his expression carefully neutral, though I can tell he’s curious. “Home, sir?”

I look at her again, letting the question hang in the air between us for a moment. Her cheeks flush slightly under my gaze, she doesn’t look away. Instead, she raises an eyebrow.

“My place?” I suggest, my tone casual, but laced with anticipation.

She doesn’t hesitate. “Only if there’s dessert.”

The corners of my mouth lift into a slow grin. “Oh, there’s dessert.”

Austin gives a curt nod.

Bites her lower lip.

And just like that, the dick between my legs is hard again …