Page 143 of The Wildest One

We were speeding around turns, going from backward to forward, the change of direction and airflow hitting my stomach each time, and his mouth never left me.

But with each pass around the rink, his kiss changed.

So did the placement of his hands. The deepness of his breath. The way he wasn’t just holding me, but drawing me in against him.

Signs that told me this moment wasn’t just for kissing.

It was for far more.

“Are there cameras on us?”

I knew it.

My eyes opened, and I loosened my arms the slightest bit so I could lean back and really take in his face. “You’re kidding me, right?”

He chuckled, picking up a little speed since he’d slowed. “I’m far from kidding.”

“You want to do this here? On the ice? While skating?”

“I can’t think of a more perfect spot.” He ground the tip of his hard-on against me and nibbled on my bottom lip. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

“Beck …”

“Are there cameras on us?” he repeated.

I was hesitant to give him that answer. The second I did, I knew what was going to happen.

“I can tell by your silence that there aren’t.” He smiled, and it was devilish and devastatingly sexy. “And you’re thinking of all the ways to tell me this is a horrible idea.”

“Actually, I was going to remind you that isn’t exactly the professionalism my father was talking about.”

“But your father wouldn’t know.” He kissed me, gently this time, and moaned when he separated us. “No one would know. We’re not on a live feed. We’re not being recorded. No one is here. Security is outside.” He came to a fast stop and moved me toward the wall behind the goalpost. “Which means, technically, I can do anything I want to you right now.” By putting me against the glass, he could finally lift his hand from where he was holding my butt and place it on my face.

“Technically, yes.”

“And nothing is stopping me … besides you.” His brows rose even though his forehead was mostly hidden by the back of the hat. “What do you say, baby? Are you going to give me your pussy while we’re on this ice?”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Beck

“What do you say, baby? Are you going to give me your pussy while we’re on this ice?”

As I stared at Jolie, waiting for her to respond, I was positive I’d never wanted anything as badly as I wanted her right now.

Having her here, in my arms, in this rink—it was making my dick throb in a way I couldn’t control.

She was making me ache.

Pulse.

My thoughts were consumed with only one thing: pounding her cunt until we were both screaming.

All premeditated, of course. I had known she would be working late, and we’d be the only ones here at this hour. So, the entire drive to the arena, I had been teased with the idea of what I could do to her on this ice. Each red light goading me, fucking jerking my cock, my mind a wild mix of what I wanted and what she would give me.

With my arm positioned under her ass, my other hand on her face, she began to wiggle. At first, I thought she was trying to getme to put her down. Then I realized she was lifting her dress, moving it in a way to invite me in.

My girl was giving me everything I wanted.