EMMA
"You like that, Emma?" he asks, sliding his frozen tongue along my lips. Holy shit, do I like it. The heat of his body, the ice-cold of his tongue. The mix of sensations is like nothing I've ever felt before. My skin has been buzzing since last night in the lake, and now I'm finally connecting with Thatcher, touching him, feeling him touch me. It's sexy enough to be sitting on Thatcher's lap with his hands on my ass, but when he kisses me? I'm gone.
"Thatcher," I breathe, "I can't…work…" Alarm bells are ringing in my head. The ethics of what we're doing are already pretty terrible without me giving into some wave of lust. But then, I think about how long it's been since I've been with a man, and none of them ever touched me like this. None of them ever left me shaking with need.
I can't seem to find any words, and I just start moving my hips along his rock-hard dick. Last night in the lake, I thought he was maybe he got hard because he was embarrassed to have to rescue me or something, but now, his grey eyes are intense as he looks at me and thrusts his tongue into the far reaches of my mouth. He explores my mouth and his lips suck and nibble at mine. He's shirtless from his run, and I finally get to feel every firm inch of him. My nipples, achingly hard, brush against his through the material of my shirt. This is far and away the sexiest kiss of my life.
"I fucking burn for you, Chezz," Thatcher breathes, and I want to tell him I'm scorching, too. That I've been hot for him since he first pressed against me in that hallway, but I'm still reeling from the kiss, so I just sit there, panting. "Are you hot, too, Emma?" he asks, and then he looks at me, a devilish grin spreading across his sweaty face. He reaches onto the night stand and plucks an ice cube from his water glass. I gasp, nervous about what he's planning. His free hand slips down the back of my panties, his long fingers rubbing the sensitive skin of my backside. He lifts the ice cube slowly with his other hand, and I start panting when he presses it to my collarbone.
Slowly, deliberately, he drags the ice along my chest, up my throat, and along my jaw. He follows behind with his mouth, now searing hot, leaving a trail of opposite sensations that have my entire core on fire. I'm circling my hips, desperate for stimulation on my clit. He's torturing me with how good this feels. Thatcher puts the ice cube between his teeth, freeing his hand, and his cold, cold fingers slip down the front of my panties.
My shivers give way to frantic moans when I feel his icy fingers fluttering on my clit. "Jesus, Emma, you're soaked," he says, crunching the ice between his teeth before kissing me again. His tone is so casual, but there is urgency in his touch. His fingers start to circle my nub inside my panties and I drop my head back, exposing my throat to him. Thatcher takes the opportunity to suck on the taut skin. "This feels so good, Thatcher," I moan. I am out of my mind, drunk on the sensations.
"Do you like this?" he asks me, sliding a cold finger inside me.
"Fuck, yes, Thatcher. Please."
"Please what?" he whispers in my ear, flicking his cold tongue along the shell. He never stops moving his hand on my center, teasing apart my wet folds. I can't even form thoughts right now and I struggle to answer him, but abruptly, he stops his movements. "Tell me, Chezz. What do you want?"
My mouth hangs open. I pant, my chest rising and falling. I reach behind me to strip off the shirt, baring myself to Thatcher, and I gasp, "Please make me come, Thatcher."
He laughs again and cups my breasts, the sensitive, soft globes filling his rough hands. His thumbs flick my nipples and I moan again as he says, "I thought you'd never ask."
I start sliding my palms up and down his chest, over the stag tattoo that matches the ones his brothers both have. I love the feel of his muscles shifting beneath my hands and I hunch down to lick one of his tiny nipples, enjoying the rumble in his chest when my tongue connects. I lick a salty path all the way up to his chin. And then I'm lost when I feel Thatcher's mouth close over one nipple, sucking deeply, as he circles the other with another ice cube from his glass.
I drop my head back and groan in pleasure, no longer able to think when he switches sides, sucking deep pulls on the frozen nipple. He eases the melting ice back into his mouth and begins to slide his lips up and down my stomach, tilting me back, his hands under my shoulders supporting my weight, until his mouth has the access it needs to my belly.
He shifts his weight abruptly. Pulling me back against his chest, Thatcher kisses me again. I suck his tongue hungrily into my mouth, kiss his cheeks, frenzied in my need to connect with him physically.
His busy hands move to the waistband of my sheer panties, giving them a tug. "Can I see inside, Chezz?" I nod, and then yelp when he tugs them with both hands. I hear a rip as Thatcher yanks the ruined material off my body. "Holy fuck, Emma. Fuck, that's so hot," he says, running his fingers through the soft curls. "You're red everywhere."
My arms jerk and my back arches when he finds my slit. I might come if he touches me just once more. I'm trembling now as he takes his time exploring. "So wet, Emma," he breathes, sliding a fingertip just where I need the friction. Suddenly, Thatcher tips me backwards so I'm lying sprawled on the bed between his legs, looking up into his grey eyes. He grins his lopsided, devilish smile and reaches for the last ice cube. I gasp. He purrs, "You look flushed, Chezz. I want to cool you off." I'm frightened for a moment. Surely the ice on my most sensitive skin will burn? But then I feel the sting of contact paired with his scalding touch and I know I'm ruined for all other men. Forever.
"Oooh, ooh, shit, Thatcher. Yes. Oh my god," I start rambling and mumbling, fisting the sheets into my hands when he starts the agonizing, slow tease, sliding the ice cube up one thigh, then the other. He never takes a hand from my seam, and his fingers are cool from passing the ice between his hands. I feel my hips jerking involuntarily, a building sensation throbbing throughout my body.
Thatcher slides me back a bit further on the bed and bends forward. "Oh, god," I moan when he slides the ice inside me. There's just a small chip remaining, and the heat of my core melts it in seconds, but not before I come, hard, screaming his name and burying my fingers in his long hair.
I think he will stop when the sensation subsides, but he doesn't. He sticks out his tongue and licks me, over and over again while his long fingers massage my ass. His thumbs reach around my legs to stroke the skin of my upper thighs and his tongue thrusts inside me. "I can't, Thatcher," I yell, pulling his hair. My thighs slam shut against his ears when he starts to chuckle.
He sucks my clit between his teeth, lets go of my ass, and spreads my pussy open with his fingers. He dives back into me, fucking me with his tongue. Before the first orgasm wanes, I come again, so hard that I can't tell where my body stops and his begins, and I lose track of the world. All that exists is this wave of pleasure that crashes again and again. Slowly, it subsides and I become aware that Thatcher has moved his head and hands away from my body.
"Emma," I hear him say. I open my eyes to see him kneeling above me. He reaches into his waistband, stroking his cock inside his shorts, and stares at me. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."