Page 96 of Fault Lines
“Hang on,” I said at one point, parking him back by the guard rail. “Be right back.”
I skated off, ducked over to the entrance, and returned with a penguin skating support—a goofy-looking thing with a single eye. Nate just stared at it.
“Uh… what is that?”
I tried not to laugh as I handed it over. “Sorry. It’s all they had left.”
He pointed at it, deadpan. “It’s a cyclops.”
“It’ll get you across the ice.”
He actually looked a little insulted, but grabbed the handles anyway, hunched over the cartoon bird, and started inching along behind me.
I kept gliding backward, cheering him on as he picked up speed, his confidence growing in fits and starts. He almost wiped out a couple more times, but there was no stopping him now.
The rink was perfect, not too crowded: a teenage couple drifting by, a knot of kids tossing themselves at each other while their parents watched from the benches. I left Nate to his conquest of the cyclops penguin and took my moment to really skate, letting “Somebody That I Used to Know” fill my ears. I spun, circled, throwing in leaps and little tricks as memory unlocked them.
It was a while before Nate finally caught up, panting and pleading for a break. I grinned and helped him back to the entrance.
We exchanged skates for shoes and headed to the concession stand. Pizza and sodas in hand, we found a table. He sat down gingerly, wincing.
“You okay?” I asked, sinking into my chair.
He winced again, rubbing his lower back. “I’m going to be sore in places I didn’t know I even had.”
He downed half his soda at once. I laughed quietly, peeling off my gloves.
“Thank you for this,” I said. “It was really fun. I didn’t realize I missed it.”
He leaned in, his voice warm. “I’m glad I thought of it. You’re already a pro.”
That made me shake my head. “Wouldn’t say pro.” The pizza surprised me—it was better than any rink pizza should be. I let out a little moan, laughing. “This is… actually amazing.”
The look he gave me then was almost dangerous, his eyes hooded. “Have you had enough skating?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Why?”
He reached across the table, voice dropping. “Because I want to make sure there’s enough time for me to savor you tonight.”
That sent a cold shiver through my whole body. I left the pizza behind, snatching at his arm. “Let’s go, then.”
He didn’t argue. The drive back to his apartment passed in a kind of quiet anticipation—I could feel electricity building with every minute.
The second we stepped inside, he was on me: kissing hard, stripping my jacket and shirt away. I matched his urgency—it felt good, being wanted like this, being with someone who wanted only me.
I got his belt undone, pants down, his cock springing free. I went to my knees, tasting him, drawing out the drop of salt already forming.
“God, Livi.” He sounded almost wrecked.
I took him in deep, not teasing, wanting to give as much as I could. His hand drove hard into my hair as he rocked into my mouth. It was rough, but it turned me on—the way he claimed every inch of me, the openness of his desire.
I was no stranger to this, not with Cam, but with Nate it was different. He was thicker than Cam, not as long, which made my jaw ache, but I wanted it—I liked the weight of him, the velvet feel, the way his intent focused on me and only me. I could feel myself soaking through my panties at the thought of it.
He took over, pumping into my mouth, each thrust hard and claiming. The sound of him, the grip on my hair—it was all more than I expected from Nate. He’d always seemed gentle, but there was nothing gentle about the way he owned my mouth.
He pulled out abruptly, caught me before I fell, and spun me around, peeling off my jeans, panties, bra. My back hit the wall and suddenly he was on his knees, one of my legs on his shoulder, tongue finding my clit quick as lightning.
I jolted at that first touch, but craved more instantly, grinding against him, fists in his hair. He gave me everything, and the second he sucked hard, I moaned loud enough to probably startle the neighbors—not that I cared. Not for a second.
