Page 74 of Ice
I could still hear it; that annoying damn theme tune on that stupid, stupid fucking kids show. The one with… the one with a little blonde kid as the star. Fuck. Me.
“I just figured out why I hate Has-Been.”
Lissa
Isatuptostareat him, and he looked stunned. He was frowning deeply, and no amount of smoothing my fingersover his brow could change that.
“Tell me.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled at it a little. He did that a lot, I noticed. Was it a stress response? Or was he experiencing that loss of self and familiarity with himself that some recovering addicts did?
“Fucking hell. The DVD my dad used to put on for me to watch. The show that I was forced to sit and fucking listen to whenever he was beating on my mum. I can’t believe it.”
“What was it?”
He sat up further, his eyes widening with the revelation.
“The one he’s best known for. The one where he’s the school kid with super powers or some shit. Fucking hell. That voice. That whiny little asshole voice.”
I moved over to straddle his lap, cupping his face. My heart was beating faster, practically bursting with pride and excitement, because this was a really big deal.
“Ice, you know what just happened?”
He grinned, dragging me closer, his arms tight around my back.
“You’re gonna let me suck your clit?”
Everything clenched at his words.God yes.
“Don’t make light of it, Ice. This is a breakthrough, and this is huge. This is the reason you two don’t get on. It’s not his fault, but it’s not yours either, you get that, right? You can both move past this now.”
He groaned, dragging me tighter against him.
“Can I move past it and into your pussy now? I think I deserve it.”
I wriggled in his lap, stroking his face.
“Are you sure you’re well enough? You’re still a bit sweaty.”
He laughed, moving and lifting me at the same time.
“Then we’ll fuck in the shower. Come on.”
He tried, he really did, but his body had too much to cope with, with the withdrawal symptoms, and maybe the pressure he was unconsciously putting on himself.
“Fuck!” He turned and slammed his hand against the wall.
“Ice, it’s fine.”
He shot me a glare over his shoulder, as he headed for the towels.
“Like fuck it is. I call myself a man and I can’t even fucking get it up long enough to… Jesus, maybe I should be grateful I didn’t blow early again this time.”
He slammed the door after him, while I hurried to get a towel, and follow him. I was so afraid he’d rush off again, looking for something to numb the pain and the frustration, and the humiliation he felt, even though he knew I wasn’t judging him for it, that I knew exactly why he was struggling.
“Ice?” He was sitting on his bed, naked, his head hanging forward, and he looked defeated. Just in his pose, I could see defeat, like he was on the verge of giving up. I wouldn’t let him give up on us, and definitely wouldn’t let him give up on himself.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Even his voice sounded lost and defeated, and it broke my heart. I climbed onto the bed, losing my towel in the process, and wrapped my arms around him from behind.
