by Lily Harlem
I nodded the best I could. It was absolutely what I wanted and I couldn’t wait to experience the sensation of being stuffed full in both holes.
But wait I did. Vadmir was in no hurry to fuck my cunt and he continued to ride in and out of my mouth. He spoke in Russian several times, low, grunting words that I couldn’t decipher even though I knew more of his language each day.
Finally, he withdrew and settled above me. I searched for his mouth and he captured mine with his. As our tongues tangled I wondered if he enjoyed the flavor of himself that I passed to him.
“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he said, breaking the kiss and easing his cock into me. “So hard you will be heard screaming in America.”
“Yes, yes…” God it was a tight fit. He’d only just started to penetrate me and the hot flesh of his cock was stretching my pussy. My full ass had diminished the available space in my pussy.
“I love no condoms,” he muttered. “I love you all hot and wet on my skin.”
“Yes,” I managed. “Hot and wet.”
He prodded higher but didn’t get far. “Rest your muscles, let me inside you.”
“I’m trying, I’m so… so turned on. I want to come.”
“And you will soon, let me fill you up first.” Again he curled his hips under. This time he had more success and eased into my wet channel.
I groaned. It was a loud chesty sound that I let erupt from my throat.
He matched it with a groan of his own and sank to full depth.
“Vadmir, oh God, yes!” I shouted, yanking my arms and locking my legs around the backs of his thighs. “Fuck, that’s so much.”
And it was. I was so full of him. The divine fullness in my ass and his thick cock in my pussy had made me forget where I ended and he began. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”
I didn’t need to shout instructions because he was already doing just that. He was pumping in and out of me. Each shunt dragging his pubis over my clit and thrusting me up the bed.
Sweat popped on my body and my shoulders hurt from the strain of fighting my bondage. I got lost in the Technicolor flashing behind the blindfold.
My orgasm was there and I screamed with the relief of finally coming.
Still Vadmir kept on fucking me. His energy increased as if spurred on by my climax.
My breasts, still heavy with the clamps, jiggled and swayed and my pussy spasmed and clenched his cock. My breaths were hard to catch and my pulse was thumping to a crazy tempo in my ears.
“Again,” he said, biting at my neck and then my collarbone. “Again.”
He bashed against my clit and before I knew it his thudding, thrusting rhythm had me orgasming again. I wailed his name and clenched my fists. On and on it went like waves washing over me, each one a swarm of pleasure. I bucked and squirmed wanting more and taking it.
“Ah, that’s it, that’s it, now me…” he said. With one forceful surge he buried deep and released his cum.
I was hot and trembling and my mind a haze of ecstasy. I tightened my hold on him with my legs and rejoiced in his semen discharging into my body.
He gave three more powerful lunges, gasping my name each time, and then stopped.
For a few minutes we said nothing. We were just frozen in our joined position catching our breaths and enjoying the final pulses of pleasure that trembled over our flesh.
“That was amazing,” he said, finally pulling out. “And good that no one could hear you.”
I giggled. “What I that loud?”
“Yes.” He set a hot kiss over my lips and then tugged off the blindfold.
I blinked in the sudden bright light. I’d been lost in my own dark world that consisted only of sensations.
“Do you like these?” he asked, cupping my breast just beneath the clamps.
I looked down. “Oh, very pretty.” As he’d said they were gold with rubies set in them. “Are they staying on?”
“No, they’ll get too hot in the sun, but another time you can wear them for the whole day.”
I shifted my arms. “Can you undo me?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I looked up at his face. His cheeks were red and his lashes had lightened a little in the sunshine but his eyes were still flashing with wicked ideas.
“Because I haven’t finished with you yet.”
He hadn’t? Oh Jesus, I wasn’t sure how much I could take. I’d just had the most wonderful multiple orgasm at the hands of an expert tormentor.
“What else is there?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.
“When these come off it’s going to be intense,” he said, touching the right nipple clamp. “I want you to enjoy that.”
He slid his other hand between my legs and gently rubbed over my super-sensitive clit.
I moaned and thought about shifting away but then stayed. I liked his touch too much.
“Come again,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“You can, I want you to.” He kissed over the clamp. “And I’m not untying you until you do.”
“Oh God.”
“He won’t save you.”
My clit was vibrating under his touch, the first spark of pressure building.
“Like this,” he said, suddenly releasing the right clamp.
“Oh fuck,” I shouted. A mass of swirling, boiling heat shot from my nipple to my clit. It was as if all the blood stored there was pure potent pleasure.
“Come,” he said, upping the speed of his fingers.
I did. It was there. It grabbed me and thrust my body up and then down the bed. The butt plug shifted, increasing the tension in my pelvis and giving my innards something solid to spasm against.
He released the other clamp and the sensation doubled.
I screamed again, wailed and called his name.
His mouth hit down on mine in a passionate kiss. He captured my cries of pleasure and continued to eke them from me.
My clit was bubbling with release. I’d never felt anything like it. My body was singing to his tune, doing exactly what he wanted it to do, it was out of my control. He was in me, on me and shooting ecstasy through me.
“Ah, ah, Vadmir,” I said, a sob bubbling up from my chest. “It’s so much. Too much. No more.”
He lifted up and with one quick tug my arms were free and my clit no longer being stimulated.
A single tear rolled down my cheek.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He dragged me close and curled his arms and legs around me.
“Shh…” I pressed my index finger to his lips. “Don’t say sorry.”
“But you have a tear.” He caught it on his thumb. “Why are you crying? Did it hurt in a bad way?”
“No. No it was all good. I’m just…”
“What?” His brow creased. “What is it? Tell me.”
“I’m just so happy that I can be like this with you.”
“Like what?” A small smile crept onto his lips.
“That we can trust each other so much.”
“I love that, too. And damn, you are the sexiest, most responsive, giving woman on the planet and I can’t wait to make you my wife.”
“It won’t be long.”
“No, and in the meantime…”
“What?”
“We need to carry on rehearsing the wedding night,” he said.
“I like the sound of that.”
He slid his hand down my back and rested it over the crack of my ass cheeks. “Which might include, as you suggested, you tying me to the bed and doing whatever you want.”
I grinned and clenched around the plug. My pelvis shuddered and another tremor of bliss shivered its way over my body. The idea thrilled me as much as what we’d just done.
“I think this is definitely something we’ll take turns at.” I stroked my finger down his cheek and rested it over his sternum. “And I can’t wait to have your sexy body to play with, I think you’re going to like it.”
He laughed. “I think you’re going to be a tease.”
“What like you were?”
“I hardly teased you at all.” He looked indignant.
“Oh, you really did.”
He suddenly rolled me over so that I was on top of him. “I love you,” he said, capturing my cheeks in his hands.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” I whispered onto his lips.
He pushed my hair over my ears and grinned. “You learnt it in Russian.”
“Of course. Our bodies speak the same language, it’s about time our tongues did, too.”
He smiled and kissed me again. It seemed our tongues spoke the same language already, and as I let myself get lost in him I marveled at how lucky I’d been to catch myself a hot Russian boy who was pretty damn nifty with a hockey stick and who also could keep up with me in the bedroom.
THE END
Rookie Rules
Hot Ice Short Story
By Lily Harlem
Chapter One
“It’s perfect, stunning, but...hang on, there’s a crease.” I fluffed my best friend Samantha’s lacy white veil. I was more nervous than her. We’d been in a whirlwind of excitement planning this day for two months and now, suddenly, it was here.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Harmony,” Samantha said, brushing her hand over the copious amounts of tulle that bushed out Cinderella-style from just above her hips.
I pulled in a deep breath, stopped fussing and stepped back to admire her. Samantha was always beautiful, even when she’d just rolled out of bed, but today she was a vision of loveliness. Her masses of soft blonde hair were piled high and topped with a small silver tiara from Tiffany & Co. Her vintage veil had belonged to her husband-to- be’s Russian grandmother and hung over her face and down her back. Her dress was made to measure and designed by Carolina Herrera. She held a bunch of pale pink roses, each one with a Swarovski crystal in the center. The bouquet sparkled as she moved, as though stars from the night sky had fallen into it.
“You look beautiful, darling,” her father said. “In fact, so beautiful I’m not convinced about all this giving-you- away business.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You know I’ll always be your little girl.”
He smiled and I could see love pouring from his eyes.
“The music is playing,” Darya, my fellow bridesmaid said, her accent strong. “My brother will be anxious, Samantha, and he is not a patient man.”
Samantha laughed. “Don’t I know it. Oh, hang on, wait a minute. Daddy, do you have that package I gave you earlier?”
He tapped his breast pocket. “Yes.” He withdrew two small pink velvet envelopes.
“Here,” Samantha said, passing one to me and one to Darya. “A little something from me to the two best bridesmaids in the world. I couldn’t have organized this wedding without the help of my best friend and my soon to be sister-in-law. You really are amazing and I love you both very much.”
My eyes misted and I blinked rapidly, trying not to disturb my mascara. “You didn’t need to—”
“Samantha—” Darya said.
“Quick, open them or they’ll be playing the Bridal March twice,” Samantha interrupted.
Hurriedly Darya and I unwrapped our presents. I held up a hair-thin silver necklace with a pale pink gemstone hanging from the center.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I said.
Darya said something in Russian that I didn’t understand.
“Put them on,” Samantha said. “They’ll match your dresses.”
We fiddled quickly then I touched the stone that sat just below the dip of my throat. She was right, they did go wonderfully with our short, fitted, baby-pink dresses.
“Are we all quite ready?” Samantha’s father said, looking at his watch and giving a mock frown. “I don’t want to upset a church full of brutish hockey players.”
“I agree,” Samantha said, pulling in a deep breath and tilting her chin. “Let’s do this. I’m going to get married, right now.” She linked arms with her father, set down her shoulders and stepped forward.
Darya and I exchanged a nervous smile and followed Samantha and her father. I took a deep breath. My stomach was rolling and my heart beating wildly. Normally it was the bride who was nervous, but I was walking on weak knees and my palms were damp as I held my small bunch of pink roses.
It wasn’t because I was worried the wedding wouldn’t go to plan. Or that Samantha and hot-shot defenseman for the Orlando Vipers, Vadmir Arefyev, wouldn’t be eternally happy together. They would be, they were a perfect match. No, it was because he would be there, standing at the head of the altar right next to the groom. He’d be all big and gorgeous in an Armani suit that Darya and I had collected the week before. I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with seeing him after all this time. Awkward just wasn’t a big enough word. Soul-achingly cringeworthy went somewhere near it.
It had been several months since I’d captured the eye of Jackson Price, rookie goaltender for the Vipers. He’d given me an autograph, a seductive smile and then made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’d felt bad ditching Samantha, for a nanosecond, and then I’d had one of the best nights of my life.
Jackson had taken me back to his place and we’d got straight down to business. We both knew what we wanted and boy, did we take it. He’d been like a stallion all night, endless stamina and a body that was made for being licked all over. And lick I had, and sucked and kissed and anything else he’d let me do which, as it turned out, was whatever I wanted.
My cheeks heated at the memory as the piped organ music pulled me into the moment. Faces were turning our way accompanied by gasps and ohs of delight. Everyone was as wowed as me by Samantha’s bridal beauty.
The aisle was long and a flutter of petals, newly settling from behind Samantha’s voluminous dress, floated around my high heels as I moved. I stared at the back of the bride’s head, studying the intricate lace on her veil. Then I looked at the petals, at my bouquet. I looked everywhere except the pew at the end of the aisle. The groom and his best man were not my concern. I was only interested in Samantha; she was my responsibility.
Eventually the aisle ran out and Samantha turned to Darya and handed over her flowers.
Still I stared straight ahead. A fat church candle, the flame shivering in a draft, held my attention.
“Harmony,” Samantha said, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“Yes,” I said, a smile automatically forming on my lips.
Must not look to the right.
He was there. I could see his massive outline and sense his overwhelming presence. I stepped forward and carefully, still holding my flowers, lifted Samantha’s veil over her head. Cautiously, as though it was the most important job in the world, I then smoothed it flat and neat so that it hung just tickling her tanned shoulders. My hands were trembling but I hoped anyone who noticed would put it down to the nerves of my vital veil job and not Jackson’s proximity.
I started to turn away, but like a magnet my gaze was drawn to him.
He was staring straight at me. Eyes darker than sin and a mouth that was made for kissing...and more.
My stomach rolled and my heart sped up. For a split second it was like we were the only people in the church. Everyone else faded into the background.
Jackson Price was as gorgeous and dangerous as I remembered him to be. His black hair was freshly cut, and his mouth held a cocky half-grin. How could he look so chilled, so unruffled when I felt as though my skin was on fire and my nerves were jangling?
He dropped his gaze down my body and one side of his mouth curled a little more.
Oh fuck!
Was he remembering me naked? Naked and on my hands and knees with him driving into me, fucking me hard and fast? Or was he thinking about how he’d wrapped my legs around his shoulders and feasted on my pussy until I’d cried out with the exhaustion of multiple orgasms.
“We are gathered here today...”
The
Reverend’s voice brought me back to the present. Quickly I stepped away from Samantha and Vadmir and took my place next to Darya in the pews.
I settled my gaze on Vadmir, refusing to let Jackson think he was the only man I wanted to look at, even though it was true.
Vadmir was gazing down at his bride. Adoration was written all over his features. On the ice he had a grim expression—his eyes were like chips from a glacier and the hard angles of his jaw and cheeks only added to the dangerous, bad-boy image he projected. But, I’d noticed, as soon as Samantha walked into a room that all changed. He was like a big fierce Rottweiler whose beloved owner had returned home and now all he wanted was his belly tickled. Suddenly he didn’t look so dangerous anymore, though I dreaded to think what he’d do to anyone who upset his woman.
Love from a man like that was something I longed for. But, working on the airlines as an international stewardess had limited my relationships and I was a one-night stand kind of girl. Though with Jackson I would have happily changed that rule to a two or three-night stand. He was something else. A genius goaltender, looks that models would hurl themselves off the catwalk for, and sexual techniques that put a smile on my face whenever I remembered them.
Damn, I was looking at him again. But that was okay because he was facing forward and offering the rings for blessing. I dropped my gaze to his butt. Beneath the suit jacket, which skimmed the bottom curve of his ass cheeks, I knew the view would be very nice indeed. Remove the pants and it would be damn near perfect. He had such a hot ass. Neat, tight buttocks just a fraction paler than the rest of his sun-tanned skin and a lovely dip in the small of his back that had been just right for stroking my tongue along. His skin was soft, slightly salty and he’d trembled as I’d teased him with my mouth.
I suppressed a shiver of desire. The memories of that night did that to me. Caught me unaware at times and released a shot of lust into my bloodstream. I remembered biting his right ass cheek. He’d actually had a crescent of tiny bruises the next morning. We’d laughed about it then he’d thrown me over his knee, slapped my butt and evened up the score with a mark on my ass, too. My buttocks tingled now and I clenched my cheeks