Lost Her On The Ice, Now He Was Begging novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Skates On
On the second morning, in the skate room, Axel is on his knees begging her to let him put his mouth on her.
The skate room behind sheet one was a concrete box with a rubber floor and one long bench.
It was ten past six on the second morning.
The session was over, and I had not told him to leave.
Axel stood by his locker with his jersey off and his skates still on, and the rubber mat made him look even bigger.
Sweat ran down his chest and into the black hair that disappeared under the waist of his pants.
I sat on the bench with my white skates laced to the knee and my ankles crossed.
I had not planned this.
That was a lie, and I knew it was a lie.
I had thought about this for twenty hours.
"You went wide on the last three turns," I said.
"I know."
"Because you were looking at me."
"I'm always looking at you," he said.
The room was very quiet.
Somewhere in the walls a compressor hummed.
"Come here," I said.
He crossed the mat, his blades clicking softly on the rubber.
He stopped in front of me.
"Closer."
His knees touched mine.
I looked up at him.
Three years, and nothing about his face had changed except for a hunger that hadn't been there before. The sight of it pulled at me.
"On your knees," I said.
He dropped.
He did it without a word, without a pause, both knees hitting the rubber hard enough that I felt it in the bench.
His hands came up and hovered on either side of my thighs, not touching.
His breath was ragged.
"Kaisa," he said. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Let me put my mouth on you."
Something hot and fast went through my stomach.
I had been wet since the first lap.
I had been wet in my car, and in the shower, and every hour of the night before.
I hated that he was going to know it.
"You're begging," I said.
"Yes."
"Say it again."
"I'm begging you." His voice shook. "I've thought about it for three years. I thought about it every night. Let me taste you. Please."
I set my hands flat on the bench on either side of me.
"Take my pants off."
His fingers went to the waistband of my black training leggings.
They were big hands, scarred across the knuckles, and they trembled.
He pulled the leggings down over my hips.
I lifted for him, and he worked them down my thighs.
He left them hooked around my boots, because the blades were in the way.
I was wearing a plain black thong.
He looked at it.
"Oh, God," he said.
"Take that off too."
He hooked two fingers in the strip of cotton and dragged it down.
It was soaked.
He saw that.
A sound came out of his chest, low and torn, and he pressed his forehead against my knee.
"Kaisa."
"I said take it off, not talk."
"You're so wet."
"Because I was thinking about your mouth, you idiot," I said. "Now use it."
He pushed my thighs apart with both hands.
The cold air hit me, and then his breath, and then his beard.
The first touch of his tongue was slow and flat, all the way up, and my head went back against the cinder block.
I made a sound.
I'd planned not to.
He growled against me, deep in his throat, and licked me again, just as slowly.
"Is that where you like it?" he said, against my skin.
"You know where I like it."
"I forgot," he said. "Tell me."
"Higher."
His tongue moved.
His mouth closed around my clit and he sucked, gently first, then harder, and I grabbed the back of his bare head.
The skin was hot and smooth under my fingers.
I held on.
"Like that," I said. "Just like that."
He moaned into me.
The vibration went all the way up my spine.
My heels dug into the backs of his shoulders, the blades of my skates pressing into his muscle, and he didn't flinch.
He pulled me closer by the hips, and he ate me.
Every flick of his tongue was precise, and he remembered more than he had said.
He remembered the pressure I liked, the way I came apart if he circled and then stopped.
He circled.
He stopped.
I swore at him, and he smiled against my thigh.
"Don't you dare smile," I said.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not."
"I'm not," he said, and went back to work.
He slid two thick fingers inside me, all the way, curling them forward, and my hips came off the bench.
"Axel."
"There she is," he said. "There's my girl."
I should have hit him for that.
I tightened around his fingers instead.
He pumped them slowly, steadily, with his mouth sealed on my clit.
The sound of it was filthy in the little concrete room, wet and rhythmic and shameless.
I could feel the pressure gathering low and hot.
I tugged his head back by the ears.
His eyes were glazed.
His beard was shining.
"Don't stop," I told him.
"I won't."
"If you stop, I'll make you wait another three years."
"I won't stop, I swear to God." He sounded wrecked. "Come on my mouth. Please. I need it."
I let go of his ears and shoved his face back between my legs.
He went in hungry.
The tension wound tighter and tighter, until my thighs shook around his head.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying his name.
I lost.
"Axel," I gasped. "Axel, Axel, fuck."
It broke over me in one long wave.
I clenched around his fingers and rode his mouth, and my whole body arched.
He held me down with a forearm across my hips.
He kept licking me through it, slow and deep, until I was shaking and pushing at his shoulder.
I should have pushed him off.
Instead I pulled his head back down by the ears.
"Again," I said.
He didn't even breathe.
He went back to my clit with his tongue flat and patient, and the first touch was almost too much.
I hissed and held him there.
He gentled it, and then he built it.
He twisted his fingers inside me, and my vision went white at the edges.
"Fuck, you remember everything," I said.
"I remember all of it."
"Don't talk."
"You said you wanted to hear it," he said against me. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to stay right there."
"I'm not going anywhere."
My second orgasm didn't build.
It hit me, fast and bright and shaking.
I folded forward over his head with my forehead against his bare scalp and his name stuck in my throat.
He held on through every pulse, groaning.
When it finally let go, I was boneless.
He lifted his face.
His chin was wet and he was breathing.
His eyes were so dark they were nearly black.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at me, and I had never seen anyone look so grateful.
I looked down his body.
The front of his pants was tented, straining against the zipper, and there was a dark patch where he was leaking through the fabric.
He hadn't touched himself once.
"Kaisa," he said, hoarse. "I'm so hard it hurts."
"I can see that."
"Let me. Please. Let me come. I'll do anything."
I looked at him for a long time.
Then I pulled my thong up from where it hung on my skate, tugged my leggings back up my thighs, and stood, a little unsteady.
His face fell.
I ran my thumb across his bottom lip, and tasted myself on it, and watched his pupils blow wide.
"No," I said.
"Kaisa."
"You don't get to come because I did," I said. "You get what I give you, when I give it. That's the deal."
"I'll take anything."
"Good." I picked up my bag. "Stay on your knees until you can stand."
He stayed there, head bowed, breathing through it.
At the door I stopped.
"Five o'clock tomorrow," I said. "Don't touch yourself. I'll know."
"How will you know?"
"I always did."
I walked out into the hall on legs that didn't feel like mine.
I got as far as the parking lot.
I put both hands against the cold side of my car and laughed once, short and awful, with my knees shaking.
My thighs were still wet.
My mouth was still smiling.
I was in so much trouble.
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