Page 56 of Ice Princesses
Her head tips back, and I take that opportunity to lick slowly down her neck, stopping at the soft spot right at her shoulder. Cecilia breathes deeply, and her hand moves to the comforter, grabbing on to it tightly. She’s whispering something that I can’t quite understand—maybe Spanish, maybe it’s just broken sounds—but it pulls something sharper out of me.
She looks absolutely stunning. Completelyundone on my bed, blonde hair fanning out around her head. Unpolished and wrecked.
My hand slides along her side, feeling the way she reacts to every small shift, every inch of contact. Her body answers before she can think it through: her nipples get hard, her skin erupts in tiny little goosebumps, and her breath catches again. It makes me want to keep going, slower now, just to see how far I can take it.
“Ceci,” I murmur, more to feel her name in my mouth than anything else.
Her response is immediate; a soft, breathless sound that feels like it goes straight through me.
I kiss the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw. Her fingers go to my hair, and I feel a light tug. “Do you want to stop?” I whisper against her skin.
“Fuck, no, Princess,” she says, then lowers her hand and drags it over my shoulder, all down my arm. Her fingers link with mine, and she pulls me to her, our breasts touching. Her skin is so soft and so warm, and I just want to?—
“Move,” she says. I smile against her, and she lets out a small chuckle that I feel more than hear. “Please.”
There’s something about the way she says it—low, impatient, like she’s barely holding on—that makes my chest tighten.
I shift over slowly, dragging my fingertips over her nipple and pinching, then continue down her torso towards her pussy. She sputters something and her core tightens in anticipation.
Her hands find my back immediately, pulling me closer. I breathe her in: the indistinguishable soap from the rink,warm skin, and something just beneath it that feels unmistakably her.
I shift over her, slower now, letting my weight settle to the side, and move my leg in between hers.
Cecilia’s hips shift tentatively, and I let her, her pussy dragging against my thigh—warmer than I expect, already soaking, and the realization hits me all at once, sharp and disorienting.
It pulls a gasp out of me before I can stop it.
I press in instinctively, just a fraction, testing, teasing, and Cecilia’s reaction is immediate. Her breath catches and her body tightens under mine, almost like she hadn’t expected this.
My hand drifts down her side again, slower this time, tracing the same path just to feel how differently she reacts to my touch now. Everything about her is more responsive, less guarded, like she’s already past the point of holding back.
Her breath stutters.
“Isa,” she murmurs, soft.
I glance up, watching her face instead of my hand. “Still okay?”
She nods immediately, fingers tightening in my hair. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. But I don’t rush, either.
I let my hand slide lower by a fraction at a time, not giving her what she’s asking for right away, but enough to feel the way her body starts anticipating my touch—hips shifting and searching for any friction, breath catching, hergrip tightening like she’s trying to pull me into something I’m deliberately holding just out of reach.
“So needy,” I say against her stomach, and her skin erupts in tiny little goosebumps all around my mouth.
Her eyes snap open at that, sharp despite everything else. “You’re torturing me.”
“Maybe”—I place small kisses all over her—“this is what you get for being mean to me.”
Cecilia exhales, something like a laugh breaking through, but it dissolves quickly when I finally touch her clit with the tip of my fingers. Her reaction is immediate: head tipping back, body arching into mine like she’s been waiting for it.
“Fuck,” she breathes.
The sound of it goes straight through me and the heat of her pussy hits me instantly. She’s warm and wet and ready, and suddenly, I feel more ravenous than ever. I press closer without thinking, my forehead dropping to her chest as I try to hold on to some version of control.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” My fingers are moving on her clit in slow and steady circles, and she chases them, setting a rhythm that I follow instinctively. I twist my hand, changing the angle, and she gasps, her body tightening as I press closer, giving her more.
“Yep,” she whispers. “Yes, yes, I’m?—”
