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  “I will. And you ask me, you know? Very considerate, very . . . sensitive.”

  Okay, so it’s not entirely playing fair to work her clit while we’re talking about this, but I’ll worry about fairness later.

  “I’m—ngh—trying.” Blaze squirms on my hand, trying to get my fingers inside her already, but that’s not happening. Yet. “I don’t want to—Christ, woman, I’m trying to be serious. Could you not?”

  “Nope. Talk later. I’ve got better ideas for your mouth right now.”

  I shove her away playfully, and she takes my cue, backing off my legs to sink to her knees. Then she’s grabbing the waistband of my pants along with my underwear and dragging them over my hips and down my legs, not stopping until she can fling them across the floor. Which seems a little theatrical, but Blaze isn’t one for subtleties.

  Since we are very much alone, I hook my legs over the arms of the chair and scoot my ass forward until I’m spread out at the edge of the seat. The better for her to service me. And service me she does, not even having to be asked. No, she goes down as though she’s been waiting weeks for this. Which I suppose she has.

  “I love how you smell,” she says from between my thighs. “I can’t go into a produce section without getting soaked because when I smell oranges, I always think of you. Of your sweet, wet cunt.”

  Holy hell. All I can see is the top of her bright red head as she goes back to work with her mouth and adds her hands, and, I have to say, this was worth the wait. Sometimes I ask her to tell me about the other people she’s been with while we do this. It was kind of edgy the first time and I wasn’t totally sure I liked it, but it turns out I get ridiculously turned on by hearing about Blaze getting off with other people. I don’t think I’d want to be there or participate, but when she tells me about it in her matter-of-fact way . . . there’s something about it that amplifies my orgasms. But we’ll get to that later, when I’m not so grateful to have her back, on her knees, in my hands, at my feet, and buried between my legs.

  I have a great deal of respect for the things Blaze can do with her body, like go ridiculously fast, defy gravity in those turns, wipe out and slam up the boards and get back up again not looking much worse for wear and certainly not having her dedication dimmed, but her mouth is maybe the most skilled part of her, and that is saying something when you’re talking about a SIG athlete.

  She licks and sucks, using her lips, tongue, and teeth, and I lay back and enjoy. I’m in no hurry, and she doesn’t appear to be, either, with the leisurely and indulgent way she’s eating me. It’s almost extravagant, but after being without for so long, I suppose I deserve it.

  Finally, when I swear to god she’s had her mouth on every centimeter of me at least a dozen times, she focuses on my clit and with broad licks, has me grabbing her hair between my fingers, pulling her face into me and shuddering against her lips. She’s set me on fire once again, and I tell her so.

  “Fuck, Blaze, You are so fucking good.”

  I buck and rock against her as best I can, and she doesn’t stop, drawing out my climax until the only thing that’s left are the tiniest ripples flowing out from my center.

  Finally, I’m sated and collapse, too worn out to even bother closing my legs. I can imagine Blaze with her knees tucked up while she leans her head partly against the upholstered chair and partly against the very inside part of my thigh. I can feel her breath on me as I stroke her hair and try to catch my breath.

  Soon enough, though, she’s squirming, and I smile without opening my eyes.

  “What’s the matter, babe?”

  She nudges me with her nose and it makes me laugh—silently, of course. “You know. Meanie.”

  “Me? Mean? No . . .”

  “Yes. I haven’t seen you for a month. I just got my fill of your cunt and now I’m horny as fuck, and you know it. And what are you doing about it? Nothing.”

  Her indignant grumbling is entertaining, but she’s not really mad. This is all part of the fun. “Yeah? What would you have me do about it?”

  “I want to fucking ride you. Grind up on you while we make out and you can taste yourself in my mouth. Because you’re still all over my face.”

  I drum my fingers against her scalp as if I’m considering her offer, but I want it, everything she said. More, too, of course, but I’ll take that for now. “Yeah, I guess.”

  And then I laugh because she’s vaulting to her feet, wasting no time grabbing me behind the knees to close my legs and straddle me as she was not all that long ago. She wasn’t lying about me being all over her face—around her mouth is still glossy with the remnants of some of the best cunnilingus on the planet, and I can’t wait to taste her. Taste us together. Which is what I do while she ruts against me. I can feel her heat, her wetness as she frotts against me, and goddamn is that delightful.

  It’s not so long until she’s panting into my mouth, her breath hot and coming fast, and her loud-ass sex noises because she’s not even sorry about her pleasure. Neither am I. I want her to have it, want her to have it all, and if I have a part in giving it to her, even better. And if Mrs. Meyers raises her eyebrows when we drop off the Captain, well, she does.

  The way Blaze is rubbing on me is getting increasingly fast, hard, and it makes her tits bounce into my face until I grab one to suckle, the other to pinch and tweak a nipple, and then she’s a goner. Calling out a whole lot of curse words and praise of my sexual prowess, and alongside all that expected sex talk that she’d give to anyone, there are endearments that are for me only, because I’m first in her mind, first in her heart, as she is in mine.

  “Goddamn you, Maisy Harper. I’m yours first, forever. I fucking love you.”

  Maybe that’s not the most romantic sentiment on the planet, since she’s other people’s second, third, fourth, fifth . . . and that might be just one night. But she’s happy this way, I’m happy this way, that I get to claim whatever I want and she can use the rest however she sees fit. It’s beautiful to me, and she makes me feel beautiful and cherished, too, that I come first. I mean, literally, but also in her thoughts and in her responsibilities.

  “I fucking love you, too.”

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Eileen and Titi and the rest of the SMP Swerve team. I’m especially grateful for Swerve for taking a chance on my ladies. A special shout-out to Christa; it’s always a joy to see your name anywhere near my projects.

  As always, I am thankful for my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan, who strongly supports queer books as a moral issue but also as a smart business decision. There’s a reason we gave you that cape.

  Gratitude for AJ and Teresa for making my filthy ladies sparkle.

  I don’t know what I’d do without MTS, LG, DO, KO, and EH. Probably see very little besides my computer screen and the four walls of my house.

  Thank you to my family, all of whom have been extremely patient while I have written and done edits on all of these books. The timing was tight and we were in the midst of kitchen renovations among other things, but I think we’ve survived. Right, guys? . . . Guys?

  And thank you to my readers, who have continued to support me through this series. I hope you’ve been enjoying all the winter sports goodness—there’s one last book to come!

  About the Author

  Tamsen Parker is a stay-at-home mom by day, USA Today bestselling erotic romance writer by naptime. Her novella Craving Flight was named to the Best of 2015 lists of Heroes and Heartbreakers, Smexy Books, Romance Novel News, and Dear Author. Heroes and Heartbreakers called her Compass series “bewitching, humorous, erotically intense, and emotional.” She lives with her family outside of Boston, where she tweets too much, sleeps too little, and is always in the middle of a book. Aside from good food, sweet Rieslings, and gin cocktails, she has a fondness for monograms and subway maps. She should really start drinking coffee.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  FIRE ON THE ICE. Copyright © 2018 by Tamsen Parker. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Mimi Bark

  Cover photographs: couple © Annette Shaff/Shutterstock.com; snowflake © Maria.K/Shutterstock.com

  ISBN 978-1-250-15344-9 (ebook)

  First Edition: February 2018

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