The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) Nikki Sloane (sight word books TXT) 📖

It was hard though because the ice was incredibly cold and so, so enjoyable. His unpredictable path kept me guessing and my heart racing, and the second time he slicked it through the cleft of my legs, I shuddered with pleasure and discomfort.

His palm trailed behind, smearing the wetness around as the ice skimmed down my thigh. It carved a line along my shin, and then was gone. He set the icicle and the glove aside momentarily so he could use both hands to undo the small buckle of my shoe’s ankle strap.

The heel thudded to the floor and he immediately went to work on the other.

I didn’t get a chance to enjoy the sensation of the shoes coming off because he re-gloved, scooped up the ice, and scraped it over my instep. The cold was so intense, I yelped, and the sensation reverberated up my leg like freezing lightning. It made the muscles deep in my belly clamp down.

And it made Travis jolt in his seat, but one sharp look from Clay was more powerful than the ropes around my wrists, and it got him to stay in place. As I’d suspected, this scene wasn’t just for me. It was meant to push Travis too.

“You’re so fucking hot, Lilith.” Clay’s tone verged on evil. “Do you think I can cool you down?”

My heart leapt into my throat and pounded there as the ice moved along my skin, up over my knee, painting more water trails and ignoring the goosebumps it left in its wake. He’d wandered and meandered with the ice before, but he moved with purpose now. It coasted over the top of my thigh and went straight for the place where I was hot and aching.

I clenched my teeth and air left me in a hiss as he stroked the ice over my clit.

He’d been watching my reaction and power flared in his eyes—or maybe it had been whatever he was preparing to do that had turned him on so much.

“Oh, my fucking God,” I cried as my whole body arched, desperate to run from the sensation. He’d slid the shaft of ice inside me—only for a second—but the pain was acute. So cold, it felt like burning.

He raised the ice over me, showering my body with more drips as my body heat had sped up the melting. Freezing drops kissed my skin and he ran the palm of his free hand through it, swirling the water around and caressing me.

The combination of cold and warmth, pain and comfort, was doing things to me. I slipped further under his control, ready to do whatever he desired. If he asked me to go a week without orgasm, I’d agree to it.

“Did you enjoy that?” His question was mostly rhetorical, because he already knew the answer. Maybe he’d asked it so we could make sure Travis knew too.

“Yes,” I said.

God, he was so sexy when he was in control. Satisfaction twisted his lips into a smile. “Then, it’s all right for me to do it again?”

My heart was still throbbing in my throat, so I nodded.

The ice was set down beside me, and I watched as Clay grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head, then cast it aside. It was a simple action, but the effect was huge. It felt like . . . escalation.

Tension built inside me.

I gazed at his toned chest and since I couldn’t touch, I gripped the rope between my hands instead. My breathing went shallow as his fingers went to the snap of the jeans that hung low across his hips. He was too hot to look at, so I swung my focus away until it landed on Travis.

Well, that was a mistake.

Air evaporated from the room and awareness tingled on the back of my neck. Travis wasn’t looking at me for once—his attention was on the other man. He watched Clay undress like a mystery was about to be revealed. He stared at our partner with interest and maybe desire too, but it was hard to tell for sure.

Maybe I just wanted it so badly, I was only imagining it.

Travis blinked away whatever he’d been thinking, his gaze drifted to me, and then there was no doubt about the lust he held. It pooled in his eyes like beautiful ink. I was burning up from the inside, and it was almost sweet relief when Clay pressed the ice to my skin.

He repeated his action from before and the icicle made a circuit around the sensitive places on my body. Every nerve was awake and tingling, clamoring for more, for attention, for relief . . .

The ice pushed inside me, impaling me with a burning cold I couldn’t stay still for, and this time it was longer. “Oh, shit, Clay. Shit!”

I whimpered as the cold retreated and I could think again over the sensation. He climbed up onto the table and knelt between my legs, one hand holding the dripping ice and the other clenched around his erection that strained beneath his black underwear.

“Maybe,” he teased, “you’d like me to fuck you with my dick instead of this ice?”

I hesitated. Was this a trick question?

He gave himself a pump with his fist, then leaned over and spread my pussy open with his thumb and forefinger. It was so he could hold the ice just above my clit and let the water drip onto it. The impact of each freezing drop made me flinch.

His tone was dark and victorious. “I’ll do it if you beg me.”

Holy fuck.

I’d told him I didn’t beg, and my first instinct was to fight, even when I knew this was a battle I was going to lose. My grip tightened on the rope as I shook my head.

Judging by the smile that flashed on his lips, he’d hoped for this.

I inhaled sharply as the ice plunged inside my body, gliding in as if made of the smoothest glass, but it brought pain so intense,