Chapter 43 Ice Cube Pleasure
Lawrence steps out of the elevator, briefcase in one hand, jacket slung over his other arm. The doors close behind him, and the penthouse suddenly feels more alive.
The irony of it all is staggering, because some months back, I'd have thought differently. (His mere presence didn't make anyone—me in particular—warm; it chilled me to the bones.)
God, he looks so divine.
Who comes home from work looking this good?
I mean, yes, he spends his day in air-conditioned offices and climate-controlled cars, but most people still come home with stress etched into their foreheads, their ties loosened like a noose, their hair mussed from frustrated hands.
Not Lawrence. His white shirt is still starched to a crisp, his sleeves rolled to the elbows in that casual way that shows off his forearms.
His dark trousers are perfectly tailored, his shoes still gleaming.
Not a single crease is in sight, not a hair out of place… except for that one stubborn lock that always falls over his forehead.
I leave the couch and walk toward him, barefoot, my heart doing that stupid little dance it always does when he's around.
"Hi," I whisper.
He drops the briefcase and jacket onto the decorative chair by the entryway without looking, his eyes only on me, and grabs my waist with both hands, pulling me against him.
"Hi," he murmurs, then kisses me—a slow, but deep kiss that has me sighing in satisfaction.
His hands slide up my back under the baggy cashmere sweater I took from his closet.
When he pulls back, he's smiling boyishly. I've seen that smile a handful of times, and still can't quite believe it's real.
"I thought about you all day at work," he says softly, his finger rubbing my lower lip.
"I thought about you, too, Lawrence."
He leans his forehead against mine for a second, breathing me in.
"God, I love it when you smell like me," he inhales again, before his eyes run over me. "And when you wear my clothes."
He gives me another quick kiss before stepping back to pick up his things. I take them from him.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, following him to the master bedroom. "There's still some food left."
He shakes his head. "No, I had a late lunch at the office. I'll take a shower."
"Okay."
I set his jacket and briefcase on the bed while he disappears into the shower.
When he reemerges and joins me on the couch in the living room, he's wearing a casual tee on grey sweatpants.
"So, what are we watching?" He asks, stretching out along the length of the couch and resting his head in my lap.
I smile down at him, my finger threading through his dark brown hair. "You know what we're watching."
He groans dramatically.
"You agreed to one episode," I remind him.
"Fine. Let's get it over with."
I click play, and the first episode of the first season starts.
We don't make it halfway through when Lawrence reaches up to cup the back of my neck and pulls me down into a deep, passionate kiss.
When he finally lets me go, his eyes are softer, with a silent sort of vulnerability shining through.
All thoughts of the show leave my head.
I don't care about demogorgons or Eleven right now. I only want him.
So I lean down and kiss him again, pushing my tongue into his mouth and pouring everything into it.
He groans softly against my mouth, shifting until he's sitting up properly, facing me fully. We kiss like we're two lovers who have been apart for months and are trying to make up for lost time.
When we finally break apart for air, Lawrence slides off the couch and drops to his knees in front of me.
I know what's coming next. And I look forward to it.
I always look forward to getting head from Lawrence because he's damn good at it.
I gulp hard as he gives me that look.
That predatory look.
Plus, the glasses. I can't emphasise it enough, but the glasses make things so much better.
His hands glide slowly up my calves, disappearing under my skirt, and I part my legs for him. He takes off my panties without breaking eye contact, sniffing them before discarding them on the floor.
I lick my bottom lip in anticipation.
Lawrence inches closer still on his knees. "All I could think of all day at the office was eating this pussy," He rasps in a low voice.
I want to tell him to get on with it then, but he rises to his feet and saunters to the fridge, where he pulls out a small, frosted box of ice cubes.
I wallow in shameless anticipation.
He returns, dropping back to his knees with the box in hand.
"This is going to feel so fucking good." He says in a seductive voice, taking one cube into his mouth and lowering his head, pressing it flat against my clit.
I gasp, my back arching off the couch as the icy shock sends jolts of pleasure-pain straight through my core.
"Lawrence… fuck…"
I feel him smile against me, rubbing the cube in slow, lazy circles, watching my pussy clench and drip around nothing.
The cube melts against my heat, ice water running down my folds, mixing with my arousal.
"Mmm… you're so sensitive." He says, the cube now in my cunt. "I fucking love it."
The cube shrinks under the friction, and just as I'm rocking against it, he takes the remnants into his mouth.
Then he wraps his ice-cold tongue, which contrasts with the warmth of his lips, around my clit.
"Fuck," I moan softly, my hands going to his hair, pulling him closer.
I'm fogging up his glasses, but nobody cares.
Lawrence sucks hard, the chill from the ice seeping into my swollen nub while his tongue works deftly inside me. One hand spreads my thighs wider, the other gently slides two fingers inside me.
Whenever he lifts his head or stops eating me, it's to take another ice cube and continue the sweet torture.
The sensation of cold and warmth is insane as he fucks me with his mouth.
"I'm…fuck, I'm… g-gonna come," I gasp weakly, grinding against his face.
He continues pressing the ice right against my clit as he sucks it into his mouth while his fingers pump into me.
I come all over his face silently, and he takes it all, growling in approval against my pulsing core while spreading my thighs wider.
My eyes grow wide when he grabs another cube, rubbing it along my slit while I still twitch from the aftershocks.
"Not done yet, babe", he mutters, his voice muffled against my thigh. "I'm going to make you come again. Harder this time."
The fresh ice on my overheated pussy makes me jerk, but he holds me down, trapping one leg with his forearm.
"You know you always have to come twice for me."
He slips the cube inside my hole, but not fully. "Once is simply just not…"
I feel the cold thing melt almost instantly as my greedy walls clench around it.
"...enough."