Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I don’t want to wreck the nice antique couch with my sandy, icy, overheated body, but it seems like the only option if I want to lie down. It’s that or the settee, which looks even older, so I take the couch.
I spread out and find it far more comfortable than I thought it would be. It’s purple and gold brocade with three seats, but it’s about seven feet long. I thought it would feel like lying on rocks, but Mont found the one antique piece of furniture in the world that has some softness to it.
I put the ice mold and the towel on the floor and slowly work at peeling my dress down. It sucks. Every movement makes the sting boom and boom and boom. It’s not just one hornet in there. It’s him and all his friends, and they’re partying hard with wild music. What kind of music do evil sand hornets listen to? It feels like a techno beat.
I get the top of my dress down, and I’m soaked in a fine sheen of sweat by the time I peel away my bra. I force myself to look down.
Okay. O-fucking-kay. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I can’t see a stinger anywhere, and my nipple is only about eight sizes larger than it should be. It looks red and welted, but is it falling off? No. It’s still firmly attached to my body. It might look like a nipple monster from another dimension, but hopefully, with a little ice, it will cool down.
Ha.
I crack the ice mold open and giggle when I see the strawberry slices in it. It’s pretty and inventive. Probably the only ice Mont has in the house. The balls are perfectly round, and two would fill up my palm. I figure that’s probably enough. I save the other two for later and wrap the towel around the two spheres I have in my palm. They nestle perfectly around my welted alien nipple.
“Ahhhhhh.” The hiss of pain turns into a sign of relief as the cold comes through the towel and soaks into my skin.
I lean my head back against the arm of the couch. Thankfully, I do have the presence of mind to drag my dress back up over everything so that it covers me up. I don’t want to give Mont the scare of his life when he comes back out here.
Connor wasn’t right. Mont clearly isn’t interested in inspecting my breasts or any other part of me in any way. Why does that make me so disappointed?
I’m not. Not at all. That’s just the crab sitting weird. It’s the pain of the sting reaching my belly.
God, I’m such a bad liar.
I concentrate on making slow, icy nipple circles. I still can’t believe this happened. I was going to enjoy that rare walk on the beach, and I was going to enjoy it with Mont. We might have had a moment. We might have brushed hands. Sure, I got a ride in his arms, but I was so worried about the pain and the hornets and more potential pain that it kind of ruined the effect.
Circle slow. One. Two. Three. Repeat. One, two, three. One, two, three.
I close my eyes and get into the rhythm. It’s nice. The more the ice balls move over my nipple, the less pain I feel. I keep on counting because it’s working.
“Evilla?”
“Argh!” I shoot upright on the couch. The balls explode off my chest, along with the towel. Ice goes flying, and so does the rest of the fabric hiding my boobs from the world. From Mont, who is standing right over me. I didn’t hear him come up. I think I might have drifted off for a minute.
He whips around lightning-fast, and his hands shoot up over his eyes even though his back is to me. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything, I promise. I was looking at your face the whole time.”
Fuck.
Can this night get any more mortifying?
I bend down, grab one errant ice ball, and jam it onto my nipple. Then, I snatch my dress up and hold it all in place with the crook of my arm.
“Can you take me back home? Please? I’ll get my dress back on, and I can take ice for the road. I’m sure it will help, even if I ice it through my clothes. And…yeah, I’m good.”
From the back, Mont looks freshly showered. He’s wet again. His hair dried fast in the car earlier, and by the time we got in here, it was barely wet at all. Also, he seems to have a knack for picking out clothes that make every single part of his body look like a magnet for my mouth. His jeans hang off his hips but also cup his ass nicely. He doesn’t have a man bubble butt, just a nice, muscular butt that his jeans do wonders for.