Page 126 of Top Shelf

I touch the ice to the hollow of her throat, and she gasps. Her whole body jumps, then steadies when my arm wraps around her waist. I drag it down the center of her chest, slow enough that water trails over her skin and catches the amber light. She shivers, trying not to arch, and I keep her held against me.

“You are very sensitive here,” I say, circling a nipple with the melting edge.

She makes a sound low in her throat, and her head falls back to my shoulder. I slide two fingers back through her again, letting the heel of my hand press against her clit. The ice in my other hand moves lower, and this time, she arches against me.

“Careful,” I murmur. “It’s cold.”

“Very astute commentary.”

“Mm, is that why you are dripping on my fingers?”

I slide the ice over the tight peak of her nipple again and catch more of her weight as her knees soften, my cock hard enough now to hurt behind my zipper. Beyond the glass, there are more shapes and a muffled sound. Heidi hears it too, and she clenches against my fingers.

“Your cunt just told me you heard that noise on the other side of the window.”

“So did you.” Her hand reaches back and grips my thigh, high enough that her fingers brush the hard line of my cock through my trousers, and I suck in a breath. “You like them watching me.”

“I like that they cannot have you.”

Her fingers press deliberately, and I grind my teeth.

“Do they know you’re this hard?” she asks. “Can they tell, Viktor? Or do I need to turn around and make it more obvious?”

My hand tightens at her waist. “Careful.”

“I keep hearing that, and yet I’m having a wonderful time.”

The ice has nearly melted between my fingers. I draw the last of it down her stomach, following it under the silk, and her hips buck against it when I press it over her clit.

“Fuck!”

Next, I pick up the candle. The wax is warm when I test it on my wrist, but still, I look at her in the glass for confirmation. Her eyes are blue enough to make the gold of her mask gleam.

“Please.”

I tip the candle, and the first drop lands high on her breast. Her mouth falls open, and I do it again, watching the wax bloom pale against flushed skin. Warm after cold. Soft after sharp. Just like her.

“You are so fucking beautiful like this,” I rasp.

It is too plain for what I mean, but I have no better words. I only have my hand swirling her clit, her body shaking against mine, and the knowledge that she trusted me with this piece of herself. A small sound leaves her as I drip more wax and murmur against her ear in nonsense at first, then Swedish or English, I do not know.

“Pull your dress down.”

Her hands move immediately, wrenching the silk to her hips.

“What a good wife. Let them see what I’m doing. Let them wonder what sounds you make, because only I get them. I get your breath in my ear. I get your cunt soaking my hand every time the wax touches you.”

“Fuck,” she pleads. “More.”

I drip wax over the curve of her breast, then chase it with my mouth, kissing close enough to feel the heat. Her hand stays on my thigh, tightening each time I touch her, and every squeeze sends pressure through my cock until my vision starts to narrow.

“You’re shaking,” she murmurs.

“So are you.”

She laughs, but it shatters when I slide two fingers inside her. I keep my palm against her clit and my mouth at her ear, working her in deep strokes while the last of the wax cools on her skin.

“Look at yourself,” I tell her. “Look at how fucking pretty you are when you stop making jokes and let me play with you.”