Page 59 of Ice Cold Hearts
“Make me yours, Ian,” I whisper.
He moans my name as he slides his cock into me. With every thrust of his hips, I get closer and closer to finishing, but I can’t quite get there. I’m missing something.
I look deep into his hazel eyes and say, “I don’t think I can come without my necklace.”
He scrunches his nose. “Your what?”
I grab his hand and place it against my throat.
He growls. “You’re going to be the death of me, Kitten.”
The pressure around my throat only intensifies the feeling of his cock sliding out to just the tip then being buried deep inside me.
“Ian,” I moan, “I’m so close.”
He thrusts into me harder. The only sounds in the room are our heavy breathing and the sounds of our skin colliding.
I feel the pressure building in my lower abdomen, and with one more gentle squeeze of my throat, I feel my walls clamp down on him as my body explodes with pleasure. A few more pumps of his hips has him spilling his seed inside me.
“Emily, I—” But whatever he was about to say is cut off by my alarm.
Instantly, I feel myself shift between lovestruck girl to no-nonsense mom. I jump up and throw Ian’s shirt back over my head. While I’m sure my men would love to see it, I’m not about to walk through the halls naked to get to the dresser where I keep a few changes of clothes.
“Okay, I’ve got to get a quick shower, get dressed, and then get Audrey up, dressed, and fed. We’ve got to leave for preschool in about thirty minutes,” I say.
Then it hits me. I’ve set this alarm for the time it takes to get to the school from my house, not here.
Frantically, I type everything into my maps app.
Okay. It could be worse. If we take 688 instead of Route 12 like I usually do, we should be able to get there on time if we leave in—I pause to do the math in my head— twenty minutes.
Shit.
“Make that twenty minutes,” I correct and more to myself, I add, “How on earth am I going to manage all that with ten fewer minutes? This is going to be impossible.”
Ian bolts up in bed. “What do you need? Let me help.”
My heart overflows with gratitude.
“I packed her lunch before we came here, and it’s in the fridge, so… breakfast?” I ask.
“Pancakes?” Ian suggests.
“Perfect.” I smile. “Can you get that started while I shower?”
“Do you want me to wake up Audrey too?” he offers.
“No, but thanks. If you can take over breakfast prep, I can handle the rest,” I say, hustling toward the door.
Even though time is at a premium right now, I still stop to look back at him in the doorway.
Ian is hauling on his clothes with the urgency of a firefighter to help me and my daughter.
I love you.
Should I say so? Is it too soon? Will it be weird?
If you feel it, say it. You know stuffing things down doesn’t ever do you any good, I scold myself.