Caution on Ice

by S. R. Grey

  I don’t—I plunge into Chloe with renewed fervor, fucking her until we come together.

  Afterward, we doze off, but only for a short while. When we awake, we snuggle some more and whisper sweet nothings to each other.

  When her hot little body presses up to mine invitingly, I’m ready for round two.

  Arching a brow, I ask, “Do you want to open that gift from Aubrey?”

  Hooking her leg over my hip and feeling how hard I am, she murmurs, “Yes, I think we should.”

  I go retrieve the gift from the dresser. That’s where I’ve been keeping it after Chloe gave it to me to hold onto after her car was towed.

  “Finally, we’re opening it,” I say.

  Chloe sits up and agrees, “Right. I can’t wait to see what it looks like.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Green neon wrapping goes flying, and suddenly I’m holding up a big fake dick in the streaming moonlight.

  “Wow, it really is Area 51–themed.”

  The bright green color gives it away, but the 51 printed on the side of the fake shaft leaves no doubt.

  Chloe’s watching my every move with great interest. Or maybe it’s the fluorescent lime-green dick that has her fascinated. It is quite a sight.

  “Bring it over,” she purrs. “And do it fast.”

  Whoa, someone wants to play.

  Good, I do too.

  My erection was waning, but I’m back at full mast as I imagine the many ways I can “probe” Chloe with this alien cock.

  Back in bed, I accidentally turn on a switch and the toy begins wiggling in my hand.

  “That looks, um, interesting,” Chloe remarks.

  Arching a brow, I say, “I’m betting this is gonna feel pretty good, Chlo.”

  “Let’s see!”

  She sure is anxious to give this thing a go.

  So we do.

  And then things get even more interesting.

  As I’m working Area 51’s magic on her, the thing begins to glow. It seems the more excited she becomes, the brighter it gets. Pretty soon the whole room is bathed in green.

  It’s otherworldly, that’s for sure. I suspect even more so for Chloe, as she’s panting and moaning, and then shuddering with what looks to be an intense orgasm.

  “Damn, Dylan,” she gasps afterward as she’s catching her breath. “That was amazing.”

  “Like out-of-this-world amazing?” I inquire with a smirk.

  “Something like that.”

  I’m propped up on my elbows over her and she urges me down, down, down.

  “I think though, Dylan,” she goes on. “I’m ready for you to bring me back down to Earth.”

  Eat your heart out Area 51. This is something only I can do.

  Where’s Jack?

  I start packing in preparation for my move to Dylan’s house. I can’t wait to live with him at his place. It’s been fun having him stay with me off and on, but he actually owns his house. Plus, like he mentioned, it’s far roomier than mine.

  The timing couldn’t be more perfect too. The next step, number nine, in the X Your Ex pamphlet is “Throw Away Something from the Past.”

  Well, as of this moment, I’m throwing away something I brought back with me from Phoenix, something intangible—my fear.

  I never thought I’d reach this point, but look how far I’ve come.

  There will be no more second-guessing when something feels right, like how it feels for me and Dylan. I love that man with every fiber of my being, and I’m no longer afraid to show him that in every way.

  If I get hurt in the process, so be it. At least I’ll know I gave it my all, and the fear of rejection or hurt didn’t hold me back.

  “I am ready to get started on this new life,” I proclaim as I finish packing.

  I head to the kitchen for a glass of water, and as I’m peering out the window to a view I won’t see much longer, I realize something.

  “Oh my God, I can’t leave Jack!”

  How will my rabbit friend make it without me? He’s used to a steady food supply. Not to mention, he’s practically tame. What if he trusts the wrong person and it ends badly?

  I shudder at the thought.

  Plus, there’s this—Dylan may be convinced Jack is feral, but I am not. I still think he’s a domestic rabbit. I mean, he sticks close to the back of my place most of the time, never wandering off too far. And lately when I go outside to feed him—not just carrots but now rabbit food as well—he hops right up to me.

  Coupled with all the other reasons, I declare, “That’s it. I’m taking him with me.”

  Resolved that this is the right thing to do, I fill his little metal bowl with food pellets and take it out to him.

  “Jack. Jack!” I call out.

  Huh, no response. So much for him coming right up to me and not wandering off.

  “Guess he’s busy doing rabbit things,” I mumble dejectedly as I set his food down in the usual spot.

  I head back inside to scour for a box big enough to fit a rabbit in comfortably. I’m pretty happy when I find a roomy one. This will do. I make a lining of super-soft towels and a teeny, tiny pillow and I’m ready to go check if he’s shown up yet.

  First, though, I should probably call Dylan to make sure he’s okay with this. I don’t care to show up with a furry roommate that’s unwanted.

  I make the call, and after I inform him I’m done packing, I say, “So I have a question.”

  Dylan says, “Go ahead, shoot.”

  “How would you feel about me bringing along a buddy?”

  With a smile in his tone, he inquires, “What kind of buddy are we talking about here? An Area 51 kind of friend?”

  That, though a misunderstanding, makes me laugh. “Ha, of course he’s coming.”

  “Just like you’ll be next time we put him to use,” he rasps.

  I sigh contentedly. Dylan’s lusty voice always works me up, but sadly there’s no time for this. I need to get back to asking how he feels about adopting Jack.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Okay, enough, mind out of the gutter for both of us. When I said I wanted to bring along a buddy, I meant something furry.”

  “That’s not helping get my mind out of the gutter, Chloe,” he deadpans.

  “Oh my God, Dylan, stop.”

  He agrees, albeit reluctantly, to behave.

  Finally, I get to the point of the call. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to bring along Jack.”

  “The rabbit?”

  “Yes. And before you start up on how he’s a wild animal, I’m telling you that he’s not. I’m almost certain the people who lived next door left him behind. So we can’t just abandon him. He’s used to us, and he’s accustomed to being fed. I don’t even want to think what might happen to the little guy if—”

  “Chloe, Chloe. I’m fine with Jack. Bring him along. I’m sure he’ll love the back of my house. There’s way more room to roam around, and everything is fenced in, so it’s safer. If he’s a domestic rabbit, like you think he is, I’ll even build him a hutch.”

  That was easy. Dylan really is the polar opposite of Sten.

  Still, I feel the need to double-check. “You’re really okay with this?”

  “Absolutely, babe. I like the little guy too.”

  My love for Dylan soars to new heights. I mean, a man who loves bunnies? How cute is that?

  “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” I gush.

  “You may have mentioned something about it this morning, but I think you better refresh my memory.”

  I mull it over and come up with the best comparison, something that’s sure to resonate with him. “I love you even more than you love hockey.”

  “Wow, that’s really saying a lot, babe.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Well, I love you too.”

  “More than you love hockey?” I’m throwing it out there, but with a fun note in my voice so he knows he needn’t choose.

  “Uh, let
’s not go there,” he replies.

  “Dylan!”

  I was just kidding. He better choose, damn it!

  “Okay, okay. How about if I say I love you in a different way than I love hockey?”

  “I think I can accept that.” And then I add, “Look, I know we’re talking apples and oranges here.”

  “If that’s the case,” he responds, his tone light, “then you’re the apple of my eye.”

  “Pfft, you’re so corny.”

  “But you love me anyway, right?”

  “I do.”

  After a few more sappy proclamations of love, we hang up and I resume my search for Jack.

  But still, there’s no sign of him anywhere out back.

  “Where in the heck are you, little guy?” I say on a sigh.

  I check once more a short while later. This time I cover the ground all around my place, as well as the area around the empty unit. But again—there’s no Jack.

  “Maybe he moved,” I murmur. “Nah, that seems unlikely.”

  He could be out getting some, right? I mean, he is a rabbit and they multiply like crazy.

  Well, I’m not giving up. I plan to check back every day once I’m gone. I’ll need to put out food for him anyway.

  I try to reassure myself that everything’s okay, but the truth is there’s something about Jack being missing that’s not sitting well with me…at all.

  A New Meaning to Bless This House

  There’s a game tonight. And since there was one last night as well, there’s no practice in the morning.

  That means I have time on my hands till this evening.

  “So why not move Chloe into my house today?” I ask myself.

  I see no reason not to, so I call her to see how she feels about moving up moving day.

  Only problem is it’s seven in the morning so, of course, I wake up sleepyhead.

  Yawning, she listens to my proposal, murmuring a tired, “Mmm,” as I finish.

  Since that’s not an answer, I ask, “So what do you think?”

  “That works for me, Dylan. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay, great, when should I come over?”

  Starting to sound more awake, she says, “Now is fine. I’ll jump in the shower and get dressed as soon as we get off the phone.”

  Hearing the words “get off” and the thought of Chloe in the shower leads me to ask, “Shit, you want to wait for me?”

  Laughing, she replies, “No way. You know we’ll never get me moved if we start that up.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, you have a point. Expect me in about an hour then. I’ll stop and rent us a moving truck on my way over.”

  “I think a van will be fine. I don’t have all that much.”

  “A van it is,” I say.

  The rental place where I secure the van isn’t all that busy. I have time to spare to stop at a local pet store and buy a pet carrier for Jack. Chloe told me she made up a box for him, but this is more secure. Plus, I think this’ll show her I really am fine with the bunny coming to live at my place.

  “It looks like the right size,” I say to Chloe once I arrive at her doorstep.

  “Hmm, let me take a look.” She takes the carrier from me and holds it aloft, examining it from multiple angles.

  Man, she must really love that rabbit. I sure hope he shows up soon or she’s going to be crushed.

  “I think he’ll fit in here comfortably,” she declares at last. “It’s better than the cardboard box I was planning to use. That is, use if we ever see Jack again.”

  Chloe is clearly feeling down, so I pull her in for a hug.

  “He’ll show up,” I assure her. “He’s bound to get hungry sooner or later.”

  “I hope it’s sooner rather than later,” she murmurs against my chest.

  Shit, I hope so too.

  We finally begin loading her boxes into the moving van. As we do, I sync my phone to her Beats Pill so we can jam to eighties and nineties music as we work.

  We end up having to make a couple of trips from her house to mine, but all in all, we finish up relatively early.

  “Hey,” I remark as we’re standing in my living room, “I think I can still get in a power nap before I need to drive down to the stadium for the game.”

  Chloe knows that’s my usual game-day routine and replies, “That’s good, Dylan.”

  I raise a brow. “You want to join me?”

  I’ve been staring at her luscious ass all day in her hot-as-fuck shorts, and I am so ready to get them off of her.

  Playing it coy, she demurely asks, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “Oh, I think you know. Besides, now that you’re an official occupant we need to properly christen this house.”

  “Hmm, I think we’ve taken care of that, like, multiple times,” she reminds me. “It’s not like I’ve never been here before.”

  I wrap my arms around her. “Yes, but you were never actually living here. Now you are.”

  I lay her back on the sofa, and hovering over her, I rasp, “This is your house now too, so let’s make it official. We’ll start in here.”

  Her shorts are off in no time, and I’m pounding into her just as quickly.

  “Fuck, this is so good.”

  “Yes, Dylan, yes,” she groans.

  I feel her shuddering beneath me, coming apart, but I’m not ready for this to end.

  I have a lot more in the tank, so to speak, so I suggest, “Do you want to move this to the kitchen?”

  She looks up at me, sex-flushed and disheveled. “The kitchen?”

  “Yes.” I hoist her up, and she wraps her legs around me. “There are a lot more rooms to christen, Chloe my love, so we may as well check that one off next.”

  She laughs, but not for long. Once she’s bent over the kitchen counter, pert little ass in the air, I have her gasping and moaning in no time.

  “Fuck me, Dylan. Yes, just like that,” she demands.

  I drive into her.

  And then I have her over my shoulder caveman-style, where I’m off to deposit her on the dining room floor. She crawls on top of me and rides me till she comes all over my cock.

  Then we’re off to the study, where we do it on the desk.

  “I can’t hold off much longer,” I warn her.

  “So don’t,” she says. “We can check off more rooms later.”

  Ah, thank God.

  I pump and pump, till I’m filling her with my love.

  Afterward, I lie down on the desk surface next to her.

  “Good thing you have a big desk,” she murmurs.

  “Among other big things…”

  Laughing, she says, “Cocky much?”

  “More like confident.”

  “Well,” she concedes, “you do have every right. Not only is your dick big, but you sure know what to do with it.”

  I hold her closer. “Aw, thanks, babe.”

  “Mmm,” she sighs contentedly. “I hope we stay like this, wanting to have sex all over the house all the time.”

  “Well, we’ll be like this for a while. We have a lot more rooms to go.”

  “And when we’ve christened them all?”

  “Maybe I’ll put on an addition.”

  That makes her laugh. And laughing makes her breasts jiggle, which makes me hard once more.

  “Have you ever done it against a washer when the spin cycle’s on?” I ask.

  “I can’t say that I have, Dylan.”

  “Oh, shit, you’re missing out, sweetheart.”

  But not for long.

  The laundry room is checked off next.

  A Coming Storm

  I hate that Dylan has to leave for his game. If I had my way, we wouldn’t leave the house till we hit all the rooms.

  We finally do make it up to the bedroom, but only to rest. Dylan has to get in his before-game power nap, after all. Plus, I could use a few post-multi-orgasm z’s of my own.

  So sleep it is.

  When I wake up a short wh
ile later, Dylan is already up and about. He’s quietly padding around the room, gloriously naked.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come watch us kick some Jets ass tonight?” he asks when he notices I’m awake.

  I sit up so I can better enjoy the naked-Dylan show, but then he finds a pair of sweatpants and pulls them on, thus putting an end to my ogling.

  Ooh, maybe not, though.

  The sweatpants hang low on his waist, so his muscular chest, ripped abs, and the insanely sexy V of his tapered waist are still on full display.

  “Chloe, did you hear me?”

  “Huh?”

  When I scan up to his face, I find his brow is raised.

  Oops, busted.

  Chuckling, he asks, “Did you hear any of what I just said?”

  “Was it something about the game tonight?” I venture.

  “Yes. I was wondering if you’d like to go.”

  I think it over. I would like to go, but there’s so much still to do here. With a sad sigh, I decline.

  “I’ll just go to your next home game. I really need to stay and unpack.”

  “Okay, sweetheart, I understand.”

  Suddenly, our attention is diverted when thunder rumbles off in the distance.

  “Well, that’s something you don’t hear every day in the desert,” I remark.

  “That’s for sure.”

  Dylan pads over to the window and, peering out at the darkening sky, he says, “I’m kind of glad now that you are staying in tonight. There’s definitely a storm brewing.”

  Another crash in the distance has me jumping out of my skin. “Yikes, it sounds like it’s going to be a bad one.”

  One thing about rain in the desert is that it’s an all-or-nothing kind of thing. There’ll be no precipitation for ages, but when the rains do come, and they always do, they are often torrential. Flash flooding is not uncommon.

  And that’s exactly what happens.

  A few hours later, after Dylan is long gone and I’m unpacking my fourth box of clothes, a weathercaster on TV reports that several side roads are flooded, and electricity is out in some places.

  “Be careful, folks,” he warns. “If you don’t need to go out tonight, stay home.”

  I’m not too worried about Dylan. He’ll be returning home via the freeway, which is, as of this last report, not flooded.