Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“This the reason you’ve been blowing up my phone all week?” he asks, jerking his chin toward her.
“No comment.”
I shoot him a look, but he’s already turned back toward the Zamboni, muttering something under his breath about “kids these days,” and “no respect.”
“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he gripes loudly, throwing the words over his shoulder. “Try not to wreck anything.”
George grunts one more time for good measure before trudging off toward the office. His heavy boots stomp against the stairs and he doesn’t bother looking back again, already done with us.
Austin bites back a laugh, her lips twitching. “What a delight.”
“Don’t let it fool you,” I whisper back, smirking. “Deep down, he hates everyone equally.”
“This is a dream come true,” she squeals, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. “I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I don’t even care that I’m in a dress and my boobs are falling out.”
With zero shame, she adjusts the neckline of her dress, tugging it a little higher, her movements carefree.
“They look fine,” I say, fighting the urge to stare. “Better than fine, actually.”
Her tits look so great, especially now that they’re struggling to stay concealed.
LET THEM BREATHE! I say.
She gives another yip, turning her attention back to the Zamboni. “Alright, what’s next? Do we just climb on?”
Climb on…
Images of her on top of me, moaning—riding me—suddenly flood my brain.
Quit being such a fucking pervert.
She beams, bouncing in place, tits jiggling.
“I’m driving first?”
“Uh. Of course,” I say, stepping aside to give her space. “Ladies first, right?” I guide her toward the side of the Zamboni, planting my hand on the edge of the small step. “Put your foot here, then you pull yourself up.”
She climbs onto the machine carefully, still in her high heels, with more enthusiasm than grace, dress hitching up her thighs, giving me a clear shot of a sliver of thong and her bare ass.
I do not avert my gaze, staring directly at it.
“Stop staring at my ass.”
An impossible task when I want to bury my face there…
“You coming?” She’s parked in the seat, both hands already gripping the steering wheel.
I clear my throat, forcing my focus back to the moment as I climb up after her and plop into the second seat. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Her hands tighten on the wheel, her excitement almost radiating off her in waves. “We only have twenty minutes, so let’s get this show on the road.”
Bossy little thing.
I smirk, leaning back slightly and gesturing toward the controls.
“Alright, first things first. We’re not going to turn on the board brush or actually shave the ice—or shine it. This is a test drive, not a full-on maintenance job. You’re just gonna drive.”
Austin nods eagerly, her smile so wide and genuine it’s impossible not to get caught up in it. The way her eyes light up, her whole face glowing—it’s rare to see someone so unguardedly happy.
And damn if it isn’t contagious.
I’m happy she’s happy…
“Okay, what do I do?” she asks, glancing at the various levers and buttons like she’s sitting in the cockpit of a plane.
“I think you just have to turn the key, put it into drive—and go. Should be like driving a car,” I say, recalling George’s very brief tutorial. “At least, that’s what he told me.”
The twenty-minute deadline looms in the back of my mind.
George is clearly depending on me not to screw this up—or let her crash the damn thing—trusting me with only a ten percent margin. Basically I had to bribe him with cash (five hundred dollars) and six rinkside tickets for his family the next time his brother and sister-in-law come to town with their kids.
Fine.
Whatever.
Austin giggles and follows my instructions, nudging the throttle forward enough to make the Zamboni crawl forward.
“Oh my God, look at me!” she shrieks, glancing at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “I’m doing it! I feel like I’m piloting a spaceship!”
She grips the wheel tighter as the Zamboni glides across the ice at an almost comical crawl.
This thing cannot be going faster than five miles per hour, tops. The machine crawls across the ice, leaving behind a faint trail where the wheels press against the pristine surface.
“Don’t let all this power go to your head,” I warn her, teasing. “We’ve got about thirteen more minutes left.”
“Plenty of time,” she shoots back, confidence growing with every second. “I could drive this thing with my eyes closed.”
“Please don’t.”
Austin bursts into laughter, the sound echoing across the empty rink. She glances over at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. “You can relax—nothing is going to happen. I’m going at a glacial pace.”
“I am so relaxed,” I argue, though my shoulders are tense. “I just have no desire to explain to George why there’s a Zamboni-shaped hole in the penalty box.”
“God you’re cute when you’re stressed out. This is such a damn turn on.” She turns her head to look at me. “Thank you for this—I’m having so much fun.”