Fire and Ice

Christmas Carol: Fire and Ice
Lacey Savage

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2007 Lacey Savage

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-775-6
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Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
PO Box 1046
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www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Maryam Salim
Cover Artist: Renee’ George

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Christmas Carol: Fire and Ice

Lacey Savage

The ice man cometh…

Elle Sutcliffe will do anything
to stay far away from happy couples making out under sprigs of mistletoe. So
when her best friend asks for a favor on Christmas Eve, she quickly agrees.
After all, she only has to watch an ice cream store for a couple of hours.

Or so she thinks, until she
learns there’s more than frozen yogurt in the walk-in freezer. When she sneaks
inside to investigate, she finds a six-foot ice sculpture of a naked man,
carved to mouthwatering perfection.

If only Elle’s body temperature
didn’t run hot enough to melt ice from two feet away, she might be able to put
all that hard masculine beauty to some real use.

Then again, one brief touch
couldn’t hurt… could it?

Chapter One

“Tonight’s the night, Elle! Can you believe it? In a few
hours, I’ll be engaged!”

A frigid gust of wind slammed the door to the
Kool Kreme
ice cream store behind Elle Sutcliffe. In the busy summer months, the silvery
chime that announced new customers never stopped ringing. Now it echoed
sullenly through the store, its tinny wail mirroring the empty, forlorn feel of
the place.

Elle stomped her feet on the floor mat to dislodge some of
the fresh snow she’d tracked in, and gave Ricki Delaney, her best friend since
high school, a shaky smile. “I hope you’re right, but --”

Ricki waved Elle’s concern away with a flip of her perfectly
manicured nails. “But nothing. It’s Christmas Eve. Mike’s been waiting for the
perfect time to pop the question. This is it.”

Unconvinced, Elle yanked the scarf off altogether and draped
it over the hook on the wall. Her shawl followed. “You started dating right out
of high school. You know as well as I do those teenage crushes never amount to
anything.”

Ricki’s spine stiffened. Elle didn’t have to see her face to
know she was frowning, so she softened her tone. “I just don’t want to see you
get hurt, that’s all.”

“Just because your high school sweetheart left town the day
he graduated doesn’t mean all relationships work out that way. Besides, we’re
not all holding out for Prince Charming to sweep us off our feet.”

“I’m not --”

Ricki cut her off again with a snort. “Sure you are, Elle.
You’ve been waiting since third grade.”

Elle opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. They’d
had this argument before. It never ended well. She shuffled down the length of
the display case, glancing at the myriad of assorted flavors.

Ricki’s parents had owned the store for thirty years.
Although they’d passed away, their presence still lingered in the place. From
the vinyl bar stools that sat around the counter to the framed black-and-white
pictures showing two people very much in love, Mr. and Mrs. Delaney would live
on as long as
Kool Kreme
remained open. And if Ricki had anything to say
about it, that would be forever.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Mike said this
couldn’t wait, so I really appreciate you filling in for me. You can start
closing around eight-thirty. Technically we should stay open until nine, but I
doubt anyone will be by that late on Christmas Eve.”

Elle drew her lower lip between her teeth and bit down. She
didn’t have the heart to remind Ricki that no one came in to the store at this
time of the year. Except for her, of course.
Kool Kreme
provided the
perfect refuge from the endless parade of happy couples smooching under every
loose strand of mistletoe they came upon.

She sighed happily as she glanced at the ceiling.
Perfect
.
Not a leafy strand of the awful stuff anywhere.

“The tubs will keep in the refrigerated display cases, so
you don’t need to do anything with those when you close. Don’t lean against the
counter.”

Elle blinked, her brain trying to process the rapid shift in
topic. Ricki had just finished tugging on her boot, and she still had her back
to the serving area where Elle stood.

Or rather, where she leaned against the counter.

Elle jerked herself away. When she’d put enough distance
between herself and the containers, she peered at the display. She couldn’t
have been standing there for even a minute, yet that had been long enough to
melt the surface area of half the containers.

“Sorry,” she murmured sheepishly. “I should know better.”

She was usually more careful, but worrying about Ricki took
precedence over remembering to stay away from the ice cream.

Elle’s body temperature ran much hotter than everyone
else’s. It had been that way since she was born. Luckily, it hadn’t affected
her ability to interact with people -- the few boyfriends she’d had loved her
natural heat -- but frozen objects didn’t stay that way for long around her.
She couldn’t even hold an ice cream cone for more than thirty seconds before it
transformed into a gooey mess. Luckily, it rarely took longer than that to
serve a customer.

Her unusual ability came with a few perks. Aside from being
a great conversation starter, it also gave her a natural immunity to the harsh
Minnesota winters. When everyone else in Blue Falls donned mittens, hats, snow
boots and parkas, she felt perfectly comfortable in a woolen shawl and long
pants. She still wore boots to keep her feet dry, but she could choose the
sexy, flimsy kind over the fur-lined military-style ones that were so popular.

“Okay, I’m off.” Ricki beamed an exuberant smile and pushed
open the door. At the last moment, she stopped and smacked her gloved hand
against her forehead. “I almost forgot. Not that you go back there anyway, but
there’s an ice man in the freezer.”

Chapter Two

For the second time that evening, Elle blinked in confusion.
“There’s a… what?”

Ricki laughed. “A man made of ice. It’s for the ice
sculpture competition taking place this weekend.” Her voice dropped to a low
whisper, and Elle had to strain to hear her over the whistle of the wind
careening through the half open door. “Liam Blackhawk needed a place to do his
magic. The location he chose had to be subzero, private, and protected from the
elements. I offered the freezer. And oh, yeah… he’s still in there.”

Elle’s jaw dropped. “Liam Blackhawk?
The
Liam
Blackhawk? And you weren’t going to tell me?!”

Mirth glowed in Ricki’s eyes. “Teenage crushes never amount
to anything, remember? Still, I didn’t want you to have a heart attack when he
came out.” With a wave of her hand and another one of those infuriating grins,
she let the door close behind her.

“Wait!” By the time Elle reached the door, Ricki had climbed
into her battered Honda.

Liam Blackhawk
.

Oh, God.

Everyone in Blue Falls knew that name. He was the pride of
the town. They’d even renamed the high school from Washington to Blackhawk
High. Ironic, really, considering the man had earned his celebrity status by
crafting erotic sculptures. She supposed there were worse role models for kids
these days. At least what Liam did was actually considered art.

Only it wasn’t
just
art. It had to be magic.

His sculptures practically glowed. Brimming with detail,
rumor had it they worked as a potent aphrodisiac when anyone looked upon them.
Elle had never seen one up close, but she’d studied them online and in
magazines often enough.

Just recently,
Time
magazine nicknamed Liam “The
Medium Master.” She remembered that cover. The featured metal sculpture showed
a man lying on his back while a woman straddled him. His hands gripped her
hips. Her head was thrown back, her hair seeming to shimmer and move as it
flowed down her shoulders and over the length of her spine to sweep across the
man’s legs.

Strategically placed across the spot where their striking
anatomy joined, the headline read:
Is There Any Medium Blackhawk Can’t
Master?

As for the man himself…
Oh, God
.

An appreciative sigh slid past Elle’s lips. The photograph
accompanying the article was more breathtaking than the sculptures. His
piercing blue eyes peered right at the camera, as though he could see right
through the lens and into the soul of whoever happened to be glancing at the
picture.

He’d worn black jeans that molded to his muscular thighs. A
navy T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, highlighting the perfectly
sculpted curve of his biceps.

Oh yeah, Liam had definitely changed since high school.
They’d only been in the same class once in the four years Elle had attended
Washington High, but that had been more than enough. She almost failed History
because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

At the time, she’d been dating someone. And just like her
boyfriend, Liam had also fled Blue Falls right after graduation. Last she’d
heard, he’d settled in London.

Now he was back. Not just in Blue Falls, but here, in
Kool
Kreme
.

Suddenly, every cell in her body seemed attuned to his
presence. She turned her head to stare at the metallic double-doors leading
into the industrial-size freezer.

Arousal peaked at the apex of her thighs and her nipples
beaded, puckering against her flimsy cotton blouse. She pressed her legs
together in a feeble attempt to ease the ache that had been building in her
pussy since Ricki had said those two magic words.

Liam Blackhawk
.

God, his name alone oozed sex appeal.

She wondered where he got his inspiration for the sculptures
he so lovingly crafted. Did he study couples in the heat of the moment? Maybe
he had his own studio in London, where people paid for the privilege of fucking
in front of him just so they could be immortalized in one of his priceless
works of art.

Her right hand moved of its own accord, slipping over her
belly, pressing down just above her mound. Was he actually planning on
unveiling an erotic ice sculpture at the competition?

As soon as the thought struck, she was on her feet, moving
toward the freezer unit. It wasn’t until she was halfway there that she
realized she’d been leaning against the counter again.

She couldn’t even muster up the guilt to feel bad about
ruining the ice cream. It served Ricki right for not telling her about Liam.

A smile tilted the corners of Elle’s mouth. She should
introduce herself. Ask him if he needed anything.
Cup of coffee, Mr.
Blackhawk? Frozen yogurt? Me, spread-eagled and covered in melted French
vanilla?

Before she could change her mind, Elle took a deep breath
and pushed the door open. The seam hissed and cold air escaped the interior of
the freezer in a fine mist.

“Hello?” she called out as she entered. “Mr. Blackhawk?”

No response. A lone overhead bulb cast bright neon light
directly above the center of the freezer’s interior, but the edges of the room
remained shrouded in darkness.

Elle cleared her throat as she waited for her eyes to
adjust. “Liam?”

Nothing. Not even the flick of a chisel or the scrape of a
boot against the floor. Disappointment weighed heavily in her gut. He wasn’t
here.

Oh, he’d definitely been here at one point. She could make
out the silhouette of the finished sculpture from her spot by the door. But
aside from that and a few discarded tools, the freezer was obviously empty of
all but commercial ice cream cartons.

“Figures,” she mumbled under her breath.

She barely felt the cold, but her body hummed as though
coming alive in the freezing temperature. Her breasts felt heavy and her
nipples ached, begging to be touched. She slipped her hand over a puckered nub,
drawing it gently between her thumb and forefinger. Arousal zinged down her
veins, shooting straight to her clit.

At least she’d see the statue before anyone else did. Later
tonight she could fantasize about Liam’s hands caressing the ice while she
brought herself to climax.

All alone. Again.

Not that things would be any different if she ran into Liam.
It’s not as though he’d shove her up against the wall of the freezer and yank
down her jeans, thrust his hand between her legs and --

Her thoughts scattered as she finally made her way around
the sculpture. A gasp escaped her throat. She stared in mute awe, knowing her
jaw was hanging open but unable to close it.

It was breathtaking. No, Elle corrected herself,
he
was breathtaking.

She’d expected another one of Liam’s signature couple poses.
Instead, he’d sculpted a man. A fully naked man who towered over her 5’3” frame
by at least a foot, his head almost brushing the ceiling. His arms were
slightly outstretched, as though inviting her to step within the circle of his
embrace.

Elle’s breath halted in her throat. Her heart hammered hard
against her ribcage. Another step closer and she’d ruin it. Her feet felt glued
to the ground. She didn’t dare breathe as she waited to make sure she’d stopped
far enough away.

When she was confident her proximity hadn’t messed with the
ice, Elle forced herself to look again, slower this time, starting from the
bottom. The bulb swayed slightly above her head, scattering its muted neon glow
on the crystalline ice, revealing the perfection of Liam’s strokes and
emphasizing the firm, hard lines of the perfect masculine body.

Her gaze caressed the sculpture. She wished she could touch
it, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she tried to content herself with studying
the sinewy curve of the man’s calves, his knees, his thick, muscular thighs --
and came to an abrupt halt on his erect cock.

She gulped hard. The shaft was perfect, long and thick and
hard, curving upward slightly as though leaning in to kiss the man’s perfectly
sculpted abs. She could even make out small, ropy veins traveling along the
underside of the impressive rod.

The bulbous head was no less striking. Even the tiny slit
had been lovingly chiseled, making it appear as though a drop of moisture glistened
in the small groove.

Taut, heavy balls hung down from the base of the shaft. If
she peered closely enough, Elle could even make out the thin etchings of pubic
hair marring the globular surface.

She whimpered, giving in to the inescapable fact that her
lust had blossomed a hundred fold in the past five minutes. Now hopelessly wet,
Elle felt her panties sticking to the folds of her pussy. Her clit throbbed as
she stared with unguarded fascination.

She inched a little closer and licked her suddenly dry lips.
Just one touch… that’s all she wanted. One tiny, insignificant sweep of her
fingertip across that luscious cockhead.

Then she’d be gone.

At home, she’d extend this fantasy. She’d picture herself
shedding her clothes, climbing on the sculpture, wrapping her legs around the
sculpture’s lean waist and positioning her pussy just over the tip of that
spectacular icy shaft. She’d slide down on it, inch by inch, feeding the thick
length into her hot channel, feeling her cunt stretch to accommodate the intrusion.

Eyelashes fluttering, she reached out, her hand already
tingling with anticipation.

The tip of her index finger connected with the head of the
sculpture’s cock and a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She gasped, feeling
the rippling effects of that touch slither across the surface of her skin. Need
burrowed deep in her pussy, spreading outward and up toward her belly. Her
entire body hummed with awareness.

Elle’s head rolled back on her shoulders and she looked up,
past the perfectly sculpted chest, the chiseled jaw, the lean cheeks -- and
into a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

Her knees buckled at the raw power and intensity she saw in
those eyes. To steady herself, she wrapped her hand around the slick shaft. Cold
numbed her palm. She tightened her grip and stroked the length of the
sculpture’s cock, giving herself over to the carnal caress as she gazed into
those depthless, glassy orbs.

One stroke. Two. Three.

The first time the ice man’s cock twitched in her hand, she
thought she’d imagined it. The second time, it cracked the ice.