I don't intend to gasp, but the ice he holds against the underside of my nipple bites. Delivers a new sting; part relief, part pain.

Freezing water rolls beneath my bared breasts, clings then drips to the hotel carpet between us. Champagne and the cube’s meandering path glimmer on their upper surface, goosebumps kissing the aircon.

I inhale. Swear the drifting scent is burning skin. Chew my lip. Groan. Steel. Eye him.

His tone is playful as my nipple stiffens further. “Enough?”

I taste pain. Feign resolve. Shake my head.

“Sure? If you’re cold, I can reattach the nipple clamps.”