The Coldest Knee Ice Pack Novels & Stories

I walked over, opened it, and took the ice pack and first aid kits from him and shut the door. I crouched beside her again and gently placed the ice pack on her ankle. She winced. “It’ll help,” I said, adjusting the pillow beneath her leg to keep it elevated. “You need to keep this on for a while. We’ll wrap it after icing.” She didn’t say anything. I looked up and caught her watching me, her eyes fixed on the way I held her leg. Like she wasn’t expecting this version of me. “I’m done,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s wait a few minutes before I wrap it.”

I should have lowered my foot already, yet I froze the moment he ordered, “Don’t move.” He lowered himself beside my feet. He cradled my foot against his thigh, then pressed the cool compress to it with light, deliberate hands. “As I waited earlier for the cold compress to arrive, I looked into proper usage—it should be placed on your foot for fifteen to twenty minutes, with a strict limit of twenty minutes.” I nodded as I agreed. “Maybe we can still talk even though there’s a cold compress on my foot?” “What happened to your feet?” he asked, ignoring my concern. “Why did it get swollen out of nowhere?“

Before leaving, I schedule an appointment for much later in the afternoon. With the injection and ice, my knee feels better, though I know it's deceiving and the best medicine is to stay off of it. Jordan and I wearily make our way to my apartment and fall into bed. Jordan's hair sliding across my face wakes me hours later. I stretch and take inventory of my injuries. The shot in my ass is still working and will give me twenty-four hours of relief. Hopefully with ibuprofen and physical therapy, this will keep me off the injured list. I turn on my side and look at the woman lying beside me.

JEREMIAH An hour later, the locker room was deserted. Sitting alone on the wooden bench in the far corner, I unlaced my left skate and let it drop to the rubber floor mat. A thick bag of crushed ice rested on my right knee, numbing the dull, persistent ache of an old high school injury. The heavy bass of Miller’s portable speaker was gone, replaced by the low, mechanical hum of the arena’s ventilation system. Reaching for my water bottle, a flicker of movement caught my eye.

He pushes the ice cube inside me. I scream. The cold inside my pussy – sharp, shocking, the cube pressing against my hot inner walls – creates a sensation I've never felt. My walls tighten around the ice, trying to expel it, the contractions only pushing it deeper. The cold radiates outward while my body heat melts it from all sides and I feel the cold water seeping from me and running between my ass cheeks onto the sheets.

was the heaviest. Jenny’s knees began to go numb against the stone surface. There was only a layer of denim between her kneecaps and the stone. The hardness and coldness of the stone were transmitted directly to her kneecaps, and from there to the inner sides of her thighs. Her toes were curled up inside her high heels, with the tendons on the tops of her feet stretched taut.

I put my hands on my knees and pant in puffs of cold steam and my eyes widen with horror when the ice crackles, growing over my boot. “Oh goddess.” I whisper, my heart sinking as I start jogging in place again. If I stay still for too long, I will literally become encased in ice. I jog and jog, my heart beating twice as hard to keep up and every time I slow, ice begins to form at the tip of my boots, my hair.

"Is there pain?" "Only... only a burning sensation," I whispered, my breath shallow. "Like my blood is boiling under the skin." Without a word, Aiden stepped away toward a massive cooler in the corner of the room. When he returned, he held a smooth, solid block of cold ice wrapped loosely in a thin cloth. He sank to one knee in front of me, his massive frame towering even while kneeling. He placed his large palm against the back of my knee to steady my leg, and then, he brought the ice down against my skin.

“Don’t you dare.” Clothes came off in a frantic rush. Shirts tossed into the front seat, jeans shoved down just enough. Dante reached into the center console and pulled out a small ice pack from the emergency kit he kept for after games—cold, solid. He cracked it open, pressing the chilled surface to my chest. I gasped at the shock. He dragged it slowly over my nipples until they tightened painfully, melt from condensation trickling down my ribs. His hot mouth followed, tongue chasing every icy trail, sucking marks into my skin.

Ethan clenched his jaw as he walked around me and pulled open the freezer and returned with an ice pack. He grabbed my hand and placed the ice pack onto my bruised wrist. A shiver ran down my spine as the cold of the ice pack sipped into my bones and we remained silent.