Page 29 of Seduction on the Slopes

“Ah.” The shit-eating grin on his face is just . . . God it makes me hard. As if I weren’t already, but now I feel like I’m going to bust through my pants. “Tell me how you want it.”

Hell.

My mouth must be gaping open like a fish’s, because I’ve got nothing to say, and he thinks it’s funny. He’s going to tease me, because he can. Not my fault that when he kisses me, it’s like my brain’s a margarita in a cocktail shaker.

“Come on, Crash. Tell me. Tell me and I might even give it to you.”

He punctuates his request—promise? threat?—with another rock of his hips, another bruising kiss that leaves me dizzy and gasping for air.

“That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.”

The bastard chuckles. There’s no other way to describe it. He’s so goddamn pleased with himself, and the corner of his mouth curls up in the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen. “Only one way to find out.”

I drop my head back against the wall and groan. And then think. How do I want it?

Apparently Miles has gotten bored, because he’s started kissing my neck, humming as he does it. How am I supposed to concentrate while he’s doing this? But honestly, thinking about all the ways I’d like to be with Miles isn’t all that hard. For today, though?

“I want to suck you and then I want you inside me.”

He nods against my neck, and then with a sharp bite to my earlobe, makes an agreeable sound. I’ll take that as a yes.

“Take a shower first, because I won’t be able to do my best work with you smelling like that.”

Fair. I don’t want him thinking about it anymore, either. Not how shitty he felt, anyway.

Miles removes the cage of his body and I practically spring to the bathroom, flinging my clothes off as I go, and as I close the door, I hear him laughing.

Chapter Fifteen

Miles

Thankfully, Crash is quick in the shower. He’s not the only one rattled, and having him suck me off is a good way to clear my head. Also my balls, because the kid could probably hoover me dry if he put his mind to it, but he’s asked to be fucked so I won’t let it get that far. This time.

When he comes out of the bathroom, he hasn’t bothered with clothes, or even with a towel around his waist. He is . . . a delight to look at. You wouldn’t think the skintight uniforms we wear would leave much to the imagination, but you’d be wrong. Yes, I had a general sense of Crash’s dimensions, but not the details. It was like looking at a painting through a bag. But with nothing between him and me, I can see how his body’s been put together, how the whole of him is greater than the sum of his parts.

He’s leaner than he probably ought to be, skin clinging too closely to muscle and bone, but he’s beautiful nonetheless. Defined abs, and a trail of light brown hair that leads down to that marvelous hard-on of his. As with everything else about him, Crash’s dick is not subtle. It’s thick, and even from here, it looks so hard it’s practically throbbing. I want to make it worse.

So I gesture him over to the bed. “As you were.”

His eyes are wide and glossy, and he does as I ask without argument. Jesus, if I had known fooling around with Crash would get him to shut up and listen to me, I might’ve started doing it way sooner.

Once he’s situated, head and shoulders resting against the wall with his calves dangling off the edge of the bed, I stand between his knees and take my own clothes off. Make him watch and enjoy how focused he is. The only times I get to see him like this are when he’s hurtling down a mountain or here with me. Gives a little boost to my—okay, already healthy—ego.

Crash starts to lean forward, greedy, hands reaching even as his mouth opens, but I stop him with a hand on his chest and push him playfully back, wagging a finger. “Not yet.”

He’s slouched down some, which means when I climb up and straddle him, not sitting back on my heels but kneeling up on the mattress, we’re just about at the perfect height for him to take me in his mouth. Guy is practically drooling and has completely lost interest in my face. A bizarre fondness creeps into my chest. Fondness is all it is. Is all I can afford for it to be. Because the day after tomorrow, I’m going to have to shred Crash’s ass, and not the way I’m going to shortly.

Don’t think about that now.

While he’s trapped by my wishes, I can do whatever I want, so I reach out and put a hand to his face, use my thumb to trace the line of his scruff across his cheek. That gets his attention, and when he looks up at me, his expression is unguarded and raw. Hungry, yes, but also . . . vulnerable? Hopeful? I don’t know, but it hurts to see it, like looking directly into the sun.

I can’t handle it anymore. That look of reverence makes my stomach flop, and I don’t . . . flop. It’s easy enough to urge him forward, and when I do, he opens his mouth and takes me inside. Not far at first, just his soft lips and a flick of his blissfully wet tongue. He doesn’t need to swallow me down for it to feel incredible. Turns out in addition to being an extraordinary skier, he’s also a phenomenal cocksucker. Jesus, his mouth.

Because I know he likes praise, I tell him how good he’s making me feel, let him hear the sounds I might hide from other lovers because they’re too revealing. The sensations that are coursing through my body come out of my mouth as desperate groans, air hissed out through my teeth. They’re not pretty, but Crash takes my words and uncouth noises as not only encouragement, but a challenge.Oh yeah? I can do better.Can he ever. His tongue swirls around my crown and then he’s taking me deep into the unbelievable tight heat of his throat.

“Christ, does that feel good. But if you want to get fucked after this, I’d recommend backing off.” Because my balls are tightening, and I can already anticipate what it would feel like to spill in his mouth. Jesus.

He swallows first, which, who taught this man to be a blowjob virtuoso? Maybe he’s just some kind of prodigy, but goddamn.

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