Page 67 of Snowman

"Yes, but…" She hesitated.

"I don't like waiting," I said evenly, letting my stare rest on her.

Her breath hitched, but she complied. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she lifted her arms and tugged at the top of her shirt. She wasn't sure, but there was a quiet determination in the way she pulled the fabric off her body. Her blonde curls spilled forward as her shirt slipped past her head and fluttered to the floor, leaving her in just her bra. Her pale skin bore nothing but goosebumps.

She looked at me, took a shaky breath, then stepped up to the table. Her fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans—one leg, then the other—and the pants slid down her hips, past her knees, before falling to the floor in a messy pile.

I stood with my arms crossed, watching her in silence, lit candle still in my hand. My eyes roamed, drinking in every curve, every detail. She moved beneath my stare but did not back away.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Her lips smiled, and her body lowered into a squat.

"Lie down!"

She obeyed, stretching out along the cool wood of the table. Her hair fanned around her head, and her breathing steadied.

"Close your eyes."

I moved around her, circling the table slowly, like a predator, my eyes searching for the perfect spot. When I found it, I paused, letting one drop of wax land on her skin. She flinched, a sharp gasp escaping her mouth, but her eyes remained closed. The tension in her muscles eased as quickly as it had built, her lips pressed together between her teeth.

She wanted more.

I continued, one drop at a time, the wax tracing a path from the curve of her neck down to her stomach. Her skin flushed where the heat kissed it, the faintest sheen of sweat catching thelight. Each drop seemed to pull her deeper into addiction, and I was here for all of it.

"Do you trust me now?" I raised my brow.

She bit her lip again, her head nodding slightly.

I slid my hand to the edge of her hips, fingers brushing under the fabric of her thong. I pulled at the fabric, sliding it down her legs, past her ankles, until I had them completely off her. The room was still, except for the soft sound of her breathing. Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with her racing heart.

"Spread your legs, Bree," I said, and she hesitated a little, but after a few seconds, she moved her legs from edge to edge of the table.

I moved my hand to her ankle, and my fingers slid gently from her foot to her inner thighs, until I was so close that my hand hovered above her. I spread her lower lips, pulled them gently upwards, and dripped the wax gently on top. She moaned softly, her hands gripped the edges of the table, holding on tightly from one side to the other.

"Do you want me to continue?"

She opened her eyes, locking onto mine.

"Not sure," she said softly, biting her lips.

The answer had already been decided, I asked just to prepare her what was coming next.

I let another drop fall, this time dangerously close to her clit. The wax landed with a soft hiss, the burn sending shivers down her skin.

"Maybe," she chuckled, her eyes closing again, surrendering once more.

I blew out the candle, wax still held its warmth. Slowly, I lowered it down, holding it upright as I positioned it near her clit again. I moved the candle side to side, the gentle pressure making her moan. Her nails scraped against the wood, leaving faint crescents on the wooden edge.

After a moment, I moved the candle and set it at the edge of the table. As the candle dropped, I grasped her legs, pulling her down to me until her hips met mine.

She spread her leg, her hands holding onto the edges of the table, trying to ground herself. She was insatiable, and her eyes consumed me, mirroring my hunger for every part of her.

I pushed her back from the edge, far enough but close enough. I walked slowly to the wall where a smaller axe with a painted edge hung. Taking it in my hands, my fingers traced the edge—dull in some places, but sharp enough. Moving to the middle of the left side of the table, I leaned over her, pressed a kiss to the curve of her stomach, and drove the axe into the edge of the table, right between her legs. She screamed so loudly in panic as the point of the axe board barely lightly brushed the tip of her clitoris.

"You're crazy!"

I moved closer to her, kissing her neck, "Crazy about you, Bree." My lips gently traced the path to her ear, whispering in a soft hum, "Ride that axe like you would ride me."

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