Page 12 of Snow Harm, No Foul

You could hear a pin drop in the silence. I’m pretty sure I hear my confidence disintegrating with each second that passes.

A beer bottle scrapes across the table, and then Niko asks, “He didn’t like when they shook while what, Ivy?”

“You know,” I push, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“While you fucked, angel? Because that’s when they move the most, right? When they’re bare and exposed, your nipples hard little pebbles just begging to be sucked on,” he says lowly, every word intensifying the empty feeling between my legs.

My nipples are exactly as he described, and they’re forced to scrape against the cups of my bra with each of my trembled inhales and exhales.

Niko doesn’t stop there or wait for me to reply before pushing forward, his fingers straining where they lie on the table.

“Did he force them into the mattress, Ivy? Were those big tits punished because he didn’t know how to worship them properly the way that I would have?”

I roll my eyes up to the ceiling and grip the edge of the table when I feel like I could slide right off my chair. His words—they’re like a tongue stroke along my slit.

“Mr. Shaw,” I whisper on a breath, knowing he grows more uptight and frustrated with every use of that name.

When he kicks his chair back a foot from the table and tightens those dark brown eyes on me, I know I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted.

A beat later, he’s smacking his thigh. “Come here, angel.”

“Angel?” I echo softly, wondering if I heard him wrong.

“Should I call you something else?”

I shake my head just once, warmth erupting in my chest. “I like it.”

“Get on my lap, then, Ms. Bell,” he demands, his voice hard as he teases me with the name.

“Can you say please?”

The laugh that rips out of him is cold, threatening in a way that makes my clit throb. “You’re not innocent at all.”

“What am I, then?”

“You’re a sweet little slut, angel. Now, get on my fucking lap.”

I slip out of my chair and, with a finger dragging along the edge of the table, sway toward him. I’m keeping my pace turtle slow on purpose, but when he snaps an arm out and grips me around the waist, I know I’m about to lose my power to this dominating mountain of a man.

He moves me to stand in front of him, his knees pressing against me before I’m yanked forward. I lose my balance and tumble onto his lap, gripping his bulky shoulders to try and gain some balance.

With a gasp, I find my breasts pressed to his chest and my jeans pulled tight across my ass as I straddle him. This close, I can smell the spicy cinnamon scent of his skin. Without thinking twice about it, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and pull myself closer, bringing my nose to his throat.

Two thick, beefy arms wind around me, holding me in place, and I moan, drifting my nose along his neck to the underside of his bearded jaw.

“You smell so good,” I whine, pulling myself further up his lap until my thighs are braced around his waist.

The bulge that appears beneath my ass has my head snapping back and eyes falling to where we connect. I roll my hips forward and shudder at the pressure between my legs.

“Oh,” I murmur, flicking my eyes between his. “Is that . . . ?”

He releases a rough breath and fills his hands with my hips, using the hold to keep me still. “My cock, Ivy. That’s my cock.”

“It’s hard.”

Slowly, he urges me to rock forward, dragging my pussy over that long, thick ridge between us. I slip my hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck, holding him there as I press down on his lap.

“I’ve been hard since I walked out of the back and saw you sittin’ at my bar,” he declares, a thumb creeping up beneath my blouse to rub the bare skin of my waist. “Nearly blew a load in my jeans when I got you back here and felt your hand in mine.”

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