Page 50 of Snow Bound

“Morning.”

She painted a look of mild surprise on her face—golly-gee, where did you come from? —and smiled. “Oh. Morning.”

He walked over to the sofa and her eyes widened—for a second it seemed like he was going to just snatch her right up. But he stopped in front of her and sat on the coffee table. “How’d you sleep?”

She wanted to clear her throat, but it would’ve ruined the oh-so-casual-and-relaxed effect she was going for, and it was hard enough to pull off, sitting there in her birthday suit. He looked really good, tousled and a little scruffy, wearing another one of those lumberjack-porn flannel shirts. “Fine. I was a little restless, but I read for a bit. That always makes me sleepy.”

“Hmmm.” His eyes were darker than usual, hooded. As though there were secrets there he didn’t want her to see. He glanced at the fabric in her lap. “Is that what you were working on last night?”

“Yeah.” She turned the half-finished sampler so he could see it. “It’s counted cross-stitch.”

“‘Dick is’,” he read and looked up. “Dick is what?”

“‘Abundant and of low value’.”

He choked out a laugh. “What?”

“It’s for my friend Lola. She wants to hang it in her office, right above her desk so visitors can see it clearly.”

“Your friend’s a little scary.”

“That’s what I like about her.”

“No doubt. You doing anything else right now?”

“Um. No.” She angled her head. He had a look in his eye that made her pulse pick up speed. “Why?”

He stood, taking her blanket with him. He tossed it aside. “Because you owe me a blowjob,” he said and reached for his belt.

She watched, trying not to drool, while he unbuckled, unsnapped and unzipped. He didn’t bother to shove his pants and boxers down, just reached in and hauled out his dick, already half hard. Eager to touch, to taste, she reached out—and promptly had her hand slapped away.

She scowled. “Ow.”

His face was a stern mask. “You don’t get to touch.”

Heart pounding, arousal humming, she worked up a smirk. “I don’t know how you normally do this, but where I come from blowjobs involve touching.”

His eyes gleamed—laughter and lust. “Smart ass. Hands behind your back.”

She obeyed—slowly, it wouldn’t do to look too eager—and kept her eyes on his. Mostly so she wouldn’t stare at his dick, six inches away from her mouth and looking tastier than any dick had a right to. But also because blowjobs with eye contact drove men wild.

And oh, she wanted him wild.

She linked her fingers together behind her back, shoved her boobs forward, and licked her lips. “Yes, Sir.”

He fisted his dick, eyes gleaming. “Sir, huh?”

“I’m trying to be good,” she said sweetly and fluttered her lashes.

His dimples flashed under his morning scruff. “We’ll see how long that lasts. Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips, shaping her mouth into a sexy little O.

“Wider.”

She hesitated for a second—wider would cross the line from sexy to obscene—then obeyed.

“Wider.”

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