Page 9 of Snow Bound

It was a wide, long slab of granite, smooth and empty but for the bowl she’d grabbed the apples from. It went clattering to the floor when he hoisted her on top of it and climbed up after her.

He’d had to let go of her hands to boost himself up, and she took immediate advantage, shoving them into his hair and giving it a solid yank. His wince made her heart sing, but it was short lived. He peeled her hands out of his hair and slammed them down on the counter over her head. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

He was looming over her, his big body pinning her down. With her hands aching from contact with the granite and her body screaming with desperate need, she lifted her head until her nose was pressed to his. “Make me.”

His eyes flared, and for a heartbeat she wondered if she’d gone too far. Then he moved, dragging her hands up until they hit the edge of the counter. “Keep them there, or I’ll tie you up and jerk off on your tits.”

She curled her fingers over the cool granite like her life depended on it, and with satisfaction stamped on his face, he reared back on his knees to tear at his belt.

“Just for the record,” she panted while he went to work on his button fly. “I’m still mad at you.”

He shoved his jeans down and his dick bounced free, hard and thick, the tip gleaming wet in the moonlight. “Fine.”

She stared at it, fascinated. She wanted to sit up and give it a lick, but was afraid he’d make good on his threat. “And I don’t forgive you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he reminded her, tearing open a condom and rolling it on.

She wondered briefly where he’d plucked that from, then decided it didn’t matter. “You should. You were a jerk.”

He put his hands on her thighs and shoved them wide. “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

Her t-shirt was rucked up around her waist, and the cool air tickling her wet pussy made her shiver. “An asshole.”

He leaned forward, one hand on the counter by her head, the other wrapped around his dick. “Uh-huh.”

Her breath caught as the blunt, broad head touched her pussy. He felt huge, and she had the panicked thought that she might not be wet enough for this. “A rat-dicked bastard.”

“Rat-dicked, my ass,” he growled and shoved into her.

Her breath left her lungs in a short scream. He got stuck halfway, her pussy clamping down in an effort to control his penetration. But he just drew back an inch, changed the angle, and thrust in again, and this time he slid all the way to the root.

He gave her no time to adjust, to get used to the feeling of being penetrated by what to her scrambled brains felt like a telephone pole. He just fucked her.

So she tightened her grip on the counter and fucked him back.

Already her pussy felt battered, bruised by the force and size of him, the pain layering on top of desire until they were one, irrevocably intertwined. The heat and pressure in her belly coiled tighter, grew heavier with every stroke, and the part of her brain still capable of thought marveled at it. She hardly ever came without direct clitoral stimulation, and never this fast—but she was going to now, and it was going to be amazing.

He must have sensed it because he reared back, going on his knees, and grabbed her thighs. “Nope.”

“What?” she gasped, not understanding. He yanked, dragging her butt up onto his thighs, taking away her leverage, and resumed fucking her. But in this position the base of his dick wasn’t rubbing against her clit with every thrust. The back and forth of his dick inside her was no less fierce, no less delicious, but without that contact the orgasm that had been looming faded back.

“Damn you,” she choked out, and let go of the counter to take matters in hand.

Quick as lighting he delivered a stinging slap to the inside of her right thigh. “Put ‘em back,” he ordered.

She blinked up at him, her fingers twitching. She wanted to rub her clit so badly. “Why?”

“Because I fucking said so,” he said and slapped the other thigh.

The heat and the burn had her gritting her teeth. God, she was so close. “I want to come.”

“I don’t care.” He fucked her harder, yanking her in and shoving her back, her bare butt rubbing against his jeans covered thighs. “Put ‘em back or you don’t get to come at all.”

“Who put you in charge?” she demanded, defiant.

“I did.” He jerked to a stop mid-plunge, his dick penetrating her halfway. “Want me to stop?”

“I hate you.”

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