Page 11 of Avalanche
“Can’t, sorry,” Eddie replies cheerfully, not sounding the least bit repentant. “I have to get my clothes. From my room.” There’s the sound of a suitcase unzipping followed by a faint rustling and Eddie’s off-key humming as he presumably searches for whatever clothes he’s left in his room. “Oh, and just so you know, Lily is planning on hitting the snow today. You know, getting some good training in on her first day off in eighteen days or whatever. I’m sure you approve of her diligence, as a medal winning Olympian and everything.”
Liam groans. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” There’s a soft flapping sound followed by the scuffling of feet against carpet, the creaking of floorboards. “So good luck with that.”
“I can’t believe him.” Lily rolls in my arms, turning to face me, her hazel eyes dark in the dim light. “Did you hear that?”
“Hmm.” My hand traces the shape of her bare shoulders, trailing down her side before settling on her hip. My thumb finds the bare skin between the waistband of her sleeping shorts and her tank top. I find myself swiping lazy circles there, reveling in the way she tenses and shivers beneath that light touch. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
It’s only half a lie. It’s impossible to ignore Eddie, especially in our small condo, but it’s equally impossible to focus on anything else when Lily is in bed with me. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of Eddie clanging dishes loudly in the kitchen, but it’s nothing compared to the gentle hitch of Lily’s breath when my fingers tug at the waistband of her shorts. Or the softness of her skin when I brush my lips against hers in silent question.
“Matty...”
The way she says my name, I know she’s going to follow it up with some excuse. Some reason why she has to get up. If I was a less selfish guy, I’d listen to her excuse. But my cock is hard and straining against my boxers. And now that I know what it feels like to be inside her, I find that I really can’t think about anything else.
“Baby,” I say in answer. My voice is a low rasp, throaty and raw.
I crash my lips against hers, hungrily, inexpertly, but with enough force to have the breath whooshing out of her, any protest swallowed up by teeth and tongue. Her lips are dry from sleep but I find myself groaning against them, my tongue chasing hers, my pulse thundering at the wet pull of her mouth as she sucks on my tongue and the way it reminds me of… other things.
It’s a moment’s work to roll her onto her back, settle myself between her thighs, pin her beneath me. She’s strong—there’s no mistaking the strength of those legs wrapping around my hips—but I’m bigger. Heavier. Heavy enough that I have to take care to hold my weight off her.
“Matty,” she gasps, when I finally pull back to let her breathe.
This time it’s a plea, a demand. I smile against the underside of her jaw before trailing hungry kisses down the column of her throat. I love the taste of her, the way I can feel her pulse beneath my lips, the sweet feminine scent that seems to envelope her.
“I… I want to taste you,” I whisper, my cheeks burning at the boldness of my admission.
It’s something I’ve thought about ever since that first time Lily wrapped her slender hand around my cock and made me come. When I’d been left sated, with my entire world turned upside-down. With the reality of my own inexperience staring me in the face, and Liam’s dark laughter skating down my spine.
I’ll teach you, he had said. The thought of it—of him looming over me, pressing my face down between her thighs—it’s echoed around my brain for weeks now.
Lily stares up at me, her lips parted, pupils blown. “Oh.” There’s a flicker of something in her gaze, a tremble as she draws in a sharp inhale. “You mean… you want to go down on me?” Her voice rises in pitch on the last few words as her eyes dart between my own, searching.
I nod, mouth watering at the thought of it. I’ve tasted her on my fingers once, a secret taste in the midst of our lovemaking. I’d felt guilty after, as if I’d stolen something without permission, like Adam tasting the forbidden fruit.
I’ve craved more of it ever since.
Her lower lip catches in her teeth as she squirms beneath me, her eyes dropping to my chest. “I haven’t shaved down there,” she admits. “Or waxed, or anything. There’ll be hair…”
She trails off as I stare down at her, bewildered by her response. Of course I know she has hair down there. I’ve swept my fingers through its downy softness as I parted slick, swollen lips. Felt the brush of it against the base of my cock when I’ve been buried deep inside her.
“I don’t mind the hair,” I tell her honestly, my brow furrowing with confusion. Should I be concerned about it?
I’ve got hair too, probably more than Liam and Antoine do, actually. Not that I’ve spent lots of time looking at their cocks. Just that one time on the couch. And that other time, when we were all in bed together. It was weeks ago, and the memory is a hazy fog of lust and sweat and naked bodies, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got more hair down there than they do.
Did Lily hate it?
A jolt of panic rushes through me and I try to tamp it down. It didn’t seem like she hated it, not when she was swallowing my cock until it nudged the back of her throat. Her cheeks had been flushed and damp with tears but she’d seemed like she’d enjoyed it.
“Do you not like hair?” I ask.
My cock softens at the thought. At the idea that I pushed her into doing something she didn’t like, that I’ve committed some misstep without realizing it. Should I have trimmed down there? Is that something that guys do? I don’t remember any of the guys I was deployed with mentioning it, but maybe it’s one of those things that’s a given. One of those obvious things that I’ve missed. There’s been a few of those in my life, I guess. Dumb as a box of rocks, Dad said. My dad sure as heck never told me to shave down there though. He’d bought me my first razor and showed me how to shave my face when I was thirteen. Be careful not to nick yourself, he’d said, and that had been the end of his advice.
“What?” Lily blinks up at me, the confusion written over her features echoing my own.
“My hair,” I clarify. “I know I’ve got a lot of it,” I add hurriedly. “I can trim it or whatever if you hate it. You just have to tell me, okay.”
I sit back, until I’m kneeling between her spread thighs and rest one hand self-consciously over my lap in an effort to hide the way my cock has softened beneath my boxers. It probably looks small now, all soft like this. I think about the tufts of dark blond hair surrounding the base of it, blending with the sparse hair on my thighs, trailing up to my naval…
