Page 92 of Let It Snow
So much I want to tell him, but I can’t. I just want… all of him. All. I don’t want to share him with some Theo, some kid, some ghosts of the past. My fucking possessiveness is sour in me, poisoning me.
He should be mine, all mine. All mine…
Snow waits, observing me for a while. In the stillness of our bodies, only my dick throbs lightly, pressed against his stomach, dripping pre-cum.
Finally, his eyes narrow slightly. "Do you want my help or not?"
"I wantyou!"
There is just a tiny pause before he answers, as if he is thinking over what Iactuallymeant, but he does not comment on this.
"Then enough talking," he says in a firm tone, his face seemingly unfazed.
He probably doesn’t realize how distant yet incredibly sexy he looks right now, but I don’t tell him that—I just devour him with my eyes.
He raises his hands and puts them on my shoulders, then pushes me back down onto the bed. I flop, giving no resistance, as the next wave of heat is hitting hard.
My passage clenches so tight it hurts.
"I need…" I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut. "Please, fuck me, I don’t want to wait any longer! The pain—!"
"I’ve got you, Summer."
Then Snow leans over me, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance, already slick and open, so hungry, aching. The heat of his skin on mine makes me moan low.
Sure, I could keep arguing with him, throw accusations, but I want him way more. I want this to start. I won’t ruin it further.
There’s enough ruin around.
So instead I send him that miserable, pleading AO invitation, wordless but clear, begging him not to drag this out, to just give me what my hole demands.
Snow's face changes, becoming tense and wild. There is something almost animalistic in his eyes, reminiscent of a feral alpha.
He leans lower, placing his hand firmly on my neck, right over my scars.
His tattoos start to subtly pulse with tiny flashes of light running along them, as if mirroring the pulse of blood.
In the next instant, I watch as the sculpted muscles of his abs tense, the light flowing out of his tattoos as he drives into me with a deep, powerful thrust.
A cry tears from me, not pain, just shock, sheer surprise, because holy shit, it’s actually happening.
And then, in the next heartbeat, my body is ripped apart by an orgasm so intense I’ve never felt anything like it. I arch like a bow, taking him deeper in the process, almost swallowing, and my mind is flooded with a blinding wave of light, like a bolt of lightning striking my skull.
A wild howl rips from my throat, I just let it out, freeing myself from every last block. My hole pulses, the waves of pleasure slamming into me like I’m caught in an ocean, tossed by towering, crashing crests.
There’s this quiet, stubborn hope in me that it might still happen, that so-called First Orgasm, that somehow, even without the veradiol spike, the miracle could still take place.
But on the other hand, I have to remember that Snow is on suppressants, so there’s no way to definitively confirm if we’re True Mates.
The best part of this first climactic push he did?
This shit doesn’t end.
The room seems to vibrate with colors, the ecstasy just keeps going, and I’m trembling, shaking, feeling him move inside me, each thrust burying him to the hilt, impaling me, and all I can do is take it and shudder, gasping, panting.
My fingers clamp down so hard I feel the thin sheet fabric tearing. This is too much… How much more of this intense pleasure can I take? Apparently a lot, I know I need it, but it’s just crazy strong, so overwhelming, like Snow just pumped a massive ball of orgasmic energy into me, and now it’s burning me alive, ripping me apart.
Snow seems to sense my overload and slows down. I open my eyes and see his face—feral, unrecognizable, the face of someone lost in the fucking act, dissolving into it, his eyes blazing with intense violet fire.
