Page 95 of Let It Snow
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When I wake up, it’s a bit of a shock. I realize Snow is lowering me into a bathtub filled with warm, foamy water.
I blink fast, still dazed.
"What—what—what…" I mumble.
"It’s okay, Summer. You’re safe. Everything’s under control," I hear his whisper. "Just let me take care of you, the way you wanted me to."
Oh, merciful heavens, how good that sounds.
"Okay," I murmur, closing my eyes as his hands move gently over me—washing, soothing—my arms, my chest, my nipples, my stomach, my crotch. His fingers slide between my thighs, cleaning me with slow, careful motions around my oversensitive entrance. I squeal quietly… The AO sound, expressing gratitude.
The warm water brings relief, but also a kind of bliss that starts demanding something much deeper. And harder. Inside.
Yeah, the bath is wonderful and relaxing, but as soon as he finishes the washing, I grab his muscular arm and whisper, looking at him with a pleading, innocent, slightly shy expression,
"Fuck me?"
"Of course, Summer. I’m on it."
He lifts me from the tub and wraps me in a towel, and I keep murmuring softly in AO, sending him little invitations and pleas, begging for deep penetration, for deep breeding.
Snow answers with a quiet, soothing rumble in AO, assuring me it’s coming soon, just a little more patience.
He carries me to the bed, and I immediately pull my legs up high toward my chest, giving him perfect access to my entrance.
Snow doesn’t make me wait; he sinks into me in one thrust, sliding into my slick heat with ease, like a knife through warm butter.
"My fucking Fate!" I moan, my nails possessively digging into his arms.
"Damn, it feels so good, don’t you dare stop! Don’t you dare stop, Snow, okay?"
"Easy, I won’t stop, baby. Enjoy the ride," he murmurs.
And I do. I ride wave after wave of orgasm, not even knowing what time it is or if it’s still the same day—and it doesn’t matter.I’m completely lost in the endless surge of pleasure, my moans and cries and gasps being the soundtrack of Snow’s bedroom.
???
When I fall asleep, it’s deep, restorative, and just plain wonderful. But when I open my eyes, I catch a muffled sound.
I hear Snow talking to someone by the door. I don’t have the strength to get up, and honestly, I don’t want to. My body just isn’t in that mode anymore; it’s in the mode of being taken, being filled, being impaled. Using my legs is completely out of the question.
But my hearing is still sharp, so I catch every word of their conversation.
Lake says, "…I’m not sure if I can get rid of them that easily. They insist on seeing him…"
"That’s out of the question. Summer is in the second phase of his heat. Vulnerable, his body in full-trust mode. I won’t allow it to be interrupted."
"This man, some detective named Arnold, says an informant gave him certain information…"
"There’s a law protecting omegas during heat. If it’s truly important, we can meet him after it’s over."
Oh, fuck. So the FBI really did arrive! Or organized crime unit, no idea who they are.
It was a vague concern before, one I pushed to the side of my brain, hoping that somehow, despite being a mafia bride, I would be off the hook the moment they arrested my capo husband, but it clearly was a very naive approach.
In a sudden impulse, I call out, "I’ll talk to him!" loud enough for them to hear.
