Page 26 of Snowbound
“Earn it, then.”
“What—?”
He releases my wrists and drags me upright. My legs are trembling, but I don’t care.
He shoves the rest of my clothes down, stripping me bare under his gaze.
“On your knees,” he whispers. “Right here.” He points to the little throw rug in front of the fire.
I scramble. Flushed. Dripping.Desperate.
“Put your hands behind your back. Arch it. Show me those pretty little tits. Let me see how good you can be.”
He’s still fully dressed—just jeans and a T-shirt—and I’m stark naked, kneeling, with the fire behind me. Him in front.
The second I obey, he steps forward and unbuckles his belt. My eyes go wide.
“You like that?” he whispers. “You want to feel my leather across your arse?”
“Oh god, no,” I say—but it comes out like a question. Like maybe I do.
He grins.
“Of course it would hurt. But the most delicious kind of pain… isn’t it?”
“I-I wouldn’t know,” I whisper.
He pulls the belt free, loops it in his palm, and gives my ass a light thwack.
Heat floods me. The pain dissolves instantly into something hotter.
My god, thatwouldbe hot.
Yes.
Yes, that would.
Then he unzips his jeans, and his cock springs free—thick, long, and flushed with arousal.
I lick my lips without meaning to. He fists his thick cock, using slow and cruel strokes with lazy confidence.
Unblocking my ability to write? Oh, fuck yes.
“Open that pretty mouth.”
I part my lips as he steps closer. His cock presses to my tongue, and then he slides in slowly, deliberately, making me take every heavy inch. My throat stretches. My jaw aches. I gag the second he hits the back of my throat, but I don’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. His eyes lock on mine and hold, and he doesn’t thrust or rush. He just stays there, thick and deep, watching me.
"I’ve imagined this," he whispers, his voice wrecked. "Your lips around my cock, your eyes glossy, your cheeks flushed."
Tears sting the corners of my eyes as he cups the back of my head. I suck. I nod. I ache. Heat blooms through my core, wild and wicked.
I can’t imagine he wanted me like this—on my knees, mouth stretched around him, used. He wanted me in the worst, filthiest ways. And now he has me, just like this. Fuck yes.
“Good girl,” he breathes out, finally moving. He’s thrusting slowly—steady and deep. I’m so full of him. “You’re going to choke on me. Come now. Take it.”
And I do. I moan around him, spit spilling from the corners of my mouth, wet and messy. He thrusts in and out, over and over, and I suck, moan, worship the sound of him unraveling. My hand finds his balls, cups them gently, and he lets out a deep groan.
God, I love that sound. I live for it.
