Page 48 of Snowbound
Then she gasps again as I drag the peppermint cane across her nipples.
"Does it sting?" I ask, my voice low.
She nods, her breath hitching.
"Yes. A bit,” she whispers.
“Good.” I drag the candy cane down the length of her torso—slow, teasing, deliberate. Over her belly button. Down, down, until I reach the top of her pussy.
“Owen!” She gasps, her eyes wide, voice already trembling.
I tease her clit with the very tip, barely brushing, just enough to make her shiver.
“Oh god,” she whispers. “Ah!” Her breath catches. That minty, sticky sweetness must be a shock, cold and sharp, lighting her up. And fuck, it hits me too—hard and deep, just watching her react to it.
I pull it away from her sensitive skin, slide it into the wet heat of my mouth, and suck. She moans, grinding against me.
I want to fuck her so damn bad.
I want her spread and begging.
Ilovewatching her unravel. I love teasing her, winding her up until she’s trembling and desperate.
And I love waiting.
“Open those legs for me.”
She obeys, slow and obedient, her legs falling apart for me like a gift.
She’s glistening, pretty and flushed pink with arousal. I stroke her with the very tip of the candy again, just tracing. Just watching her hips jerk. I lick the candy again.
I remember eating her out this morning. The way she came undone on my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair, that desperate way she said my name.
Bloody hell, I want her again.
I tease her clit with the rounded end of the candy. Her head falls back, and she moans as I tease her, over and over. I bend my mouth to her nipple and gather the peaked bud between my teeth.
I set the candy cane aside, lean over her, and snatch a length of gold garland from the nearby tree. It glints in the dim light, sparkling.
“What did I tell you?” I growl, giving her ass a sharp slap.
“Owen!” She gasps again, her breath hot.
I loop the garland around her wrists, not tight, just enough to hold them up above her head. I clench one end in my fist, anchoring her. She shivers, trembling beneath me.
“Mm-mm,” she hums, needy and sweet.
“Nope,” I say, my voice going stern. “Good girls don’t tell me what to do.”
Then I flip her over in one swift, practiced motion.
She lands on her front, arms above her head, ass up and waiting.
I remember how she lit up like a Christmas tree when I spanked her this morning—her face flushed, eyes glazed.
“You were a good girl,” I remind her. “You got your word count in. You obeyed me in the bath. But now you’re being a little naughty, aren’t you?”
“Owen!” she whimpers, but her hands can’t stop me now. They’re bound in sparkling gold, glittering like a halo she doesn’t deserve.
