The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  We made it back to the top of the slope and I eyed up the trail; this time, I was going to let loose. Wyatt started down first and I let myself indulge in the sight of the smooth agility with which he moved; he was an artist and his board, the brush, painting a masterpiece on the side of the mountain. Turning my board in his direction, I gained speed, breathing in the cold air, letting it bring my body to life. I carved down amid trees, flying past their snow-capped branches, feeling the powder spraying up against the exposed skin between my goggles and my neck-warmer. My smile became uncontrollable.

  This was the beautiful contradiction of the mountain: it could be both elevating, yet grounding. And right now, I needed grounding. I loved being up in the air, where anything was possible. But this—the chance to shut everything out, the competition, my brother, my fears, my desire, this was the rush of living in the moment. And my heart pounded its vehement approval against my chest.

  I managed to see Wyatt stopped amid a cluster of trees off to the side of the glade just before I would have flown past him. He was facing up the mountain waiting for me. And without thinking or caring, I swung a wide heel turn to come up behind him and shower him with snow; I cut into my heel-edge so hard to stop that, combined with the laughter that was now bubbling out of my smile, I fell right onto my ass and I didn’t even care.

  He held his arms out, looking down at his snow-sprayed front, and then over at me, cracking up in the snow. I couldn’t stop it—the laughter spilled out of me like an avalanche, tears streaming down and then freezing on my face.

  Wyatt pulled down his face mask, partially mouthing the word ‘What?’ before he broke into a huge grin.

  For the first time, in a long time, I didn’t have any weight on my shoulders. And it felt incredible.

  “You think that’s funny, do you?” He asked rhetorically. “I see how it is.” He bent down, balling up snow in his hands.

  I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to do anything except bring my mitts up over my face to shield it from the snow that scattered as his snowball hit my stomach. Not only could I not stop laughing, it made me laugh harder.

  I didn’t know if something was wrong with me, but everything felt right.

  “It looks like you’re having a little bit of fun.” He grinned in success. I finally began to calm just enough to breathe, pushing myself up to sit, and grabbing snow from between my legs. “You sure you want to do that?” He raised an eyebrow, daring my next move.

  Yes.

  I whipped the snowball at him, aiming for his chest, but landing a little bit low… My laughter immediately stopped as he groaned, his hand dropping the snowball he’d made in retaliation and coming to hold his cock. My hand jumped up, covering my mouth, as I waited on edge for his response.

  His left hand reached up to pull his goggles off of his head, tossing them into the snow beside him. “You’re going to pay for that one, sweetheart,” he groaned, pulling off his gloves and dropping them on top of his goggles.

  “Wyatt—“ I broke off, raising my hand as a stop as he unclasped his helmet, pulling it off his head to join his gear that was buried in the powder. ”I’m sorry--” My hands planted on the ground as I tried to push myself back as he stepped towards me, desire glinting dangerously in his eyes that I could now clearly see. I quickly found that I only had a few inches behind me before I was backed up against a tree. “I didn’t mean—“ I bit my lip, swallowing as he crouched in front of me. I heard the zipping noise of my bindings release before I comprehended that he’d just unstrapped my feet from my board. And by the time I realized that, he was kneeling between my legs, his face in front of mine.

  I watched in slow motion as he pulled my goggles from my face.

  “I can’t tell if you are just clumsy.” Click. My helmet strap released. “Or if you just like putting yourself in these situations with me.”

  I gulped, trying to find my bearings. “Wyatt… we agreed…” My voice was desire coated in desperation.

  “I know,” he replied, his knuckles tilting my chin up as his thumb brushed over my lower lip—a lip that parted duplicitously, begging for his touch. “But I have a question for you.”

  His hand slid underneath the side of my helmet, pulling it up off my head. I held my breath as his face came closer to mine, slipping to the side at the last moment; his lips just barely grazed along my cheek until they reached my ear.

  There he paused, my eyelids dropping shut as the serenity and silence of the mountain was broken only by the pounding of my heart that I was sure was echoing all the way down the slope.

  And then his lips began to move, his words the barest caress into me. “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

  My heart stopped. If he kissed me in the woods and no one but us would know, was it still breaking my rules?

  My eyes flew open and I turned my face slightly towards his just as he did the same. If there was any space between our lips, there was a good chance it was too small to be measured. Like where the sky meets the earth, my blue gaze met his.

  The moment froze between us like the eerie stillness before an avalanche. And then my lips moved, uttering the word that made the weight of our desire exceed the strength of our dissents.

  “No.” Barely audible, it shattered our sculpted, structured restraint. And then the landslide began.

  His mouth took mine. Just like the mountain, Wyatt’s tongue carved into every crevice of my mouth, before dueling with my own. I moaned against him. The waves of pleasure that I’d just been riding down the slope ignited under his kiss. Here, there was no one but us. There was no competition, no impersonating, no nosy siblings—nothing but us.

  My arms wrapped around his neck, my hips grinding up into his. Through all of the clothes, I could feel his hardness pressing against my core, a cure for the friction that was building inside of me.

  Even though I was surrounded by cold and snow, I was on fire. “I’m burning,” I murmured against his mouth. A second later I felt his hand reach between us, unzipping my jacket. He pulled me tighter against him and I awkwardly tried to wrap my legs around his waist—a little difficult because of the bulkiness of my snowboard boots. I got them far enough though that it put the ridge of his arousal right where I needed him.

  I clutched around his neck, clinging to our kiss—the only place where skin touched skin—as I rocked my sex up against him, groaning as pleasure rocketed through me. One of his hands laid claim to my waist, locking it in place as his body began to move against mine. His other hand slid up to cup my breast—my small flesh easily engulfed by his palm. In spite of my bra, cold-gear, and woolen t-shirt, he found my nipple immediately and I knew the layers had done nothing to conceal my body’s reaction to him.

  He pinched the swollen flesh through my clothes and I gasped into his mouth.

  “What are you doing to me?” He groaned, his mouth sliding and nipping all along my jawline as he began to press his erection against my core.

  “The same thing you are doing to me,” I moaned and he pinched my nipple again, sending fireworks straight down to my center. “Again.”

  Wyatt bit down on my earlobe as his fingers squeezed the hard bud of my nipple again; my hips slammed up into his. How was he doing this to my body - ripping it apart with the barest of touches?

  Our bodies were glued to one another, yet not touching—another contradiction created on the mountain.

  It was the most exquisite torture—and it was the reason why I felt my orgasm beginning to roll through me. I wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of his bare body against mine—inside of mine, but instead we were trapped by the layers between us. It was why even the slightest touch created a tidal wave inside of my body, knowing that what I truly wanted was still denied to me.

  Like the ivy, my legs clung to his hips as he began to grind his swollen cock furiously against the very center of my desire.

  “Wyatt…”
His name breathlessly escaped my lips. The friction inside of me was building and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. “I’m going to come…” I gasped, not caring how idiotic I sounded—like a damn high-schooler—getting off from dry-humping a guy. Maybe it was because I hadn’t had an orgasm in so long or maybe it was because I wanted this man with a desire that I’d never experienced before.

  “Christ, Channing.” His mouth tore into mine again. My chest arched into him, experiencing the first tease of my release as he rolled his erection relentlessly against my aching sex. I was drenched and the waterproof pants that were meant to keep the water from seeping in, were now preventing my wetness from soaking out. “Take it,” he demanded against my lips as his fingers tweaked my nipple hard one last time. My orgasm erupted inside of me like a volcano—starting at the bottom, its molten burn working its way up my body until every cell felt like it had been charred; I couldn’t see any of it, but I knew my skin was coated in goosebumps, all of my hair standing on end. My legs tightening like a vise around his waist as my hips undulated against him, the intensity of my climax momentarily blinding me.

  I felt his lips leave mine even though I could still feel the ragged rhythm of his breath on my skin. I remained pleasurably paralyzed against him as I slowly began to come down from the high, my brain and thoughts trying to regain their footing.

  “What are you doing?” I finally managed to whisper, knowing that I had been the only one of us to find release. My legs slid down off of his hips as his stormy gaze met mine.

  “Torturing myself.” He gave me a small smile before he pushed himself up and off of me; standing, I could see what I’d felt a moment before: just how unfulfilled his body was. Immediately, the cocoon of heat that had comfortably covered me was gone. I still couldn’t find the strength to move as I watched speechlessly while he picked up his helmet, goggles, and mitts from the snow, putting his gear back on.

  “We should get going. I want to make sure you have enough time for lunch before your lessons.”

  I just nodded, swallowing over the lump in my throat. The subtle reminder of the real world that awaited us at the foot of the mountain jarred me into action. I zipped my jacket back up, grabbing my helmet as I stood.

  “Channing,” he rasped my name and I looked up at him. “I’m sorry—“ he broke off, smacking his glove against the side of his leg. He waited a second even though we both knew I wasn’t going to respond before he angled his board and began to move down the mountain.

  I moved back onto the trail from the security of the glade, weaving my way around the many skiers and snowboarders who were now out on the mountain. I didn’t see Wyatt again until I reached the bottom where he was waiting for me.

  My stomach clenched at the painful mixture of guilt and frustration on his face.

  “Tomorrow. Same time.” I didn’t even have the chance to nod before he added, “I promise this won’t happen again.” My gaze fell. I should have asked for that promise from him, but I wasn’t going to. And yet, I still got it even though I didn’t want it.

  “See you then,” I managed to say calmly, hoping that my face showed the expectation of holding him to his word instead of the disappointment that I actually felt. He unstrapped and walked towards the lodge, probably to grab some food as well, but leaving me my own haven at Cup of Joe.

  I stood there for a second longer, trying to absorb everything that I was feeling. The knowledge that this wouldn’t happen again stood in front of me like a mountain—only it was a mountain that my body craved to conquer.

  FOR THE FIRST TIME IN my life, I hadn’t stuck to the plan. Watching Channing as she slept on the couch the other night, I had realized something—she may have plans, but she was driven to a fault; she was determined and focused to the point where she didn’t know how to let loose. Which is why she couldn’t even make it through a movie—a chick-flick, no less—without passing out from exhaustion. Watching her lie there sound asleep and completely at ease had me wondering when was the last time she did something for fun.

  I’d then gleaned from Zack, who’d questioned Ally, that Channing hardly ever went out, and not just because she worked almost every night at the bar. When she did go out, it was for a drink with her guy friends and she was never out long.

  Channing Ryder may think that she had it all figured out, but what she didn’t know was how to have fun. Yes, snowboarding was love and life—I get that, trust me, I really did, but there was more of life to enjoy.

  And when I learned that she’d landed this trick before, but no longer could, I realized what was going on. Maybe not entirely since I could hear in her answers that they weren’t the whole truth, and while I’d already made up my mind that I would find out that truth at some point, it wasn’t my focus right now. Right now, I realized that what was holding her back was the pressure that she was putting on herself—for whatever that reason was. She was letting that pressure slowly crush her, suffocating her skill right out of her. Channing needed to relax; she needed to just have some fun.

  I knew there was no way I was going to be able to convince her to do that off of the mountain, so I’d compromised: we’d stay on the mountain, but out of the park where all of her self-imposed standards lay waiting for her to fall all over them.

  As soon as I had the idea, I knew it was the right one. I felt it in my heart - which was another realization for me, but one I wasn’t going to explore at the moment.

  I’d expected her hesitancy, her questions, and the fact that it would take her time to warm up to the idea. Hell, I’d even expected my desire—planned on the price I’d have to pay to be around her, hoping the cold would at least numb my senses a little. What I hadn’t expected was the mountain.

  Maybe because it was so early, maybe because it had just snowed, maybe because we’d been the only ones up here—there were a lot of maybes to account for the magic.

  Yeah, she’d nailed me right in the dick—that was already throbbing—and I one-hundred-percent had planned on retaliating with a similarly-sized snowball. But when I looked at her sitting there in the snow, her face flushed from her laughter and the cold, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her legs spread and strapped to her board, I couldn’t stop myself from finding my way between them.

  I knew that I’d asked before taking her pleasure, but I also knew it was a question that she wasn’t going to refuse; I saw her surrender in her eyes the second my helmet hit the snow. And for that, I felt like the biggest ass.

  For the first time in my life, I resented winning.

  I’d promised her no touching, no kissing. And when I made that promise, I knew that I wasn’t just swearing it to protect her from my desire, but to help protect her from her own. I could see the way it ate at her to want me—her brother’s competition—which is why I’d settled with myself to maintain a respectable distance until the Games were over when my career on the mountain was done; then she would no longer have cause to feel that sense of betrayal.

  And Day One, I’d gone and broken it. I resented myself for winning her desire, which is why I’d called it quits for the day. Not to mention my dick had been so painfully hard that it would have been impossible to train in that condition.

  Even though I’d like to think it was a moment of weakness, I seemed to be having lots of those moments around her. So, I put on my game face and for the rest of the week I went to the other end of the spectrum. My plan didn’t change—we stayed away from the park the entire week. But I kept our conversation—and more importantly, our contact—limited and focused on the mountain. I wasn’t going to let her—or myself—down this time; she deserved more than my weakness.

  Five days.

  It had been five freaking days since I’d been on the park, since I’d taken a jump or tried to get any sort of air. Annoyingly, that wasn’t the tally that I’d been keeping in my mind. No, my mind counted the days that had passed since Monday, since Wyatt gave me my orgasm in the glades.

  Four days. />
  Only four felt like four-ever.

  I relived those moments every day, but mostly every night, still struggling to believe that he pulled an orgasm from me without even touching me. After which I dreamt about what would happen if he were.

  When we’d parted ways that morning, I felt in my bones that I wasn’t going to have to worry about Wyatt trying anything like that again. I saw the look on his face—the one that said he was punishing himself for breaking his word far more than I would have.

  I was the one who’d said it was ok, after all…

  I hadn’t known exactly what to expect on Tuesday when I’d arrived at the mountain, but what I got was professional-snowboarder-Wyatt. He wasn’t rude or curt, but I could tell that he was being very careful with everything that he said, everything that we talked about, and especially making sure to keep his physical distance.

  We’d stayed away from the park, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t given me pointers on my stance. We talked a lot about the triple—about what I thought I was doing wrong, what my problems were when I’d originally learned it; we talked through the entire thing.

  And now it was Saturday and we were sitting at the top of Snowmass park. He’d surprised me after our second run by making his way here instead of back onto the lift.

  “Are we actually hitting the park today?” I needed to clarify.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled - it still made my knees weak. “Time to work your way back into the air.” Finally.

  I felt the rush of adrenaline roll through me. “So, am I going for it?”