The Winter Games

by Sharp, Dr. Rebecca

  The fire reflected in his eyes. “Me neither.”

  Why was he just standing there? I swallowed thickly. I would have bet my savings that my clothes would have been off the second that we walked in the door. But, he just stood there watching me… like I was some sort of vision.

  I quickly took in the rest of the room. The tiny kitchen off to his left. The small table on the other side of the living room. The walls were bare. Granted, half of them were covered with windows, but still. There were no pictures, save one that sat on the mantle. I couldn’t see anything besides the frame because I was standing almost directly in line with it—and I didn’t want to move.

  Stairs led up to a loft. Looking at that drew my eyes up, to where the windows continued onto the roof. I stared at the snow that mingled with stars.

  “Take off your clothes.” My head jerked back at his command. “You have five seconds before I rip them off.”

  Thank God the zipper was short because my fingers had never moved so clumsily. I shimmied out of the tight fabric and let it fall to the floor, using my foot to push it to the side.

  He took a few steps closing the space between us.

  “You know,” one hand raised, his knuckle brushing back and forth over my left nipple that was already achingly hard—the sensation sending distress flares down to my core, “the night I met you,” back and forth, “you were wearing that top that it seems you had the good sense to dispose of.”

  I still had it. Stuffed in the back of a drawer, never to be worn again.

  “All I wanted to do was drop the damn pizza and reach my hands up underneath it,” now both of his hands had fingers gripped on each of my nipples, “and tug.” And he did. I fought for air as he tortured my nipples, completely focused on them, I watched as his need ravaged his face.

  “I had no fucking idea how perfect they’d be.” He laughed, lightly tracing around the reddening peaks. “I could have never imagined…” My knees gave out as he flicked them both and I grabbed onto his sleeve. “I tortured you that night because they tortured me. All I could think about was all the ways I could make you come just by touching them.” He grinned, adding, “One day.”

  “Emmett!” I gasped as he flicked them again and thought for sure that day might be today.

  “And then, you gave me that sass… and I thought of so many other things that I wanted to do. To punish you. For not listening to me.” I felt a finger trail down my sternum. “Just like now.”

  “Wha—“ The tiny pop of the seam of my underwear ripping silenced me.

  He pulled my thong up in between us, holding it for me to see. “I told you to take off your clothes.” Gulp.

  And then he walked over to the fireplace. “Emmett!” I screamed, but it was too late; my sexy black panties had already burst into flames.

  “Better.”

  “I can’t believe you just torched my underwear!” And how turned on I was by it.

  I backed up as he walked towards me. His stride was longer though—and I wanted to be caught. His fingers returned to my nipples, pulling them hard—pulling me against him so that his mouth could punish mine.

  His tongue claimed me just like I knew he’d claim the rest of my body soon. Hopefully, soon. The way his hands kneaded my breasts was making me burn.

  I gasped. The glass of the window was frigid against my naked back. I panted his name just as one of his hands found my folds. I arched against him—his mouth, his body, his hands.

  He grinned at my suffering. “This is my house.” His fingers flicked over my clit so fast I swore he was trying to make whipped cream. “My rules.” Two fingers slid inside my sex and curled right into my G-spot; I saw stars.

  His other hand threaded through my hair, holding the back of my head. “And now,” he rasped into my ear, his fingers pushed furiously inside of me, “you are mine.” I almost collapsed when I felt him disappear; I’d been so close.

  I watched in a daze as he raised his hand that was covered in my desire in front of me. I thought he was going to lick it off; I loved when he did that. Instead, his hand moved past my face, to the window next to my head, where he proceeded to write a word onto the pristinely cleaned glass.

  I held my breath. I couldn’t see what he’d written, but I knew I would know soon. When he was done, he flipped me around and back against his chest.

  “Mine,” he growled. The word echoed in its written form on the window, engraved with my desire.

  Yes.

  My hips rolled back against the hard ridge now cradled against my ass. He let out a curse as his hand cupped my sex, holding me steady. Those fingers found their way back inside.

  My head lolled back against him, watching his hand move in and out of me in the glass. “Yours.” My reward was his other hand on my breast, thumbing over my nipple.

  “Now, write it.” My eyes jerked to his in the glass and were greeted with a devilish smirk. “Just like I did.”

  My mouth went drier than sand. It was so dirty—what he wanted. But my body listened. My hand drifted with a life of its own to where he was still fingering me. And he didn’t stop. I fought him and my need to orgasm to coat my fingers in my own desire.

  My hand shook like a freaking slinky as I moved my fingers to the window. The closer I got to the window, the more he pleasured me. The more he pleasured me, the harder it was to even remember what I was doing, let alone do it.

  Catch-22.

  With the worst penmanship I’d ever produced, my finger scrawled the letters onto the glass—milky white marring the clear. I moaned with every stroke of my finger—and his.

  I lost it by the time I got to the ‘s.’ At the end of the curve, three fingers curled into me and his other hand pinched my clit.

  “Emmett!” Fire exploded inside of me as my orgasm detonated. My hips seized against his hands—rocking with the waves that rolled through me. I saw so much black I wondered if it was possible to be conscious of losing consciousness.

  He didn’t stop though. Painfully, he continued to rub over my sex that was vibrating with the shock it had been put through. Tears formed in my eyes before I could find the words to tell him how much it burned. Just when I thought I’d found them, I realized that the burning had become pleasurable again.

  My eyes found his. He’d been waiting for me to come back to him. And he looked like he was about to lose control.

  His arms released me and I sagged, but managed to remain upright.

  He backed up a few steps, “Bend over the side of the couch,” he demanded harshly, nodding to the leather armrest to his right. My body moved; my gaze stayed.

  He stalked into the kitchen, opened and slammed one of the drawers, pulling out a condom in the process. He unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, just as I got to the couch.

  “Over it. Now.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, ripping off his shirt. I laid over the edge, the armrest underneath my hips, my chest sinking into the plush pillow that was propped up against it.

  I heard the wrapper tear. “Touch yourself.” My eyes widened against the pillow. “Or I’ll slap the lovely sight in front of me—and I’m not talking about that pretty ass of yours.” I groaned and arched one side of my hip up, working my hand underneath to my core.

  I listened for his harsh breaths as my fingers swirled, slipping around my sex, my eyes drifting shut again as my pleasure began to build.

  “That’s it. I want you dripping onto my floor.” His voice seemed closer now.

  My hand paused as I felt his presence against the back of my legs that were draped and shaking over the side of the couch, his breath blowing over my quivering sex. Oh, God. His tongue was licking along the length of my finger… my nail… and along my slit, darting inside of me as I moaned, my hand falling away.

  And then I felt him at my entrance for a split second before he tore into me. I screamed at the invasion. It had been so long since… And he was so big… too big… Tears streamed down my face as pleasure and pain mingled in
side of me—just like love and hate.

  He’d done this on purpose. The angle of my hips. Allowing him to plunge to the hilt inside of me. He was making good on his promise. I couldn’t move without hurting—without something tearing or breaking inside of me. I couldn’t breathe without small screams accompanying every exhale.

  And I couldn’t feel anything except him as he rammed into me, sliding all the way into the deepest part that no one had ever touched before.

  He took more than I thought I had. I wanted to give him more.

  Every once in a while, when you catch a wave, you don’t think you are going to make it—that you won’t come out the other side before it crashes on you… over you… and drags you down beneath its surface.

  I didn’t think I was going to make it.

  I was so close.

  He pulled out of me and flipped me over, hooking one of my legs up over his shoulder. I saw the sheen of sweat over his chest and chiseled stomach. I gasped at the size of his arousal, the condom coated with my juices, as it hung heavy in front of him.

  Again, his finger slid along my sex, this time going to his mouth as he sucked them clean. “Mine.”

  I could barely focus on him, my climax right there—just out of my reach, but I answered. “Yours.”

  I made it. Yet I was still drowning.

  I screamed his name from the mountaintops—literally—as he slammed back inside of me as his fingers squeezed my clit. My body shattered. Disintegrated. Dissolved. I was one cell in the turbulent sea of my orgasms that crashed around me. Yes. Orgasms. Plural. One from my clit and one from the head of his cock on my G-spot. My muscles cramped they spasmed so tightly from the sheer inexplicable pleasure that devastated my body.

  One hand on my breast, the other holding my hip steady as he pumped into me two more times before he erupted with a shout. I gasped for air, moaning as I felt his cock pulse inside of me.

  “Fuck, Ally…” he groaned, turning his head to my leg and biting my calf muscle. “Fuck.” He pulled out of me with a curse, walking into the kitchen.

  Adrenaline pumping, I pushed up to see what was wrong. He’d overflowed the condom.

  My legs wobbled when I stood; I was completely exhausted—ravaged—content.

  Tucking himself back in his pants, he looked up at me. He looked up at me like he would take me again if the act wasn’t sure to kill me.

  Emmett walked back over to me with a warm, wet towel. “Perfect.” His mouth took mine as he gently wiped between my legs. Bending down, he wiped the floor underneath me where I’d dripped—just like he’d wanted.

  Heat flushed through my body when I looked over at the window. ‘Mine’ and ‘Yours’ clearly smudged onto the glass, along with a semi-handprint of mine.

  “I’m leaving that.” He walked back into the kitchen to rinse off the cloth.

  “Why?” My voice was so heavy and scratchy. I sounded like a hooker who was trying too hard—except I wasn’t trying.

  “So that you don’t forget.” I shivered. How could I? “There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom. Use it and go upstairs and get in bed.” Still so demanding. “I don’t want you to get cold,” he cleared his throat, “please.”

  Everything about this man was cold and harsh. Except when he touched me.

  I WATCHED THOSE BEAUTIFUL, BLUE eyes of her widen at my tone for a second, softening as I took the hint and added ‘please’. When she turned towards the bath, I finally stopped whatever the fuck I was doing with the damn cloth to catch my fucking breath.

  Christ. This was what I wanted to see every night. That sweet naked ass of hers walking around my house like she owned it.

  Mine.

  Yours.

  Fuck that.

  Hers. I was hers.

  I was hers long before tonight. Long before I fucked her. Long before I touched her. Tasted her. I was hers from the second I wanted every piece of her shattered sunshine.

  Tonight though… I’m surprised I even lasted as long as I did—which was embarrassing as shit. Seeing her against my window, my fingers deep inside of her… Seeing her on my couch, her reddened sex dripping for me… Hottest moment of my life. Which was probably why my dick emptied a liter of cum into the condom. Never had that problem before. And not only that, but I was ready to go again.

  “Ally.” She’d come out of the bathroom, heading towards the couch and her pile of clothes. “If you think about touching any of your clothes, I will burn them, too. Here. Tonight. That is how you are staying.”

  And that fucking blush of hers, the way it touched every inch of her skin. My fingers itched—jealous of anything that touched any inch of her.

  She turned and paused. “Who’s that?”

  I swore silently. The one fucking photo that I had. Of course, she’d notice it first.

  “Is that you?” she pressed.

  “When I was younger,” I answered gruffly as my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Who…”

  “Miriam.” I stepped closer to her.

  “This is the only photo you have in here?” I nodded. “She looks like a very special lady to have in your life.”

  “She is. But she’s not in my life.”

  “Is she…?”

  “No.” Not yet… “I stopped talking to her… seeing her… a long time ago.”

  Confusion marred her beautiful features. I hated this. Fuck. I hated seeing my life bring any sort of shadow into hers. This is why I should have left her alone. But I couldn’t.

  “What did she do to you?” Her hand came up to my cheek.

  I gripped her wrist—hard. “Nothing.” I pulled her palm over my mouth and bit into the pad of her thumb. “I ruined her. I ruined her life.”

  She waited for an explanation that wasn’t coming.

  “And I’ll ruin you, too,” I said painfully.

  The fire crackled next to us in the silence.

  Her lush body pressed against mine as she stood on tiptoe in front of my face.

  “Not if I ruin you first.” Her lips brushed the promise onto mine.

  I sighed. “Go get in bed, sunshine. It’s late.”

  “You… you aren’t going to leave are you?” Jesus Christ.

  I groaned, my hand sinking into the flesh of her ass. “No. God, no.” My forehead fell onto hers. “I just need a few minutes.”

  “Are you ok?”

  “No,” I laughed. “I need a minute because my dick wants to fuck you again—probably until you bleed. So, go get in bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  As soon as she disappeared into the loft, I pulled out a new bottle of Jameson and sat on the couch. Staring at the words on the window, I drank—drank and thought about the woman upstairs in my bed, waiting for me.

  I kept telling myself that I was going to destroy her just like I’d destroyed Miriam—taking, always taking, until she had nothing left. I tried to show Ally that, I tried to make her see the depths of the darkness in me, but somehow, she still managed to find more light to shine on me.

  I might not be able to give her a lot of things, but there was one thing I could give her—one thing that I knew she wanted and one thing that I was damn good at giving. And she was going to get the very best that I had. At least then, if she was consumed with the pleasure I gave her body, it might dampen the pain I’d cause her heart.

  She slept soundly. Not even a twitch when I came up the stairs to the loft or when I took off the rest of my clothes and climbed under the covers next to her. Downstairs, my thoughts were nauseating with the speed at which they turned. As soon as I lay next to her, there was only one thing on my mind: the f-word.

  Miriam had dragged me to church with her every Sunday—one more thing I foolishly hated her for—until I came here and during all those years, not once did I pray. Tonight, for the first time in over ten years, I spoke to God.

  I vaguely remembered the stories from the Bible—of David and Paul—the men who had been disreputable assholes by every measure, an
d yet, God had somehow turned them around for the good.

  Lord, just let her be my miracle. Let her change my world… change me. I don’t deserve her, but I’ll fucking move mountains to try to. Because I want this. With her.

  Forever

  I groaned. I must be dreaming because it wasn’t morning yet. Soft, warm limbs tangled over me. Lips tasted my collarbone. I was hard well before delicate fingers gripped my length. My eyes pried open.

  Ally.

  Was I dreaming? Was I drunk? Was I both? Her lips were on mine and the answers didn’t matter anymore. She was so sweet; it was like drinking pure sunshine.

  I tugged her against me before my hand found her breast, thumbing her nipple.

  It wasn’t a dream, but she was.

  “These tits…” I rasped. “I always dream of these fucking tits.” My cock jumped impatiently as she groaned into my mouth.

  I rolled on top of her. She was so soft under every hard inch of me. My hand pushed her breast up and my mouth seized her nipple. I bit and sucked the taut peak while my hand slid further down to find her wet and waiting. I loved how she arched against me, always begging for more. I fingered her, knowing just how to bring her right to the edge.

  There would be a day, a time, when I would spend hours at her breasts, but it wasn’t now.

  I groaned, rolling back off of her to grab another condom. She followed me, though, planting her knees on either side of my thighs, fisting me again while I tore open the package.

  “Put it on.” I held it to her.

  She pulled out the extra-thin layer of protection and rolled it torturously down the length of my pulsing cock.

  “Put me inside of you,” I instructed hoarsely.

  She scooted up, rising onto her knees. I felt my head brush her entrance before I slid inside. I wanted to take her hips and rip into her, but I was too intoxicated watching her head tip back in pleasure as her body consumed mine.

  She sank slowly, knowing it taunted me to watch my dick disappear inch by inch into her pussy until she’d finally taken all of me.