Let it Snow

by Suzan Butler, Emily Ryan-Davis, Cari Quinn, Vivienne Westlake, Sadie Haller, Holley Trent

  He rubbed her hair some more and loosened it from its ponytail. “Think about your happiness for a change. You do everything you can to stave off bad shit happening, but you’re doing it at the expense of your present wellbeing. That’s not a fair trade-off. You deserve to feel good at the end of most days, even if life isn’t perfect.”

  “Do you feel good at the end of most days? Doing what you do, I mean.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He twined a length of her shiny, brown-black hair around his fingers studied the shift in sheen as he moved his hand. His own hair had bluer tones, darker than both his parents’. Genetics was sometimes a crapshoot that way. “I love my job. Yeah, there are some days that all kinds of fucked up, but I can’t imagine doing anything else for a living. It’s fulfilling and makes me feel useful.”

  “Even though it might kill you.”

  Seemed as good time as any to remind her. “G, the chances of me getting killed on the job aren’t any different than the typical cop or even a soldier’s deployed overseas.”

  She stiffened. Had he found one of her buttons?

  “You’re not a typical cop, though,” she whispered.

  “I am in some ways. Sometimes I get put on shitty beats, just like everyone else who works in law enforcement.”

  She rolled over and pushed up onto her forearms. “Who do you work for? I keep asking. You never tell me. I’m starting to think you can’t.”

  Oh, he could. He’d just chosen not to because he didn’t think it’d assuage her panic any. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe if he told her the letters, she could put it all in context and compartmentalize the way she needed to. “I work for ATF.”

  He could practically see the gears moving in her head at the mention of the letters.

  “That’s alcohol, tobacco…”

  “Firearms and explosives. Yeah.” He laughed, but there was no cheer in it. “If you study weird shit in college, you get recruited by unexpected agencies. Truth be told, G, I spend most of my time behind a desk nowadays. I haven’t been undercover for a while and don’t anticipate that changing anytime soon.”

  “You get picked to work undercover a lot?”

  He shook his head. “No. If I think I can help, I volunteer.”

  She tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed her arms before she could move away. That was her natural response. Run when she didn’t like what was said. He wasn’t going to let her do it this time.

  “I don’t have a death wish, G, so don’t even think it.”

  “Then tell me what it is, because it sure seems that way to me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I take calculated risks just like any other cop.” He tried to settle her back against his lap, but she wouldn’t budge. He sighed. “Sometimes the odds aren’t in my favor, but probability says it’s unlikely I’ll ever get shot or seriously injured again.”

  “I trust probability about as far as I can throw it.”

  He pulled her again, and this time she relented. He’d never been able to direct her so easily when it came to matters of the heart. Sex? Yeah, there was some pushback there, but she conceded to his wishes for the most part. Played along because she trusted him then. But how could he extend that bubble of trust to cover all circumstances?”

  With her head on his lap once more, he resumed stroking her hair. He’d asked her to just pretend everything would be okay, so the least he could do was help her feel like it. He didn’t have to get her all worked up. He could be gentle.

  “Hey. Did you know Kate Gerrish got fired this spring?

  Her jaw twitched against his thigh, and then a smile pulled her lips.

  There we go.

  “Finally. Cranky old hag. What happened? Did she finally humiliate the wrong student and get the hammer of Hell brought down on her for it?” She sucked her teeth. “God, I always hated her. She had it out for me.”

  He chuckled. He could say it wasn’t true and that their old ninth grade English teacher was just set in her ways, but he did think she had it out for Giselle. Him as well. He never got higher than a C on anything he turned in. She always found something to knock off points for. His handwriting. A wrinkle in his loose-leaf paper. Something. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I’m sure she’d had a lot of complaints racked up over the years, but the camel’s back has to break eventually. From what I heard through the alumni grapevine, she insinuated that one of the new board members’ kids wasn’t intelligent enough for college.”

  “She said the same shit about me, though.”

  “And I didn’t believe that was true, either, but in this case, the board member had a lot more clout to throw around than your mother did, and she saw to it that old Katey got forced out.”

  “Mama couldn’t raise as much hell as she wanted because I was a scholarship kid. They would have pulled it and told me how I should have been grateful for the opportunity.” She scoffed. “I probably would have been better off in public school.”

  “If you’d been in public school, we wouldn’t have met.”

  “Like I said, I probably would have been better off in public school.”

  “Cute.” Chuckling, he rolled her off his lap and moved to the edge of the bed. “So, dinner. I think we should do the ball.”

  She draped her forearm over her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath. “Why?”

  “You never let me take you anywhere. It’s always my condo, your apartment, or here at the hotel.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Name one place we’ve been that wasn’t one of those three.”

  She propped herself up onto her forearms and pursed her lips.

  “You can’t, can you?”

  “We went to that jazz festival and ended up fucking behind the stage.”

  “Although that was very nice, that was two years ago. Try again. Something recent.”

  She shook her head. “That’s it. That’s all I can remember.”

  “So humor me. We’ll go to the ball and you’ll pretend to tolerate me as more than your secret fuck-buddy.”

  Her cheek twitched.

  “I’ll even get you a mask if you want one.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “You conceding just like that?”

  “Yeah, because I know the chances of you getting me something to wear in time are slim to none unless you’re going out to buy it yourself.” She settled her back against the pillows and treated him to a devilish grin that made his cock jump. So many times she’d worn that smile just before pulling him between her lips and sucking him so masterfully that he forgot which of them was supposed to be the Dom. She’d always had power over him, though, in subtle ways and larger ones. More than once, he’d wanted to turn his life upside down for her, but reason always won out.

  Sometimes, reason didn’t seem a good enough deterrent.

  “And Max, baby, if you go out, chances are pretty good I won’t be here when you return.”

  He growled. Damn, his girl really knew which buttons to press to keep him on his toes. “Thanks for the reality check, G, but…” He set his knee on the bed and leaned in close to whisper, “You know what happens when you tease me?”

  She picked up the remote control, turned the volume up a few ticks, and clucked her tongue. “Well, let’s see. If we were in your playroom, you’d probably shove your dick into my mouth.”

  “I admit the thought has run through my mind in the pat few minutes. Maybe I should start resorting to those tricks outside of the playroom, too.”

  “Like you did in the stairwell?” She twirled the remote playfully and blinked coquettishly. If she was striving for a look of sweet innocence, she failed miserably. She could probably drive a man to sin with just one lusty sigh.

  “Mm-hmm.” He crawled closer, grabbed the remote, and tossed it onto the nearby chair. “Maybe if I did, it’d knock your autopilot off-kilter and force you to make your actions more intentional.” He grabbed
her hips, pulled her flat onto her back, and quickly straddled her.

  Her eyes narrowed and hands tightened around his thighs, but she didn’t try to move.

  He unfastened his pants and let down the zipper. “I think you need constant supervision, G.”

  She shrugged. “Mr. Beaudelaire might agree.”

  “Then I’m in good company.” He eased up her torso, and pinned her ribs between his knees. Her robe opened at the top with one easy swipe, and her breasts freed from her push-up bra with one tug of the front closure. “Stay just like that,” he said and backed off her.

  Naturally, she sat up and smirked at him.

  He shook his head as he pulled off his boots and stepped out of his restricting pants. She wanted to push him? Fine.

  He wrapped his fist around her hair and pulled her over to the bedside. Her willing mouth opened the moment his cockhead teased her lips.

  “That’s right, make it wet.”

  He didn’t let go of her hair just yet. He liked the look of her on all fours with her delectable breasts hanging down and her eyes rolled up to his as she awaited instruction. It seemed she cut herself any slack when she was having sex. It was the only time she gave herself permission to not be the strong, indestructible goddess she had everyone believing she was. On her knees or on her back, she was vulnerable, and it was her choice to be so.

  He let go of her hair and pushed it back from her face. “That’s enough. Get on your knees for me.”

  She didn’t ask why—just did it. She knelt at the edge of the bed and raised one eyebrow. What next? it asked.

  He cupped the heavy breasts that had distracted him so fucking much when he was a horny fourteen-year-old, and brought them together. Moving closer, his cock grazed her belly, and she bent for him, catching the head in her cleavage as he pressed onward. Even if she was just playing at it, she was the most intuitive submissive he’d ever worked with. He was certain some of that was due to their long acquaintance, but there was also that underlying compatibility she hated admitting so much. He could read her like a book at times, and imagined the reverse was true, too.

  He thrust his hips back and forth, and closed his eyes to savor the warm satin of her skin around his dick and hissed when her tongue swirled against his cockhead at the apex of a thrust. He hadn’t asked for it, but like hell if he was going to punish her for it.

  “More of that,” he said and slowed his strokes to give her extra time to lave his head. “Hold them.” He squeezed her breasts to indicate his wishes, and her hands replaced his. He leaned back to take in the sight of his turgid shaft disappearing into her cleavage and her tongue lapping hungrily at him. He grabbed her shoulders and began fucking her breasts in earnest. She couldn’t keep up the licking and probably felt the strain now in her neck, but it didn’t matter. When his balls began to tighten and insides stirred to life, he pulled his dick free, and quickly flipped her onto her back. He pulled her ass to the edge of the bed, yanked her panties aside by the crotch, damp with her lubrication, and pressed into her into one slick thrust.

  “Oh God,” she whispered.

  He knew the feeling. It’d been so fucking long for him, too.

  She deserved gentle, tender lovemaking, and he promised himself that he’d give it to her soon, but right now, he was struggling to find some control. She’d ceded hers to him, and he’d lost both. He just thrust, faster, harder, desperately until his balls slapped against her ass and she called out. “Max!”

  But he didn’t stop. Knew she wasn’t done, and neither was he. He slipped his thumb inside her panties, and pressed down on her clit.

  Her heels thrashed against his the backs of his thighs and her guttural yell brought a renewed burn to his balls. He loved pleasing his woman. Loved making her fall apart and putting the pieces back together one at a time when they were done. He craved that afterglow, of making her melt and want him more.

  “You’re going to go with me,” he said, swiveling his hips and lifting hers to change his entry angle. “To the ball. You’re going to eat with me. Dance with me. Leave with me. And then I’m going to fuck you again. Maybe downstairs with people watching me get you off. Maybe here in the room where I can take off all your clothes and look at what’s mine.”

  She sank her nails into the meat of his ass, and her mouth opened wide as if to free a scream, but she didn’t seem to have the breath for it. She panted as he increased his speed and tugged her clit in time to the rhythm. He loved having her in this position—playing with that little bud and watching her pussy clench around nothing while he fucked her ass, but he could do that another day. A day when he could savor it and make it last.

  She squeezed her muscles around him tight, and now she did yell. She yelled his name and a fluent stream of curses. “I hate you so fucking much. Why do I have to love you?” she said behind the hands she held over her face.

  He grabbed the base of his shaft and came inside her, panting. “No one made you, G. That’s all on you.”

  Chapter Six

  Giselle hadn’t felt so on edge about a social gathering since she and Max had crashed their senior prom. Technically, they weren’t even supposed to be there because they lost privileges when that battle-ax of an English teacher had assigned them to in-school suspension for the third time in the semester. But, Giselle’s mother had spent a lot of money on that ugly, feathery cocktail dress that was supposedly so in at the time, and Max had had no shame whatsoever.

  Some things never changed.

  He’d made her get dressed as planned, picked her up, and walked her to the country club door. He’d put their tickets down on the table, and the attendant—the very same teacher who’d been supervising their suspension—took them, tucked them into the box, and handed them each a glow stick.

  “What just happened?” she’d asked as Max pulled her into the middle of the dancing crowd.

  “You gotta learn to read people, G,” he’d said. He’d draped his arms over her shoulders and grinded on her so brazenly it was a wonder none of the chaperones had found a hose and sprayed them.

  “I read people just fine.”

  “Sure you do. If that were true, you’d know that the reason Ms. King is so wary of Ms. Gerrish is because she was once was once taught by Ms. Gerrish. And apparently Ms. Gerrish was a pain in the ass back then, too.”

  Giselle had swayed a bit on the dance floor, keeping time to the music, but pondering the workings of her friend’s brain. “Max, that’s not reading people. Nobody would know that unless they went snooping.”

  He’d shrugged, and spun her around to grind on the side of her he obviously liked better. “It’s not snooping. It’s just quieting some curiosity. I asked some questions. The librarian likes to talk.”

  “How would you even know that?”

  “Like I said.” He’d pulled her closer by the waist and she yipped as his hard shaft prodded her rear. “You gotta learn to read people. Some like to talk. You just need to know how to get them started.”

  “Maxwell Fletcher, I need to see some light between the two of you!” a chaperone finally called out.

  Max had sighed and spun Giselle around again. “Party pooper,” he’d murmured.

  “And good thing,” Giselle had muttered back, glancing down at his tented pants.

  “So sue me.” His ensuing grin had been predatory, just like it was now. It was a wonder they hadn’t had sex that night.

  Max pulled Giselle onto his lap at their shared table in the Beaudelaire’s ballroom and pushed her hair over her right shoulder. He put his lips to her left ear and whispered, “See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

  She picked up a breadstick from the nearby basket and turned it over and over, not answering, preferring to watch the masked guests on the dance floor.

  Guests tended to pick and choose which Den of Sin festivities they’d come downstairs for, but the big balls were always well attended. They were so damn decadent, and this was
the first time Giselle had been in one. She’d gone to the door a few times, of course, but she’d never been in the thick in either her staff capacity or as a guest.

  The theme was Winterball Masquerade. Most guests were decked out in all-white ensembles to match the snow-evocative décor. Many wore domino masks. Though what happened at The Den tended to stay there, the masks were an extra layer of protection for some. There may have been politicians, actors, and famous athletes in attendance, and other guests might never know they’d rubbed elbows with them.

  Maybe even fucked them.

  Giselle had delivered room service to quite a few A-listers, but she’d never been the kind of girl to be impressed by fame. Anyone could be famous if the stars aligned the right way.

  She put down the bread and adjusted her own mask. Can barely see.

  “Do you want to dance?” Max asked.

  Giselle watched the dancers. It could hardly be called dancing. Maybe there was a little of that going on, but from where she was sitting, it appeared the guests’ idea of dancing was the same as Max’s. Further, if those women were dressed anything like Giselle was at the moment, they could sheathe a dick between their legs by bending over and shimmying in a particular way.

  And that reminded her…

  She said through clenched teeth, “you managed to find me a dress and shoes, but you couldn’t get me underwear? And what did you do with the ones I had on?”

  He pressed his hands to her thighs and eased the bottom of her dress up a bit, wearing that sit-on-my-face grin all the while.

  When he did that, she really wanted to, although she’d always been the sort who’d rather give than receive. Max seemed to have that effect on her. Eventually, she’d relent and let him have his way.

  “That’s for me to know,” he said. “Besides, what would you need them for?”

  Her pussy clenched at his hands’ proximity. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the tablecloth extended to the floor, and that the people on the other side of their twelve-seater table had their chairs turned to the dance floor, and not to her and Max.