Snowburn

by E J Frost

for me. The restraints catch her and she tugs

  against them.

  I smooth my hand up over her arm. Her

  skin’s nice and warm now. “These still

  okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I rise off her. Withdraw

  carefully. I want to penetrate her again, over

  and over, just like before, but not in this

  position. I turn her over, careful that the ties

  on her wrists don’t tighten so much that they

  cut off her circulation. Stretch her under me.

  “No, not from behind,” she protests.

  “No?” I push her down on the bed, lift

  her hips a little so I can guide my cock into

  her. I press her legs together, position my

  knees on either side of her hips, and push

  slowly between her thighs. The friction is

  unbelievable.

  “No. Snow, please!”

  “No? You seemed to like it like this in

  the alley. You weren’t faking, were you,

  Kezra?”

  “No.” She rubs her forehead across the

  pillow, twists her arms against the restraints.

  “No, but . . .”

  “Shh.” I know why she doesn’t want it in

  this position, and I don’t want her to be self-

  conscious with me, but it feels too good to

  stop. I shape her ass with my hands. Her

  skin’s so smooth, so soft. I watch the dark,

  ridged pole of my shaft disappear between

  those pale cheeks. “Beautiful.”

  “No,” she moans. But she’s not saying the

  safe word. She’s not really telling me to

  stop.

  I roll my hips against her, push deeper

  still, then pull all the way back out. Take the

  little monster in hand and rub the head up and

  down her wet entrance. In this position her

  labia are pressed together, slick and plump. I

  push between them, penetrating her with a

  groan of pleasure, then pull back out to rub

  against her again.

  “Ohh,” she moans.

  Yeah, I thought I could get her to forget

  her scars if I put my mind to it.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to,” I whisper to

  her. Push between her lips and drive half-

  way in. Grip that soft ass. Pump my hips to

  push deeper. She shudders under me.

  “No, don’t stop,” she says. I grin into the

  darkness. Lick my lips in anticipation of the

  climax I can feel beginning to build. Her ass

  rises into my hands. Gives me a rhythm to

  follow as I fuck her.

  “You sure?” I tease her with my words

  and my hands as I spread her cheeks with my

  palms, rub my thumb over the little pucker of

  flesh between her cheeks. She bucks up off

  the bed.

  “Yes,” she gasps.

  “Kitten.” I let her hear in my voice how

  pleased I am. With the pleasure she’s giving

  me and letting me give to her. With her trust

  as she lets me take her the way I want. I run

  my hands up her sides, avoiding her lower

  back, and smooth my palms across her

  shoulders. Lean over to kiss the back of her

  neck. Stretch across her and enclose her

  body with mine as I rock in and out of her,

  still following the rhythm of that tight,

  pulsing pressure around my cock. “That’s my

  kitten. Can you come for me again?” I slide

  my hand under her hip, cup her mons. She

  rocks into my palm. I can feel the tug of my

  own thrusts. Feel the swollen nub of her clit

  against my middle finger. I give it a gentle

  rub, wait for her response. Sometimes a

  second orgasm can be too much. I don’t want

  anything we do now to hurt.

  “Yes,” she breathes, rubbing her face in

  the pillow. Hands tugging at the tie. “Yes yes

  yes yes yes yes.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I lift

  her hips a little with my hand, position her

  under me exactly the way I want. I rub her

  clit as I find a new rhythm. Faster than

  before. This rhythm is the beat of her heart,

  my heart. A hard, urgent thudding.

  Accelerating as I get more and more aroused.

  She stays right with me, bucking back into

  each thrust, her hands splayed against the

  headboard for leverage. The bed shakes

  under us as I pound into her. It feels so good,

  sooooo good. The red haze is rising, not

  anger this time but consummate pleasure. I

  let it take me. Drown my senses. Flood

  through me as the little death takes me, fires

  through me. I spread my hand between her

  shoulders, hold her down as I ram myself

  into her those last few times, come locked

  deep inside her and distantly feel the spasms

  of her second orgasm.

  I hold myself above her. Let the

  aftershocks pulse through me. It still feels

  better than good. I don’t want to disengage. I

  keep thrusting gently, only semi-hard now but

  her wetness and heat keep the little monster

  going. This is better than any feeling I can

  remember. For a moment, just a moment,

  everything feels right. Despite everything

  I’ve seen and everything I’ve done, the

  universe seems like a fine and just place.

  Fucking transcendent.

  But beauty doesn’t last. Never has. Never

  will. Maybe that’s what makes it beautiful.

  As the feeling begins to fade, I ask, “Kez, are

  you okay?”

  She nods. Sighs. It’s a sweet sound, that

  sigh. Soft and contented. I lean over her, rest

  my forehead against her temple.

  “Nice?” she whispers.

  “Yeah.” I kiss her temple. “D’you need

  me to stop?”

  “Maybe, it’s stinging a little.”

  Not surprising, given how long we’ve

  been going at it. I withdraw from her gently,

  use my robe to wipe us off and tuck it

  between her legs so she’s not lying in a wet

  spot. Stretch out next to her. Run my hand

  over her soft head. I like the texture of her

  dreadlocks. “Kitten.”

  She smiles. Looks at me over the curve of

  her arm. “Are you going to untie me, or just

  leave me like this until you want to fuck

  again?”

  Wiseass. “Tempting,” I say. And it is. I

  like having her tied to my bed almost as

  much as I liked fucking her. But after stroking

  her a little more, I untie her. She rolls onto

  her side, so she’s facing me, and pulls up the

  thermoblanket to cover her back. Still self-

  conscious about the scar, even after what we

  just did. I tuck the thermoblanket around her.

  “Don’t get chilled.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, and even if I

  couldn’t see her grin in the dark, I could hear

  it. “Did you learn all that in the Marines?”

  “Yeah, we were all about fucking each

  other.”

  She giggles. “Wherever you learned it, I

  like it.”

  I reach out and stroke her dreadlocks
,

  gradually gather her to me. “This is an

  important part of the treatment,” I tell her as I

  get her settled against me, her face tucked

  into my neck, her breasts pressed against my

  chest. I capture her thigh between mine. Lock

  her as tight to my body as I can.

  “I didn’t realize cuddling was prescribed

  for shock,” she murmurs.

  “It should be.” This could cure any ill.

  “How’re you feelin’ now?”

  “Oh, you know, at one with the universe.”

  The grin’s still in her voice. I grin back, even

  though she probably can’t see it in the dark. I

  know exactly how she feels. “What about

  you?” she asks. “You did all the work.”

  “You’re up next time.” But I doubt I’ll let

  her. I like being in control. Even with

  hookers, I usually go on top. Being ridden

  has never done much for me. Too passive to

  excite the little monster. I kiss her gently,

  touch the tip of my tongue to her lower lip.

  “This okay?”

  She winds her arms around my neck. “I’ll

  endure it somehow.”

  “Endure this.” I run my hands up her

  sides, find the sensitive spots on her ribs and

  tickle her until she’s breathless and

  squealing.

  “Dead puppies!” she pants.

  “That only works during sex. Try again.”

  “Um, shocky kittens! I don’t know!

  Seriously, I can’t breathe!”

  “If you can talk, you can breathe.” But I

  stop tickling her and draw her close again.

  Flinch as she breathes up into my face. Her

  breath is worse than sour. “Fuck, we need

  some more rules.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Cause, tiger breath. Rule one is, no

  breathing on me.”

  “Oh, God.” She claps her hand over her

  mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles behind

  her hand. Then she pushes at my shoulder.

  “Let me up. I’ll clean my teeth.”

  “Don’t think so. There’s somethin’ very

  sexy about your stink. You stay in bed.”

  “Hale!”

  I freeze. “What’d you say?”

  She buries her face in my neck. Hunches

  in on herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was

  going to ask.”

  “Ask what?” I growl.

  “If I could call you by your real name

  when we’re alone.”

  I take a deep breath. Let it out. She

  wasn’t calling in the law. Sending me back

  to slam. I pull her closer, although I keep her

  head downwind. “He’s dead. Let him stay

  that way. Why d’you want to use that name

  anyhow?”

  She strokes my shoulder. Nuzzles into me

  like she’s trying to climb inside my skin. “It

  feels real to me. As soon as you said it, I

  knew it was your real name. I want . . . I

  want to be real with you.”

  “This is real.” More real than anything

  since Mouse’s death. Every woman between

  then and now has been feverish fantasy or

  expensive illusion. “That name’s too

  dangerous. If you slip up in public—”

  “I won’t! I swear. I’m good at keeping

  secrets. Really good. I’ll never make a

  mistake. And if I do, you can punish me. Any

  way you want.”

  Now that is too tempting. “Any way I

  want, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Problem is, if she slips up, I’m the one

  who’ll pay. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Please. Please? Trust me. Please trust

  me. I won’t ever use it when you don’t want

  me to.”

  I run my hand over her head. Sweep her

  dreadlocks out over the pillow. Fist my hand

  in them. “What do I get in return?”

  “Anything.”

  She promises it too easily, too readily.

  But she said the same thing on the Marie,

  when I asked her to do something for me. She

  agreed before she even knew what it was.

  I’ve never known anyone who would do that

  for me. Not Mouse. Not Marin. No one.

  “How’s this? Every time you call me by my

  real name, I get somethin’ back. Maybe it’s

  tellin’ me something you’ve never told

  anyone else. Maybe it’s a fuck in the ass,” I

  say it as roughly as I can, so she understands

  the risk she’s taking. “Maybe it’s fetching me

  noodles on your hands and knees. Be sure

  you’re ready to pay the price.”

  She looks up at me, eyes huge. I should

  have remembered that this is what she wants,

  this is what she was attracted to, this element

  of danger. “I’m ready. I’ll pay it.” She kisses

  my chin. “I’ll pay it. And I’ve never done it

  that way, but if you want to, I’ll do it.”

  Fucking fearless kitten. “It’d hurt you.”

  I’m too big for her there, particularly if she’s

  never done it before.

  “Nothing hurts with you.”

  “No?” I smooth out her dreadlocks.

  Stroke my hand down her back and cup the

  ass-cheek I reddened last night. “What about

  this? Didn’t it sting?”

  “In a good way. I could feel it for a

  while, especially when I sat down, but it’s

  gone now.” She wiggles her ass against my

  hand. “You could, uh, do it again . . .” She

  lifts her face to me hopefully, blasts me again

  with that rancid tiger breath.

  “Fuck me.” I bat away the worst of the

  stink. “You sure you didn’t eat any of those

  rats?”

  She colors all the way up her neck to her

  ears, her flush visible even in the dark, and

  presses the back of her hand over her mouth.

  “Let me up!”

  “When I get tired of you. Roll over,

  stinky.” I help her turn over and pull her back

  to my chest. Snug her ass against my groin.

  Bury my face in her hair, which still smells

  of soap, but also of stale sweat and human

  grease. I take a deep breath, entranced by her

  scents. Too often, women cover their natural

  odors with harsh, artificial scents. Nothing

  chokes the little monster faster than the stink

  of fake flowers. A woman should smell just

  like this: sweaty and musky and salty with

  come. I may never let her bathe.

  “Hale,” she says softly. Dragging out the

  ‘a’. Her cheek rounds in a smile. “I really

  need to pee.”

  “Good sign.”

  “That I need to pee?”

  “Yeah. You’re processin’ fluids.” I trace

  the curve of her ear. Tickle the fine blonde

  hairs that arc around it. Wonder how soon I

  can fuck her again. “Up you get.”

  She props herself up on her elbow, then

  slowly sits up. I bet her head’s spinning. I

  rub my hand up her back to steady her,

  remember too late about her scar, and feel

  her flinch. “Sorry, kitten.”

  She shakes her head. “You ca
n see it,

  can’t you? You can see in the dark.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could you – could you close your eyes?

  And turn the lights on? I can’t see anything.”

  “Sure.” I reach up and tap the lights on.

  Close my eyes and let her have her dignity.

  When I hear the ‘fresher door snick shut

  behind her, I open my eyes and climb out of

  the bed. It stinks of sex. I pull the sheets off

  and shove them in the wall valet along with

  the robe I used to wipe us up. I leave the bed

  rumpled, pillows askew. A visual reminder

  of what we’ve done, and what we’re going

  to do again as soon as we can both manage it

  without pain. Well, without too much pain.

  She definitely likes a little nasty with her

  nice.

  I’m still grinning from that last thought,

  pulling on a pair of soft black trousers, when

  she emerges from the ‘fresher. She’s

  wrapped a towel around herself. Like I don’t

  remember what she looks like naked. She

  smiles shyly at me. “I thought I might get

  dressed. Get us some noodles.”

  “Sounds good.” Noodles could be

  followed by the massage she owes me. And

  that could be followed by more sex. If it’s

  dark by then, we could even do it out on the

  deck. I’ve got a hammock out there that I’ve

  slept in a couple of times. Sex in the

  hammock could be all kinds of fun, as long

  as I wrap her up in some blankets.

  That reminds me to check the

  thermoblanket. As I’m lifting the little

  control rod that hangs off one edge, she picks

  up her shirt off the floor, and the room erupts

  with light.

  “What the hell?” She picks up the

  strobing bangle. Clicks together the touch

  screen. Taps the flashing image of her

  brother.

  “Where the fuck are you?!” Ape shouts.

  Kez glances at me, her brow furrowed. I

  shrug. He knew where we were going. She

  looks back down at the screen. “I’m at

  Snow’s. What’s wrong?”

  “Nev! Remember her?!”

  “Of course I do. What’s wrong? Haven’t

  you given her her meds? Snow said you had

  our gear.” Her eyes lift to me and I nod. He

  definitely took their bags out of the taxi.

  “He took your fucking backpack!”

  “No.” A terrible expression twists her

  face. I’m not sure how to read it. Fear

  maybe. I’ve seen her angry, but not fearful.

  “No no no. Where is she?”

  “Gone! Where the fuck do you think?!

  She’d already been without all night—”

  “I left Gig with three doses! It should