Snowed In

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  “I love when you look at me like you’re going to jump me the first chance you get.”

  She didn’t need any more invitation to kiss him, deep and hard. He tasted amazing, rich and masculine. She wanted this. She wanted him. So deeply it felt like a need. For an instant she wanted to run from the feeling. She didn’t need anyone. She took care of herself.

  But she couldn’t let the fear be in control. She couldn’t let the pain of the past keep her anchored there. She had to sail away from it, and she’d never be safer than here, with Scott. Since he didn’t move his legs, she broke the kiss and stepped back.

  He fisted the T-shirt in his hand and tugged her closer.

  “Maybe I should keep you on the edge all day.” She’d never make it. The snow insulated them from reality. This time together concentrated their connection, creating a closeness that would take months in the real world. She climbed onto his lap, wrapping her legs behind his back, the smooth stones of the hearth warm beneath her bare feet.

  “You think you could?” He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it behind her.

  “Have you forgotten yesterday?” She traced the muscles of his shoulders and down his arms, taking his hands in hers. She wanted to seem confident, sexy, in control. But with Scott she struggled to pull her mind out of the game to think about how she looked or plan what to do next. Being with him felt natural; the anxiety, awkwardness, and judgment that always kept her from asking for what she wanted had taken a vacation. Though the last two nights gave her hope, she was shaking by the time she brought his hands to her bare breasts.

  “I’ll never forget.” He rubbed his thumbs over her hard nipples, but he kept their gazes locked, as if he could see her thoughts.

  Everything with Scott had an intimacy to it, a sense of togetherness they hadn’t earned and wouldn’t last. But here and now, she wrapped herself up in the security of it, and let the uncertainties go, if only for a little while.

  “Are you going to let me up?” His sexy baritone warmed her more than the fire behind him.

  “You’re already up.” She didn’t fumble with the buttons this time, or worry about her fingers on his cock. “Let’s play how many times can Scott get it up in a day.”

  “We should play that when I come to Portland with a giant box of condoms.”

  “I won’t make fun of your Smurf dick, I promise. I’ve been thinking you’re too big for a Smurf dick. It’s more like the genie, coming to grant me three orgasms so he can be free.” She wrapped her legs tighter, her nether lips parting and giving his hard cock the perfect place to be. She settled herself and realized that sitting this way she could rock her hips and slide her clit along his shaft.

  “Enjoying yourself?” His eyes smiled, but his jaw clenched.

  “Oh, I am.” This gave the perfect amount of pressure, it would hardly take any time for her to get off this way.

  “This makes me want to fuck you.”

  “So do it.” She found the perfect rhythm. When he started to press her nipples between his fingers she let her head fall forward. Staying with Scott certainly had its perks.

  He pressed the side of his head against hers and whispered in her ear, “I want to fuck you long and slow.”

  “Yes, please.” She closed her eyes and relaxed into the sensations.

  “You’re getting my dick wet.”

  She could only hum in response. The orgasm built, her movements against his cock no longer fluid. His hot kiss worked the muscles of her neck. He released her breasts and grabbed her hips, grinding his hard cock against her pussy. She tried to lift her hips a bit, wanting him inside her when she came. The only thing better than a Scott-made orgasm was when he filled her up, pressing the pleasure deeper into her.

  The fire had grown hotter, her shin stinging from being so close. She shifted a bit and hummed her approval, pleasure building with each movement they made together. With one arm around Scott’s neck and the other behind his back, she held on as he kept sliding his cock against her tight bundle of nerves. Almost painful in the intensity of the contact, but she didn’t want to end it. Never wanted to end it.

  He released her hips and leaned back slightly. He pulled his fingers down to her wet pussy, then dipped them inside, his long fingers curling. Like he rubbed her clit from the inside. Her legs quivered around him and she gripped his forearm.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathed, hoping he never would. She could live her whole life on this kind of orgasmic high. She might die from it, but what a way to go.

  The low rumble of his laugh vibrated through her. “Are you dreaming again, love?”

  She hoped not, but couldn’t answer as another orgasm gripped her, tensing her entire body and then releasing in slow waves, her body shuddering against his. She tasted the tangy salt of his skin before she even realized she’d bitten into his shoulder to keep from screaming.

  She sank into the pleasure of it, barely noticing he’d slid his hand between them. His movements started slow, and then picked up pace until she leaned back to watch. He wrapped his big hand over his thick cock and she wanted him to drive it into her. Only he didn’t, he kept up the slide of his fist from base to tip, squeezing the head of his cock on every stroke.

  The sight mesmerized her and she licked her lips, wishing she could bring him the kind of pleasure he brought her. Still drunk on her own orgasm, with her legs spread around his and her pussy open, she fantasized about what he might do. Was he going to pick her up and slam his cock into her as he came? Would he lay her onto the floor and ride her until she came again?

  His strokes became faster, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring. She wanted his orgasm as much as she’d craved her own only moments ago. She ran her hands up his hard jean-covered thighs and wished he’d taken them off. With tentative fingers she slipped between the open fly and his dark hair. She didn’t want to get in his way, but she wanted to touch him, feel him in her hand. The buttons of his fly pressed against her wrist as she cupped him, his balls tight against his body. He wasn’t far off. She reached a bit farther, to that spot just behind. When he groaned and let his head fall back she knew she’d found it. A way to pleasure him deeper, the way he’d done for her.

  His free hand gripped her forearm, keeping her in place. As if she’d stop now. His shoulders shook as he pumped his cock, harder and faster. Her wetness had been so slick on him, but now he needed more. Last night she’d protested when he’d spit on her, but now she saw the point of it. It wasn’t dirty, just the fastest form of lubrication. She let her saliva fall on the tip of his cock, his dick getting slicker with each pass of his hand.

  She caught his soft green gaze, but couldn’t hold it. This was supposed to be fun, just sex, but looking into his eyes when they were intimate made it feel like more. He never touched her like this was a game. He made love to her with more than just his body. With him, it was for keeps. And her heart wanted it to be, but her head knew better.

  She timed her strokes with his until she saw his abs tense, his breath catch. He called out her name and a stream of his come shot toward her, landing between her breasts. It dripped as he added another stripe, and then a third. She slid her hand out of his jeans and then up his body. She didn’t want to lose the connection yet, not while they were both still vibrating from their orgasms.

  Her nipple tickled as one of the lines of his come slipped down her breast. She wiped off the bit touching her nipple, but left the rest, studying it as she brought her finger to her lips to taste the briny tang of him.

  Scott cursed as he reached for her, his big hands splaying over her chest. He rubbed his seed into her skin like lotion. Naughty, but oh so right. Especially when he turned his attention to her nipples.

  “Scott, you’re getting me going again.” She didn’t want to stop him, but she didn’t want to let things go too far. At least not until they were back to his comfortable bed.

  “I think that’s the point of the how-many-times-can-Scott-get-it-up game.”
/>
  “But we do need coffee. And a shower. And food.”

  “You shouldn’t shower. Just wear me all day.”

  She shook her head. “I probably smell like dick.”

  “My dick.”

  She swatted his hands away. “Yes, well, I doubt you want to be licking your dick all day.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Could you stop thinking with your cock for one minute?”

  “Not today. In fact I was thinking that we should go to bed and you could use your wicked tongue on my cock while I eat your pussy. Because I’m hungry.”

  Her skin grew hot and her lips parted as the picture he painted formed in her mind. “I taste like dick, probably everywhere I want your mouth.”

  “And you care.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I only care about you being naked and willing.” He licked his lips and she wanted to do the same.

  “Fine. I don’t need to shower, but I want to. My hair is a wreck and I want to feel clean.”

  “You feel dirty?”

  “I am dirty. I’ve survived a sex marathon with you last night and then got to experience your special skin treatment. I’m smelly dirty, not sexy dirty. Well, both I guess.”

  His lips quirked in a grin. “You smell fine.”

  “You don’t. You smell like you were rode hard and put up wet.”

  “Well, I was. So I’ll join you in that shower.”

  “Deal.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Can we be awkward for a second?”

  “It’s what we do best.”

  “It’s about how I weirded out last night about spitting. I get it now. You don’t mean it porny, it’s practical, so I’m okay with it.”

  “Porny? For all your dirty talk, you’re such a good girl.”

  “Hardly. I just like it to be nice and I thought you might be taking it somewhere else.”

  He titled his head to the side, his gaze softening. “You don’t like getting fucked.”

  She did a double blink. “I’m sorry, if I haven’t convinced you how much I like it, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

  He shook his head, a smile curling his lips. “It’s like what you said about your work. You like to be appreciated. To be made love to. With you, it’s a whole-body, soul-shattering experience. I bet you’ll always make love like it’s the first time.”

  The heat of a blush heated her more than the fire. “I’m hardly virginal.”

  “Every time with you is new, different.”

  “That’s because we’ve only been at this a few days, and the condom situation calls for creativity.”

  “You’ll see what I mean. Not today, but in a few months.”

  “Let’s just focus on now.” Because in a few months the distance would keep them apart physically and emotionally.

  “I see how you are. You want me to go out in the snow and fire up the generator so you can have your shower. You have a one-track mind.” He helped her off his lap, and then to stand. Which suddenly made her aware she was naked in the middle of the living room. She hadn’t felt naked with him, but as soon as they separated bare vulnerability choked her. He buttoned his jeans and then grabbed the shirt she’d been wearing from the floor. He pulled it on and she wanted to protest, but it was his. “You should stay like that all day.”

  “Naked?”

  “Yes, please.” The words sounded so different when he said them, a naughty intonation in his deep voice.

  “Not happening.” She grabbed the blanket off the back of the closest couch and wrapped it around her. The thick wool scratched at her skin.

  “I said please.” He gave her puppy-dog eyes and an exaggerated pout.

  She shook her head. “You’re going to have me wet all day, and you don’t want that on your furniture.”

  “But I do, I really do.” He spoke each word lower than the last.

  His desire for her was a tangible thing, decadent and addicting. “I’d rather you work for it, at least a little bit.”

  He shrugged and then walked toward the door. “I suppose you’d have to get dressed anyway before we head out.”

  “Where are we going?” If the highway reopened today, she had no more excuse to stay. She wanted to spend the time they had left in their intimate little bubble, drinking him in before she headed back to reality.

  “I thought we’d take the snowmobiles out and go on a condom scavenger hunt.” He sat on the bench and pulled on his boots.

  “To a store?” Where there might be Wi-Fi or clean underwear or a flat iron or—

  “No, just the neighbors.”

  Her eyes widened. Oh, hell no. “You don’t borrow condoms like a cup of sugar. I would die of embarrassment.”

  “That’s actually how guys do it. Besides, Darby isn’t at her cabin.”

  “You’re going to ask a woman for condoms?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. She preferred the anonymity of the city where you could pick up condoms twenty-four-seven along with a bottle of wine and dark chocolate. Sure the clerk would know what you had planned, but they wouldn’t remember.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Only if I ever meet her, she’ll be thinking, So this is the one you needed the condoms with.”

  He had the nerve to laugh. “Probably.”

  “I’m a prude, remember?”

  “Hardly.”

  A cold shower didn’t sound so bad after all. “I don’t want people to know I got all slutty with you.”

  “Well, you’re not, so you’re in the clear.”

  “Please don’t do it.” She started to walk toward him, but the blanket began to slip. Ever since she agreed to stay with Scott, her life had turned into a sitcom.

  “Fine, I won’t ask. But if she’s not home, I’ll find them.” He had the nerve to wink before he slipped out the door.

  11

  Marissa curled beneath the blankets of his bed like a little bean. She’d drifted off after the most athletic shower of his life, and he let her sleep. He’d managed to make the trip over to Darby’s and back before she woke, which was good because he wondered the whole time if she’d be worried enough to go outside looking for him. The snow had stopped, but the freeze overnight put an icy crust on everything, making it more dangerous than before.

  He peeled back the blanket just enough to see her freshly scrubbed face. With her light eyelashes and no makeup to hide the freckles, she appeared to be just as she was when he’d met her. Young and sweet and excited for what life had to offer. He’d been in his fourth year when she came to campus, enthusiastic for her future. He hadn’t even known Chris had a girlfriend until she’d walked with him into class that September. Over the next few years, Scott had warred with being both enthralled by her and disgusted by his friend.

  Too often he’d tried to tell her the truth about Chris, but he’d backed out every damned time. Chris was the star player for the university, so doing anything to make a rift in the team would have come down on him, not the kid who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Telling Marissa wouldn’t have been much better. Chris would have denied it and she would have hated him for the mere accusation. He would have lost her completely, and he’d rather be her friend than nothing to her at all.

  Not that those choices had helped him after her non-wedding fiasco. Catching Chris in bed with some girl the morning of her wedding had unleashed all sense of self-preservation. He’d rather ruin her wedding than let being married to someone like Chris ruin her life. They’d fought, and if Matt hadn’t pulled them apart it wouldn’t have stopped until one of them was unconscious.

  He’d gone to the church, ready to tell Marissa the truth. But by the time he’d made it to the bridal suite, Chris had already called. The phone was in her hand and she stared blankly through the mirror. Her purple-wrapped bridesmaids swirled about the room, one of them telling him he shouldn’t be there. As soon as he started to reply Marissa’s gaze had latched on to his in the mirror. She started shaking, her jaw
at first and then her shoulders, and before he could even take a step she closed her eyes and let out the most sorrowful cry he’d ever heard. The pain of it still haunted him, as if her heart had truly ruptured. She’d fallen to the floor and everyone had rushed to her. And in that moment he knew what a horrible, selfish mistake he’d made.

  She wouldn’t have broken if he’d put her heart ahead of his. He should have told her, and even if his warning hadn’t prevented their wedding, the truth wouldn’t have come as such a shock. She wouldn’t have been blindsided. Because in the end, she’d hated him for it anyway.

  He’d seen her the next day, when he and Matt had delivered a box of her things. She’d glared daggers at him, so enraged he’d wondered if Chris had blamed him somehow.

  He undressed and slid into bed next to her, pulling her close. His feelings for her back then didn’t hold a torch to this. That had been a whisper of what they could be. He couldn’t let it slip away again. He knew better than to get attached to a woman who’d been completely upfront about leaving. But he’d gone and done it anyway.

  She only wanted now, and he wanted more. But they had never been that simple. He couldn’t smooth the jagged edges of her past, but that didn’t mean he would let their future be sliced away by someone else’s mistakes.

  “It’s your move.” Marissa leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed her legs as she assessed the chessboard, planning her next attack. The pieces were fashioned from nuts and bolts, a set Scott had made himself in middle school.

  “You’re the chattiest person I’ve ever played chess with.” Scott slid his rook aside, offering up his pawn. He sat backward on his chair, resting his forearms atop the seatback.

  “You’re the one who wanted to make it strip chess. Don’t get grumpy just because you’re losing.” He’d been fully dressed and she had him down to boxer briefs. It wouldn’t be long now. She didn’t take the bait of his pawn, focusing instead on the only thing that mattered. Checkmate.

  “Honey, I’m not losing. I’m strategizing. And if you hadn’t noticed, we’re both down to our last article of clothing.” He opened up his bishop this time.