“This is just a quick thing between adults,” Frost says, his pupils dilated, his cock obviously erect underneath his black jeans. I swallow hard as his smell overwhelms me, the sweet and musky scent of sage and pine. Oh, holy lord. He smells like the Balsam Fir incense my dad always special orders in bulk from the Vermont Country Store.
I love that fucking smell.
It's a part of my goddamn identity.
“Purely a biological need being fulfilled,” I say, huffing out my breath and reaching up to gather my brunette hair so I can pull it over my shoulders. “Like … when you're hungry and you eat a sandwich …”
“Shut the fuck up,” Frost says, but before I can protest, he's scooping my face up in his hands and pulling my mouth to his. He crushes our lips together, tossing aside all the typical niceties of a romantic encounter and going straight for the sex.
Works for me.
We aren't going to see each other ever again after today, so what's the harm? I wasn't kidding about that sandwich thing either. If I'm thirsty, I get a drink of water. If I'm horny, I … screw a random rockstar on his tour bus.
Frost puts his hands under my ass and lifts me up onto the countertop, stepping between my thighs and pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against my white leggings. He grinds against me as we kiss, moving his hips in a way that tells me this is going to be good.
Beyond good.
Phenomenal.
Our kiss breaks apart and he pauses for a moment, his eyes half-lidded, his breath feathering across my wet lips.
“You're a much better kisser than you are a stalker,” he says, and I grab him by the waistband, dragging him even closer.
“Let's hope you're a better lover than your rude and unintelligent commentary implies,” I say, ripping his jeans open and sending the button flying across the room. Oops. Whatever. He's rich, right? He can just go out and buy some more three hundred dollar jeans.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” he mutters, shoving his pants down over his ass, revealing a pair of way-too-tight black briefs. But, oh, the way they cup his family jewels? Beautiful. My star-covered hand slides down the flatness of his t-shirt, feeling his hard muscles begging for skin to skin contact underneath. I cup his junk with my hand and massage it, groaning so loudly that Frost reaches up his own tattooed hand and clamps it right over my mouth. “Shh,” he purrs, “screwing random girls is Vale's thing, not mine. I don't want this getting out.”
I flick my tongue against his palm and this time, he groans.
“Shit,” Frost murmurs, pulling open the drawer next to my left leg and digging around inside it. He comes up with a condom and tears it open with his teeth, slowly dropping his hand away from my mouth.
“You're not supposed to use your teeth,” I start, but he just rolls his gorgeous green eyes and clamps his hand right over my mouth again. Normally, that move would just piss me off, but … no, no, it does piss me off, but I'm totally feeling this whole hate-fuck thing we have going on right now.
Frost holds the condom package between his lips for a moment, uses his left hand to shove his underwear over his cock, and lets it spring free between us.
Oh.
Wow.
Definitely a sight more impressive than the dudes from the bookstore.
“Mm,” I murmur against his palm, leaning my head back against the mirror, my eyes heavy and half-lidded. I'm so enjoying myself right now. And I'd thought my car battery dying at the rest stop was a bad sign for how the holidays were going to go?
This is a much better way to start my vacation.
Well … my permanent vacation …
My heart twists and clenches in my chest, but I shove away the bad feelings for later. Now's not the time. No, now is not the right moment to let myself get wrapped up in things that I can't change.
Frost uses his left hand to free the condom from the package, letting the wrapper full to the floor and then deftly sliding it down the perfectly straight length of his cock. It's quite the pretty penis, if I do say so myself.
“Still into this?” Frost asks, panting a little, like he's going to go fucking crazy if I say no. Good. Because I'm feeling the same damn way. I make him wait in agony for my answer as he yanks my boots off and then peels both my panties and my leggings down, tossing them aside and onto the—thankfully—closed seat of the toilet.
I nod and he groans so loud that I put my hand over his mouth.
He doesn't seem to mind, using his left hand to guide himself to the hot wetness between my folds. My sex is swollen and desperate, wanting the hard length of him buried inside me now. Thankfully, he doesn't disappoint.
Frost positions the head of his shaft against my heated core, meets my eyes … and then drives his hips hard into me.
We both groan so fucking loudly, it's obvious even with each other's hands clamped over our mouths that we're in here and up to no good.
I slap my left hand against the wall and hit the fan. The sound helps but … but then it doesn't matter because I'm throwing my arms around Frost's neck and burying my face into the sage and pine scent of his neck.
After releasing my mouth, Frost takes me by the hips, digs his fingertips hard into my flesh and drives himself into me with a frenzy that mimics our angry back and forth in the living room.
Wiggling my body, I adjust myself just right—because I have a point to prove in here.
Three minutes, huh?
I wrap my legs around his ass and position my body so that each forceful movement of his hips rubs my clit just right. I bite this man's sexy, muscular neck lightly, my teeth pressing into his skin. I know he likes it because his entire body shudders with pleasure against me, his grip tightening even more, fingertips digging into my ass.
Frost slams our bodies together against the vanity, my orgasm starting in my clit and reaching white-hot fingers of pleasure up through my belly and into my breasts.
“Grab my tits,” I groan and Frost rushes to comply, shoving his hand up under my shirt and squeezing me hard through the lace of my bra. He pauses a moment to move my tank top out of the way, finding my white push-up bra with the glittery gold stars all over it.
And oh.
He looks excited about it.
Frost tears the lacy cup down and out of his way, dropping his head to my chest and biting down on my nipple—harder even than I bit his neck.
My head falls back against the mirror again as the pleasure completes its circuit from my cunt to my brain. My orgasm hits me so hard that I let out a sharp scream of pleasure, my body locking down around Frost's and freezing him in place. The squeezing of my muscles is so powerful that his body succumbs to the demands of my own, and he comes with a deep, guttural sound, almost a sob.
My pussy flutters like a butterfly, muscles teasing Frost's shaft as he finishes with three hard, final thrusts, his breath panting out like he's just run a marathon. I think I sound the same way, breathy and tired and satisfied.
“Told you,” I whisper in his ear as he lifts his head up and then turns to look at me.
“Told me?” he whispers back, raising a dark eyebrow. A few glorious beads of sweat dot his forehead, and I have the weirdest urge to lick them away. Eww, gross. If he were my lover then … that'd be one thing. But I don't even know this guy. “I just proved I could make you come quick.”
“What?!” I whisper back, feeling my mouth fall open in shock. “No, I was proving that I could make myself orgasm fast—even with a shitty lover.”
“Oh, like that wasn't some of the best sex you've ever had,” Frost scoffs, and I laugh, making him groan as my muscles tighten around his softening cock. But it doesn't feel that soft, like maybe … he could get it up again soon? Wow. Okay, so that is impressive.
“Best sex? That was like two seconds long,” I growl back and he narrows his green eyes on me.
“Good god, woman. First, you challenge me to give you an orgasm and then you complain when I do!”
“I said give me an o
rgasm, not blow your load and end it before it really got good,” I snap back as Frost pulls out of me, slides off the condom and chucks it in the trash. I see then … that he's hard. Well, like half-hard. How is that even possible?!
“You like what you see?” he asks me, leaning back against the glass wall of the shower with a smirk. Even this room is decorated so some of Frost's smooth sexuality is diminished by the bright red and green garlands above his head. Although I do quite like the white Christmas lights filling the room with a warm glow.
“The decorations, no,” I whisper flicking my eyes to the side and then looking back at Frost's cock, the head shiny with his seed. “But that, yeah, I hate to admit it, but I am impressed.”
I slide off the counter and grab my leggings, turning away from the cocky arrogant bastard with his cock hanging out of his pants. If I keep looking … I'll do it all over again. With my eyes downcast, I slip first one leg into my pants and then …
Feel myself get pushed up against the counter—hard.
“Are you sure you're done?” Frost whispers in my ear, smelling like sweat and man and sex. And underneath it, his pine and sage scent still burns. One set of smells is a turn-on, and the other, comforting and soothing. It's a nice mix. A tantalizing mix.
“I …” I start, but let's be honest—one of the most beautiful men on the planet is standing behind me, his hard body pressed up against mine. Lifting my gaze, I meet his eyes in the mirror and I want nothing more than his hard cock between my thighs again.
Aaaaand … I'm on my way to my parents' place. Oh god. I'm going to look like a ruffled sex goddess when I walk in and find my family sipping champagne from tiny flutes and eating designer gingerbread cookies.
I open the same drawer Frost used earlier and pull out another condom, passing it back to him. He watches me in the mirror the entire time, opening the condom slowly and sensually, like it's part of the sex act, too. My boobs … okay, boob is still hanging out of my bra and my cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. Frost looks about the same—minus the boobs, of course. He has rippling pectorals that I feel like I really need to see …
“Take your shirt off,” I tell him and he complies with an annoyingly smug little grin. Fucker. But oh. Oh. It's worth it.
Frost tears his top off and tosses it over the shower door, his chest a tattooed paradise that matches the stories on his arm, a tale of ice and snow, of predators in the white-white of an arctic forest. All of that color blanketed over his muscles … it excites me to the point where I'm wiggling, waiting for him to grab me by the hips and enter me again.
I know I'm not screwing him to banish the bad memories or the pain of … Okay, I can't even bring myself to think about it right now, but … it's making me feel better. The moment is hot and immediate, a burst of physical pleasure to brighten up the shit week I've had.
Frost moves up close enough that his cock is teasing between my butt cheeks, using my natural lube to slide around and ignite every nerve ending between my legs.
“Mm,” I murmur, biting my lower lip, long brown hair hanging over my shoulders and into the sink. I'm still wearing the white knit beanie my dad sent me, the one with the matching gold star on the brim. But no makeup, messy brows, cracked and dry lips from the cold. I should feel ugly, but right now, with Frost looking at me the way he is, I couldn't possibly let myself go down that route. And like, I know I don't need a fucking dude to validate me, but … it's always nice to see yourself from someone else's perspective.
Frost thinks I'm annoying as shit … but hot as hell.
“Take your other tit out,” he says, and even though his domineering voice rankles me, he did what I asked so I guess I can at least do the same. I reach up with my left hand and free the round, pale curve of my other breast, my pink nipples pebbled and hard.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Frost says, sliding his cock between my folds, stretching my tight body with his thick shaft. He's so much bigger than the guys I've been with recently. And his stamina? He can come as many times as he wants if he can keep getting it up like that.
And I thought his guitar playing was impressive.
Holy shitting snowflakes.
Frost wraps one hand around my hip for balance and leans forward, covering my body with his, so he can fondle my bare breasts. They swing with his motions, the entire show available for me to watch in the mirror.
Christmas lights twinkle around us, the tacky garland catching the light. I guess, looking at them like this, they're not quite so ugly as I first thought.
“Oh, that's good,” I whisper as his balls slap my clit, and his shaft finds the very end of me, taking up all the available space inside my body, completing me. It's that feeling of completion that really gets me, that turns my entire body to flame.
His name might be Frost, but this man … he's hot as hell.
“So you admit it?” he growls into my ear, filling me up and then teasing me by pulling all the way out, leaving me wanting and aching.
“We can be equals,” I say as he shoves forward and fills me up again. A groan escapes my lips and I reach out and smack the faucet, turning the water on for an extra sound barrier. Somewhere outside the door, someone turns on a ridiculously loud rendition of Blue Christmas.
Frosty fucking Christmas fudge.
Someone out there can hear us.
“Equals, puh-lease,” Frost says, screwing me so hard that I'm finding it almost impossible to respond. “I've got you, babe. It's pretty obvious who's the one in charge here.”
Biting my lower lip, I push back into Frost's crotch and squeeze my muscles as hard as I can. All those Kegel exercises are coming in handy … My pussy clamps on Frost's thick, velvety shaft and a wild, ragged groan escapes his lips.
His hand comes out and grabs my hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling.
Our eyes meet in the mirror and our hate-fuck just amps all the way up. I push back into him, squeezing my muscles, and he thrusts his pelvis as hard as he can. Our bodies clash again and again and again …
We fuck through several different Christmas songs—I'm too far-gone to even recognize what they are. Sweat drips down the sides of my face, over the rounded curves of my breasts. My muscles tense, but I refuse to give in. This is a game now, between me and Frost Manderach.
But when he reaches around and puts his fingers to my clit?
All bets are off.
With a violent groan, I curl my fingers around the edges of the counter, my body shuddering as my skin ripples with pleasure, and I come with a wild sound that I'm sure everyone else on the bus can hear.
When the white-hot stars fade from my vision and I can actually see Frost's expression in the mirror, I can tell I'm the only one who just climaxed.
“Truce?” he whispers, voice ragged.
Our eyes meet in the mirror again, and it takes me three separate tries to swallow past the lump in my throat to answer him.
“Truce.”
CHAPTER THREE
The rest of the ride to my parents' house is slow-going, the wind picking up speed, gusting against the metal side of the tour bus with violent, wild howls. The snow is thick and heavy with snowflakes half the size of my fucking hand. The whole world looks white, just one endless plain of powder, the whole world asleep beneath its blanket.
My body feels wired and I'm having a really hard time sitting still—especially with Frost's eyes flicking my way every few minutes.
God.
Not much longer, I tell myself, a second mug of cocoa clutched in my hands. Both times, Crispin made it for me. He's really too fucking cute. And yet you wasted your have-fun-with-rockstars-free-fuck on the jerk of the group?
Now that Aspen's eyes are feeling better and he's sitting up, he doesn't seem quite as rude as I'd originally thought.
“Have any Christmas plans?” he asks, his sapphire eyes pretty, even with the white parts still red from the pepper spray. He's a little teary, but he looks better.
“Me?” I reply wi
th a small chuckle. “Oh Lord, yes. Heaps. My dad is a holiday fanatic, and he's very particular about the way it goes down. You won't see any … uh …” I clear my throat and rephrase what I was about to say. Looking around at the ceramic reindeer, glued to the countertops with hot glue, the plastic wreath on the bathroom door, and the multi-colored Christmas blankets on all the bunks, I figure somebody in the band likes this kitschy style. Calling it tacky like my dad does … probably not the best idea. “He likes classic Christmas,” I say, trying to figure out the best way to describe my dad's decorating style. “White and gold, a lot of glitter, designer decorations, holiday work from local artists.”
“And your mom?” Aspen asks, sniffling and touching a wad of tissues to his still-running nose. Poor guy. I mean, it was an accident that I ended up spraying him in the face, and it was sort of his fault for crawling under the stall, but … The sex with Frost had calmed me down quite a bit.
I glance over at him, meet his eyes, and find myself swallowing hard.
He looks away first and crosses his arms over his chest, like he doesn't give a fuck. But even from here, I can see his pulse thundering in his throat like a live thing.
“She's a busy lawyer,” I say, waving my hand dismissively in his direction, trying not to let my hormone addled body notice how gorgeous he is with his thick head of rich brown hair, dyed with a green and red stripe on one side—part of that charity thing again—but his expression interestingly severe. “She could give a crap less about decorating and holidays although she does like all the schmoozing and connection making that goes on at my dad's infamous parties.”
“Sounds fun,” Frost grumbles dryly, tapping tattooed fingers on his equally inked bicep.
“Yeah, uh, we watch the Saint Paul Christmas Concert every year. I mean, it's on during my dad's party anyway. So … as thanks for the ride, I'll take a break from the spiked eggnog to watch you guys perform.” I make myself smile, but all I can really think about is how I can't wait to get off this fucking bus and into my childhood bedroom.
I need a minute to process that ridiculously sexy rendezvous with Frost, a nice hot—or in this case, maybe cold—shower. Change of clothes. Moment to brace myself for the onslaught of … shudder … family.
Billionaires, Boarders, and Bastards: A Limited-Time Collection of Reverse Harem Romance Novellas Page 3
