A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1)

by Hallie Swanson

  “Oh, Snow,” I whimper, only imagining what he has in stall for me. “Ouch!”

  I jump away from the cabinet; my ass is stinging, and as my head shoots round I see he’s smacking a white plastic ruler against the palm of his hand.

  “I did tell you not to keep me waiting. Now I’m going to punish you, big time.”

  I look at his playful smirk and the way his dark eyes stare into mine. He flexes the ruler back into an arch.

  “Now get that sexy ass of yours over to my desk.”

  “Put that down first,” I tell him, “and I might do as you ask.”

  He drops it, and it clatters on the wooden floor. I straighten my dress and saunter over to his desk; he follows. I push my hands against his chest, keeping him at arm’s length; again my dress lifts as I raise my left leg, placing my stockinged foot on the seat of his swivel chair. His eyes drop to my crotch as I turn the chair one way and then the other with the ball of my foot, teasing him as I open and close my legs.

  He leans forward, reaching for my silk stocking tops, which he carefully unclips with his fingers whilst moistening his lips with his tongue. I keep my leg on the chair and feel his fingertips brush across my skin as he spans my thigh with his broad hands. I ruffle his hair, dragging dark strands away from his temple as slowly, very slowly he begins to roll the sheer taupe stocking down the length of my leg. He pauses at my black stilettos and then grabs at the heel; I teeter on the edge of the chair, grasping his shoulder as he rips the shoe from my foot. I watch my stocking as it floats gracefully to the floor. I tense, though it’s pleasurable, as he places a kiss on each of my toes before sucking them softly into his mouth.

  He gets up from his crouched position. He doesn’t have to say a word; it’s automatic that I lower my foot to the floor and lift and replace it with my other leg. Lowering my eyelids, I tingle inside, heating up as I wait for the same pleasure to begin over. Stocking free, he slips his hands under the cheeks of my ass. I press myself into him as his lifts me from the chair and pushes me into a door, which opens and then closes behind us.

  I blink into darkness.

  “The conference room,” he whispers.

  My body tilts slightly as he balances me with one hand, then flicks a switch on the wall at our side. Spotlights shine down like the brightest of catseyes, watching us make our way towards a vast tinted glass table. Resting my head back into the crook of Snow’s arm, my hair catches and pulls as I count the chairs set out to my right, ten in all.

  Moving his hand up my spine, he lowers me onto the cool glass beneath; shocked by its sudden chill, I shiver and hold my breath.

  “One moment,” he says, and he’s gone.

  I relax slightly. I’m tempted to get up, but he’s back and his broad figure is leaning over me.

  “I know you, Darcy,” he says, pressing his warm lips into the nape of my neck.

  I raise my shoulder, holding his face as he talks.

  “I know how you feel when I lower myself into your most intimate parts; I know and love the way that you taste when my tongue explores you. I know each single thing that you like, and when I perform them, I know the way that you feel.” He tilts his head on one side. “But what I like most of all is how you try to supress your squeals by burying your face into the pillow when you’re on the verge of orgasm.”

  I follow his hand as he reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small bottle in the shape of an hourglass.

  “Snow, not again.”

  He laughs. “You’re okay, it’s not lube.”

  I chuckle.

  He then lets his jacket fall from his shoulders, and unbuttons and pulls open his white cotton shirt. He says no more, so I watch intently as he unscrews the lid. He tilts the bottle, allowing a clear liquid to pour into his palms, which he rubs together and then begins massaging his fingers between my toes. Coated in oil, his touch glides effortlessly across my skin, which heats up and tingles. I gasp seductively as his hand slides its way around my ankle.

  While massaging my legs, he forces them apart and begins to kiss the inside of my thighs, which he also covers with oil. Lowering himself onto me, his muscular torso slides against my hips until his lips rest softly upon my groin. I arch myself up into him as he rips my panties to the side, and I quiver as his tongue starts to explore. His head makes its way to my waist; he rests his chin against my navel, staring up into my eyes. He pulls me up by my arms so that I’m sitting up straight on the edge of the table. He holds me so close that I can feel his hardening shape pressing into me through his trousers. I feel my way down to his black leather belt; my fingers fumble, though I manage to unbuckle it.

  His lips are on mine, his tongue forcing my teeth apart. Blindly I undo his button and lower his zip; slipping inside his boxers, my hand is filled with him. Resting his hand over mine, he takes himself from me. I squeal as the warm oil trickles between my legs. He thrusts himself inside me, and our hips rock back and forth as he pushes me away and then forces himself back inside me. God, I’m so turned on as his breathy groans fall into my ear. I clench my inner walls around him, constricting the broad head of his cock. He grabs each side of my dress, and pulling it up he throws my arms above my head, exposing my breasts. He growls as he lowers me back onto the cold table, and I giggle as he loops the silky material around my wrists, tying them tightly. He reaches for the oil, massaging it between his hands; I breathe in its sweet lavender scent as he coats it over my hardening nipples and rounded breasts. Does he press more firmly against my skin, or am I just more sensitive? For it feels far hotter than before, and my skin tingles and burns as his touch sweeps across me.

  “Darcy…”

  I look up. Beads of sweat glisten on his brow as he grabs the back of my neck. I squeal as he pushes himself harder and deeper.

  The slam of a door.

  “Bollocks!” Snow hollers, pulling out of me, the crotch of my panties sliding back into place.

  He bends down and throws me his jacket, though his aim is way off and it lands over my face; I pull it down to cover my breasts.

  “What the fuck?”

  I close my eyes, blocking out my embarrassment as a man’s voice thunders and I hear high-pitched giggling. Whoever he is, he has female company.

  “Francesca, take my keys and wait in the car.”

  I hear heels walking across the wooden floor, then the door opening and the catch clicking to.

  “Fucking hell, Snow, put some clothes on!”

  I’m lying here half naked, exposed to a stranger. God, how I want the table to open and swallow me up.

  “Rayne, let me explain…”

  Rayne! Please not him! Can this really get any worse?

  “I don’t think you need to,” he continues. “She’s explanation enough. So you’re using my office to bring your whores back to! I’ve got a board meeting arranged for Monday morning, nine o’clock sharp, so I suggest when you finish you wipe your muck off my table.”

  A whore? I sniff as my eyes tear up. That’s probably the worst insult anyone could have given me. Feeling utterly disgusted with myself, I shudder. He’s turned a night of fun into my worst nightmare.

  “Okay, Rayne, you’ve caught me out, now fuck off and let me finish off here. I’ll ring you in the morning.”

  I hear footsteps make their way towards me.

  “That’s close enough. Go on, Rayne, be a good boy and run along.”

  “What the fuck have you done to the girl? Is it a fetish of yours to beat up women?”

  “You what?” Snow quizzes.

  My eyes shoot open, and dropping my arms over Snow’s jacket I sit up. Rayne’s mouth falls open and his eyes seem to narrow.

  “Darcy!” he shouts, then his eyes return to Snow, who stands just as I imagined he would, naked, with both hands cupping his manhood.

  I barely have a chance to blink before Rayne’s fist smashes into the side of Snow’s face; his head reels back, and I watch as Rayne catches him again, thi
s time punching under his chin. Losing his balance, Snow grabs the back of a chair to steady himself.

  “What the fuck!” he hollers.

  Bending down, he grabs his trousers, hurriedly pulling them on.

  “Believe me, it’s been a long time coming,” Rayne spits.

  Snow fastens the buckle of his trousers.

  “What say we leave our past and personal shit out of this!”

  Rayne laughs.

  “What say I bring up the past? How about I get personal?”

  Snow’s eyes flash towards me, quickly returning to Rayne.

  “Summer and our past were secrets we were meant to take to the grave.” His voice sounds sheepish and he doesn’t stand quite as tall.

  My eyes lower, and I think back to how I probed and probed until finally Snow opened up to me, telling me everything about Summer’s death. Why couldn’t I just let it go? Why couldn’t I have left well alone? I can see the animosity between them and my stomach lurches as I’m hit by a pang of guilt. It feels like I’ve imposed on their family grief, and this is the result.

  “Well, our secrets aren’t going to the grave, are they? You just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut. You had to take Darcy to the house where we grew up, and you had to tell her. And again, you have the nerve to bring up my sister’s name.” Rayne runs his fingers along his jaw line. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of Summer, let’s talk about a different kind of summer, the summer of 2005.”

  “You’re not doing that… Fuck’s sake, Rayne.”

  I jump as Snow slams his hand down on the table.

  “I’ve been good to you, and aside from that, you gave me your word!”

  “You may have babysat a couple of the hotels,” Rayne claps, “well done you, but this is getting far too personal now, and it’s about time she knew the truth. Like it or not, I’m going to tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” I demand, my eyes flitting from Rayne to Snow, and back to Rayne.

  Rayne smiles as he steps towards me, while I anticipate what he has to say. He opens his mouth to speak, though his face contorts as Snow launches forward, grabbing him around the neck. God knows how hard he squeezes, as Rayne’s face goes from pale to an unsightly blood-red.

  I fight with my dress, unravelling it as quickly as I can from my wrists. I don’t know where I get the courage, but holding onto both Snow’s jacket and my dignity I leap from the table and force my way between the feuding pair. I feel Rayne’s muscular arms wrap themselves around me.

  “And, Snow, don’t think for one minute that I’m not aware of the sort of person you’ve become,” Rayne shouts, and I’m almost deafened as his bellowing voice rings in my ears. “I’m telling you, you won’t ever lay another finger on her!”

  I feel Rayne’s arms tighten, enclosing me within them. He moves back from Snow, taking me with him.

  “It was no secret,” Snow snaps. “You knew I was fucking her, so what’s the big deal?”

  “Fucking her yes, I knew, but knocking her about? That’s where I step in.”

  “Stop it, the pair of you!” I yell. “Rayne, he hasn’t touched me!”

  I trip on my heels as Rayne spins me round to face him.

  His eyes drop. “You never were a good liar.”

  I frown. “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t get that colour from just shagging.”

  He rips Snow’s jacket away from my chest.

  “Now go on, Snow, look at her, look at what you’ve done.”

  “How dare you!” I yell, throwing my arms around my breasts. “Oh my God!”

  I lift my hand, clasping my mouth. From my chest down to my toes my whole body is a mass of red blotches, as though I’ve been scalded. It’s not painful, but just tingles.

  “What the fuck do you think I am? I haven’t done that.”

  I can see the concern on Snow’s face as his eyes scan over me.

  “I want an explanation now, or I’m calling the police.”

  I stare at Snow, who stares back at me but says nothing.

  “Not good enough.”

  Rayne clamps his fingers around my wrist, and delving into the pocket of his jeans he pulls out his phone.

  “Fuck’s sake, look at her Rayne, look closer. Can you see hand marks? Can you see bruises?”

  “Well, marks like that don’t just appear from nowhere. If you didn’t cause them, how did they get there?”

  While they argue between themselves, I glance down at my chest and frown; it looks more like hives. My fingers slip as I press them against my skin, which feels overly hot.

  “Shut up, the pair of you!” I shout, silencing them immediately. “It’s the oil; I must be allergic to the oil.” I lift my arm. “Rayne, look at me, it’s a rash.”

  “A rash,” Snow repeats. “I believe you owe me an apology.”

  Rayne loosens my wrist and I step away.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  “Whatever, I don’t care. Can we just forget tonight?”

  I feel Snow’s hand as it slips into mine.

  “If the hotels mean so much to you, you can have them, along with all the money and responsibility that goes with them.”

  Rayne raises his eyebrows. “Fucking hell, am I hearing right?” He squares up to us. “What’s in it for you?”

  Snow pulls my hand so that I fall against him.

  “Her, just her,” he said, tilting his head and winking at me. “She’s what’s in it for me.”

  Rayne clears his throat. “I think she needs antihistamine. You can tell Chase to fuck off, I’ll be waiting downstairs in the car.”

  The door slams.

  “Cut the bullshit, Snow, what’s going on?”

  He straightens up, rubbing his fingers over his bruised face.

  “I’m not sticking round here to listen to Rayne and his shit. Tomorrow sort your passport and pack a bag, because we’re flying out to Mexico.”

  “But my job…”

  “Fuck your job, you won’t be needing it.”

  “Snow…”

  “Get dressed.”

  A cool gin and tonic fizzes in my hand, which I spill as I slide open the patio door. With one foot still in my room and the other on the balcony, I pause, staring down at her. I can’t actually believe I managed to get Darcy here; she’s never stepped foot off English soil before and now here she is, stretched out on my sun lounger in a figure-hugging tankini, with the afternoon sun beating down on her face. I smile at her innocence; God, are we going to have some fun. There’s so much of life she’s missing out on, so much she hasn’t seen and so much we can explore.

  “Snow, is that you?” she murmurs.

  I’m holding my dick in my hand, so I think it’s best I don’t answer and best she doesn’t see. Us men like to think we don’t have sex on the brain 24/7; bollocks, I think to myself. I rub my hand up and down my shaft, feeling it harden. I frown. Thinking about it, I’ve only had the odd kiss off her since we arrived, but I guess she’s not used to travelling, and with her complaining of jet lag for the past three days, I haven’t had a look-in. I’ve quite surprised myself, as I haven’t even attempted to touch her. I’ve been the perfect gentleman, not once trying to get my leg over.

  I wipe the sweat from my brow; with this intense heat and her sexy body walking itself around my suite, I’m as horny as fuck. I glance down at my tanned chest, tensing my abs, which glisten in the sun from the baby oil I’ve just applied. Man, if this doesn’t get her going, I don’t know what will. I pull the waistband of my shorts further away from stomach; I guess this is what blue balls feels like.

  I can control my dick to a degree, but I can’t control my wandering eyes, and barely dressed, she looks so fit. She really is different to any woman I’ve ever known.

  Her long dark hair lies fanned out on the sunbed behind her; it looks as though it hasn’t seen a brush all day and her face is make-up free, but she doesn’t seem to care about the odd blemish on her cheeks,
and she looks so natural. She’s not vain or plastic like Vanessa; God, that woman loved herself, and wherever we went, she wanted eyes on her. Talk about high maintenance; in the months I was seeing her, she cost me a small fortune.

  Not once have I seen Darcy posing in front of a mirror or taking pictures of herself to post online. Unlike Vanessa, she doesn’t parade around the hotel complex in next to nothing; Darcy insists on wearing a tankini and black sarong, saying she hates her thighs and looks fat, but God knows what mirror she’s been looking through, because I can’t see it. The only reason I stayed with Vanessa for as long as I did was because she was good at giving head. As for experience in the bedroom, she far outshone Darcy, but I have plenty of time, and my intention is to break her in gently and get her up to par. I laugh to myself, because thinking about it, I don’t give a fuck what she’s like in the bedroom, it really doesn’t matter; what I do like is the fact that she’s untouched by anyone’s hands but mine. I let out a sigh of contentment; all I want now is her, all of her.

  Placing the drink on the floor, I edge my way onto the end of her sunbed. Acknowledging my presence, she bends her knees, and with slightly more room I shuffle along the padded cushion towards her. Leaning down on my elbow, I stroke my finger up her tanned calf, then slowly work my way down from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Her eyes flicker and open, and she squints up at me, shielding them from the sun with her forearm.

  “That’s high enough,” she says, slapping my hand away.

  I thought she was joking, but I don’t see her smile or hear her laugh.