Page 15 of Snowed In with the Wrong Cowboy

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Her arms go slack for a second, letting the fabric slide free, but her eyes? They're glaring daggers that could cut glass. My hands dive for her sweatpants next, my thumbs brushing the soft skin of her lower belly as I start to shove them down until they catch at her knees.

I spin her by the hips until her back is to me, her chest pressing against the wall. She yelps as she plants her hands to steady herself.

I press in close, letting her feel every inch of how hard she makes me. My free hand slides down her side, over the dip of her waist, landing right over her pussy. She bites off a moan, and her hips twitch forward into the pressure.

“Hate me, huh?” I rub up and down the length of her pussy with my fingers. “You don't seem to hate me when I'm touching you like this. When your cunt's throbbing for it.”

“Idohate you,” she moans.

But she still grinds into my hand.

She can spit fire all she wants, but her body’s telling me a different story. The way her hands clench like she doesn’t know whether to punch me or pull me closer.

And fuck, I want her to do both.

My fingers brush over her clit, teasing the sides of her pussy without mercy. She's bare now, no panties, her arousal coating my fingertips.

“Fuck, Piper,” I groan, nipping at her earlobe, sucking it between my teeth. “Feel that? How wet you are already? Bet if I spread you open right now, you'd beg me to fuck you deep. You hate me so much you’re dripping just thinking about my cock splitting you apart.”

Her hips roll in my hands in needy circles, chasing the tease of my fingers. She's fighting it, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her nails scrape the wall, but her body's winning, hips undulating like she can't help it.

“That's right, darlin',” I say in triumph, dipping my fingers inside her cunt. My thumb finds her clit, rubbing in tandem. “You sure have an interesting definition of hate. Grinding on my hand, soaking my fingers. Your cunt's telling the truth. Clenching so tight, like it wants to keep me inside forever.”

“I hate you,” she gasps, the words fracturing on a moan as her hips buck harder, fucking herself on my fingers now. “I hate you...”

Her voice trails off into a whine as her head drops forward against the wall. I tangle my free hand in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her throat. I lean in, sucking a mark that'll bruise by morning.

“I'm not done with you yet. You're stuck in my cabin, remember? So here's what's gonna happen.” I pump my fingers harder until she's trembling around me. “You're gonna bend over when I want, spread those pretty thighs and let me fuck you where I want. Against this wall, on the floor, bent over the tableuntil you can't walk straight. I’m gonna fill this tight little cunt with my come until it's leaking me for days. And you'll take it, won't you? Because deep down, under all that hate, you crave it.”

She shatters, hips bucking as her body convulses around my fingers. A broken sound tears from her throat, but I don’t stop. I drive my fingers deeper, harder, dragging every last tremor out of her.

“Fuck,” she cries out.

I spin her to face me, grabbing her jaw.

“Good girl. I like having your come all over my fingers. But I’m still not done with you.”

Then I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her in a kiss that’s full of heat and punishment.

She bats at my chest with her hands and then rakes her nails down my neck, drawing a hiss from me. I retaliate by hoisting her up by the hips and slinging her over my shoulder. I carry her to the bedroom and toss her onto the bed, her body squirming in protest.

I pin her down with my weight. “You want to hate me? Fine. Hate me while I fuck you.”

She writhes beneath me, trying to twist free. I grab the front of her sweatshirt and drag it upward, peeling it over her arms and tugging it past her face. The fabric bunches over her eyes like a blindfold, blocking her view, but not the sharp little gasp she lets out when I lean in close.

I pin her arms to her sides with my hands and lower my mouth to her chest. My lips close around one nipple, sucking hard, then teasing with a flick of my tongue. She moans, her legs thrashing, hips grinding upward.

I pull back, and she stills, the sweatshirt still over her eyes. I shrug off my coat and sweatshirt, letting them hit the floor, then tug off my sweatpants and boots. Her head shifts slightly,like she’s straining to see through the fabric, tracking my movements.

I peel her sweatpants the rest of the way down along with her boots. She squeezes her thighs shut in a defiant clench, but I wrench them apart, spreading her wide. I kneel between her legs, nudging my cock against her entrance, dragging the tip through her folds, up over her clit, and back down.

“Fuck, please, just do it,” she begs.

I thrust into her and she arches with a cry.

“I hate you,” she hisses, but her hips roll to meet mine, her body still telling a different story.

“I think you love it,” I growl, gripping her hips as I set a punishing rhythm.