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“And yours,” I reminded her.
“Sure, but you’re the one with the oceanfront property.”
We were talking, but the words had ceased to matter. It was all about the emotion, now. The spark, the heat, the burn that couldn’t be put out, even in these blizzard-like conditions. I’d been trying to get time alone with her for weeks, and now here we were. Snow entombed us from the outside world. The only noise was that of the wind whipping around the contours of the house and the fire crackling in the hearth. We could be as loud as we wanted, as free as we wanted, because there was no one to catch us. Not out here.
As if she were thinking along the same lines, Willow began fiddling with the half button of my sweater, her slim fingers deftly unknotching it. Then she rose on tiptoes and pressed her lips to the hollow of my throat. Though the rest of her was cold, her mouth burned against my skin, spreading licks of fire throughout my body. She was wearing a loose sweater with a long-sleeved shirt underneath. I curled my fingers around the bottom hem of both and tugged them over her head as one.
“Cold,” she whispered, standing there in just a black satin bra that made her breasts look like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. As my cock grew harder, I slid my hand into one cup, taking her breast in my palm and marveling at how soft and smooth it was. Her breath came faster, and goosebumps spread up and down her arms that had nothing to do with the cold. With my free hand, I worked the button of her jeans open and found that she was wearing matching black panties. I pushed her jeans down to her ankles and helped her step out of them. I kept expecting her to tell me it was my turn, but she didn’t. It was painfully erotic the way she was letting me strip her clothing away piece by piece until she was standing in front of me, completely naked. Completely mine.
In front of the fireplace, I pulled her back against me and held her from behind, rubbing my hands over every inch of her body, competing with the roaring flames to warm her up. Her skin was going from ghostly pale to pink and gold, and her breath was coming faster. She let her head fall back against my shoulder, and one arm came up to curl sinuously around the back of my neck. It made her tits stand higher, the peaks of her nipples pointing stiffly up. I couldn’t help pinching them, rolling them between my thumb and forefinger until she gasped, and I felt her knees weaken.
Still, she made no demands, letting me set the pace, letting me do whatever I pleased. Aroused to the point of pain, I finally allowed myself to strip off my own clothes. Naked, my cock jutted hard against the curve of her waist. She reached back and wrapped her small hand around its girth, just holding it for a moment before she began sliding her hand gently up and down its length.
I tightened my grip on her as waves of pleasure built at the base and radiated throughout my entire body, short-circuiting my brain. I let her work it for as long as I could handle before roughly turning her around and capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Something was happening between us that I didn’t understand, that had never happened to me before. We didn’t need words–we were connected on another level. I pushed my hand between her legs and began pumping my fingers into her hot, wet opening. Two fingers, then three. She was so tight that the slippery walls gripped my fingers like a vise, but she was moving against my hand. Opening herself up. Her face was pressed into my shoulder now, her breath coming unevenly. I could tell that even though I’d just begun to touch her, she was close. I flicked her clit and worked her to her first orgasm easily, smugly satisfied by the choked cry she couldn’t quite muffle in my shoulder when her body spasmed around my hand.
Willow was boneless now, so I let her slide down to the rug. “Stay on your knees,” I ordered when she started to lay back. Her gray green eyes met mine, dazed with satiety, and she complied.
I dropped down to mine, too, glad the rug was thicker than it looked, and lined myself up behind her. She’d never been taken from behind before, so even though she was soaking wet, I slid in slowly, gently. The angle was almost too tight, but then the head of my cock popped through and the rest of my shaft slid in. Willow gasped, wriggling forward at first, then slowly easing back on it, letting me fill her.
“Does it feel good, baby?” I demanded, knowing the answer but wanting to her hear say it.
She nodded so vehemently her hair tossed. She was beyond words, but as I began sliding in and out, her moans told me everything I needed to hear. I went slowly at first, gently, but as she began pushing back against my cock with equal enthusiasm, I let myself off the leash. I wrapped an arm around her waist so she couldn’t pull away and began plunging all the way in. The hot, velvety vise of her pussy squeezed my cock to the point of near pain, but it was exquisite torture. I would have happily died here in Callum O’Conner’s guest house in the middle of a fucking blizzard before I stopped.
She came again, and I considered switching her to her back so I could see her beautiful face as I pounded her to the finale, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I filled my hands with her breasts instead and drove myself into her. Willow was making a gasping, mewling sound now, and I knew she was close to a third climax.
With timing that would make any director proud, I held off my release until I felt hers. Only when I heard the choking cry escape from her throat, the dissolution of her bones, did I let myself follow. The orgasm ripped through me as fiercely as the wind was ripping through the trees outside. I could hear it in my blood, my bones, my muscles as I collapsed beside her, barely getting up enough energy to draw her back against me.
We laid there for a long time, hearts pounding, sweat drying on our skin, breathing ragged. I wanted to say something about how it had never been like that before, but it all sounded trite in my head. Like a line.
Finally, it was Willow who spoke. She looked over her shoulder at me, her hair gloriously disheveled, her cheeks pink, and said, “Well, that’s one way to get warm.”
“Give me a few minutes,” I promised. “I’ll show you another way.”
21
WILLOW
The storm raged outside, throwing snow drifts higher and higher against the windows. “We’ll never be able to leave,” I said, pressing my forehead against the cold glass and feeling the chill all the way through my body.
Julian came up behind me and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, then wrapped his arms around my waist to hold it in place. I leaned back against him, feeling his voice rumble in his throat as he murmured, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
It didn’t sound so bad to me either. The two of us in our own little world–except the real world was still out there, and we didn’t have a way to tell people what was going on. Not that we could have told them the truth anyway.
Julian pulled me away from the window and into the small kitchenette. “Relax, we’re not supposed to be back in town for another three days. Miller knows we’re in Oregon and can connect the dots if we take another day or two to get back. Who else expects to hear from you right away?”
“Camper.”
“I thought Camper was staying with one of your friends.”
“He is, but he expects me back on Monday.”
Julian rolled his eyes and turned away to figure out the ancient coffee maker. “Who really is expecting you back? The friend watching Camper, and…”
“My other boyfriend.”
Julian shot me a look over his shoulder. “Not funny, Laurier.”
I grinned, then said, “Okay, seriously. My mom is out of town, so she won’t worry, and my friends won’t worry unless it’s more than a couple of days.”
