Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
When I was little, I got to see the snow in person once on a family vacation to the mountains. I learned to ski on the bunny slopes with my brother and mom, and got to watch my dad take on some seriously dangerous slopes like he was an Olympian.
It had been so much fun, but as it usually does, life wound up getting in the way of us having that experience again.
But I never knew what a pain in the ass snow was when you’re an adult, living with it.
There’s over six inches of snow outside right now, and I’m out here in Will’s giant snow boots, because I didn’t bring any, and nearly snapping my back in half to help clear the walkways with Asher and Matthew. Will is using the push snow-blower on the driveway and parking lot.
“You don’t have to do this, love,” Asher tells me. But he’s laughing.
I narrow my gaze up at him, straighten my puffball hat, and stick out my tongue before returning to my shoveling.
Eventually, the walkways, driveway, and back parking lot are finally cleared, and Will is using a salt spreader on everything to melt and prevent ice.
By the time we go back inside, my teeth are chattering, and everything about me is wet, in the worst way.
“I’ll make hot cocoa,” Will says as he flies past me to the kitchen before he even removes his coat.
“I’ll take all your outerwear, love. Toss it in the dryer.”
I hand Asher my coat, hat, and gloves, and he disappears into the laundry room.
Matthew’s hands straighten my mussed hair as I turn to him, bury my face in his chest for warmth as he chuckles. “Someone isn’t made for the cold.” His arms wrap around me, warming my shoulders.
“I don’t mind the cold,” I say into his sweater. “It’s the adulting I hate.”
He’s full-on laughing now before guiding me into the kitchen, where the delectable smell of cocoa invades my senses, making me hum with pleasure.
This time, we all mix our cocoa with some of the peanut butter whiskey, and Asher looks surprised when he says, “This is actually really good.”
I gape at him. “What’s not to love about mixing chocolate and peanut butter?”
Warm on the inside, I excuse myself to go take a hot bath and change my clothes, maybe into something fluffy and soft.
Upstairs, I run the hot tub water and rummage through the cabinet for the bubble bath I saw there, which specifically said it was safe for the jets.
It’s blissfully only a few minutes before the tub is ready and I’ve stripped down, piled my hair on top of my head with a few clips, and slid into the hot water with a moan.
I relax into the jets as they do their magic on my cold skin and aching muscles, sinking down into the water until the frothy bubbles touch my bottom lip.
I don’t know how much time has passed when there’s a light rapping on my door, and Matthew’s voice calls my name.
“In the bath,” I call back to him over the humming jets, and he’s at the doorway in a blink, staring at my face above a sea of white bubbles. “Hey.”
He clears his throat, those eyes flicking across the tub, then back to mine. “Hey.”
I blink at him, stifle a smile. “Something you need?”
“You.”
His simple answer sends a rush through me. But I smirk at him. “Can it wait until I’m out of the bath? This has been the best part of my day.”
Matthew’s head tilts before he prowls into the bathroom, grips his sweater, and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the floor.
My breath hitches at the view of his chest, so much more chiseled than it had been years ago, that slight smattering of hair covering his pecs, then cinching at the middle before trailing in a line down to disappear into his jeans.
“I’d like to make it even better,” he says, voice dropping low as he keeps getting closer before passing me and sitting on the ledge behind my head. That’s when his hands dip into the water and grip my shoulders, then begin to rub.
I sigh in utter contentment, his strong hands so much better than the water jets had any chance of being. His fingertips dig into my skin and muscles, those thumbs finding just the right spot at the back of my neck and upper shoulder blades, until my sighs turn into moans or appreciation.
“You have no idea how much I needed this,” I breathe.
“I have some idea,” he replies cheekily.
He’s always been so good at this. Told me once he exercises his hands a lot because of his gaming career, using those resistance bands and stuff. And I’ve never been more thankful for that than right now.
“Iz?”
“Hmm?”
“I want to play a game.”
Those words make my thighs squeeze together, my pussy throb, and I know I’ve spilled slick into the bath water.
Still, my response is automatic, like it always has been. “Name the game.”
“The Queen and the Servant.”
My hips rotate beneath the water, making it slosh, the bubbles moving on the waves.
Our “games” had started after a long night together, playing an online fantasy role-playing game.
Though the game itself had been all magic and bloody battles, we’d both been so turned on after, he showed up at my apartment, and we continued our own version of the game in my bedroom. All. Night. Long.
It became a staple of our sex life, one we both enjoyed immensely.
My character comes to life in my mind as I turn my head to Matthew behind me. “Help your queen stand, servant.”
When I lift my hand to him, he takes it, rising to leverage me into standing. “Drain the tub.”
He leans down to do just that, never releasing my hand. Once the tub is empty, I nod at the shower wand seated beside the tub spout. “Rinse me.”
When his eyes flick from my foam-covered flesh to the water controls, then back again, my whole body is on fire.
The water turns on, flowing from the wand, and he tests the temperature with his palm.
Then, he begins rinsing the suds from my skin, starting with my shoulders, the warm water cascading over my breasts, making my nipples pucker, those mismatched eyes hovering on them as he lets the water flow longer than necessary over the taut buds.
Then, he rinses the rest of me, front and back, before aiming the wand at my pussy, letting those little jets pelt my clit a while as I sigh, hips gyrating just a little.
Then the water is off, Matthew returns the wand to its place, and turns to where he’d been sitting to grab the folded towel there.
I spread my arms before he rubs the towel along my skin, drying my arms from hand to shoulder, then my back, before gliding the soft fabric to my breasts, massaging them as he soaks up the water.
But he’s done too soon, drying my stomach and legs, before coming up one of my thighs to my pussy and cupping it with his towel-covered hand, using his palm to grind into my clit, forcing my legs apart, making me grip his shoulders so I don’t fall over.
The whine I emit is not that of a woman in power, but wanton, no control.
To my frustration, Matthew pulls away, puts the towel down, and takes my hand, this time to help me out of the tub and onto the bath mat below, where I dig my wet toes into the long fibers.
Matthew sweeps his gaze up and down my body, making more goosebumps pop up along my skin than the cool air after a hot bath. His tongue pokes out and runs across his lips. “Does my Queen require anything of me before I fetch her robe?”
I require so much of him…
“You missed a spot drying your Queen.” I turn my back on him and bend at the waist, leaning over the tub with my hands on the side, spreading my legs.
The groan he lets out is nearly a howl, and he takes his time retrieving the towel before standing behind me and running it over my ass cheeks, then dipping it to graze against my puckered hole.
I hum and push into his fingertips, listening to his breath hitch, glimpsing the strain of his cock against the zipper of his jeans from between my legs.
“You may stop, servant.”
He does as I command, albeit slowly, and I straighten and turn to him. “Carry me to my bed chamber. Your Queen would have you service her tonight.”
His eyes grow so dark at the prospect, they’re almost black, pupils blown.
He dips down to scoop me into his arms and carries me the several steps from the bathroom to my bed, where he lays me on my back on top of the comforter.
Those strong hands glide against the skin of my thighs, and my slick dribbles from my core down the crack of my ass, forcing me to stifle a hiss.
“Where is my Queen’s scepter?”
His husky tone barely breaks through my lust-addled brain. Scepter? What is he…?
Oh.
“Bottom bedside drawer,” I breathe in response.
It’s barely a moment before he’s between my legs, purple vibrator in his grasp. I spread my knees and whine for him, but he doesn’t move, just looks at me with frustrating calm.
“What would my Queen have her servant do?”
“Please me until we’re both spent. Make me scream for you.”
He lets out a long, slow breath, and turns the vibrator on. The sound it emits lets me know it’s on the lowest setting as he crawls over my body, settles his jeans-covered cock over my bare pussy, and takes one nipple into his hot, wet mouth while pressing the vibrator to the other.
My cry turns into a mewl, my slick gushing now, hips rubbing against the chafing material of his pants, but I don’t care. I need release, and soon.
“Make your Queen come now.” My tone is more forceful than I meant it, but it fits so well into our little game that he hums against my breast before kissing his way down my body until is head is between my thighs and he’s slowly running the vibrator along my pussy lips.
I buck off the bed with a cry, and he pushes my hips back to the mattress, leaning his face close to my pussy while he draws unknown shapes along my skin with the vibrating tip, until that point presses into my clit and I scream, a puddle forming beneath my ass as I do.
“My Queen has blessed me with so much slick,” Matthew rasps. “And she still hasn’t come yet.”
The buzzing suddenly grows louder, the vibrations so hard and fast they flow through my entire body until I’m crying out against the pleasure, screaming and writhing against Matthew’s hold until he pulls the vibrator away, and the sound stops. “My Queen requires more, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” It comes out as more of a hiss.
He breathes a heavy sigh before getting back to his feet and undoing his fly, sliding his jeans, soaked in my slick, down his hips and legs where he kicks them off somewhere, standing in front of me completely naked, his cock pointing at my body, the head so strained it’s turning purple.
“I’m going to pleasure my Queen how she needs to be pleasured.” He steps closer. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He hums. “That’s what I thought.” He’s leaning now, rubbing that swollen head between my aching pussy lips, coating it with my slick as I gasp and whine. “My little royal whore.”
His last words before he plunges his cock into my ass, all the way to the hilt, drawing a scream so loud from the depths of my body, I feel like I might pass out from the pleasure.
But then the buzzing is back, and as he slides from my ass and plunges back in again, he sticks the vibrator deep inside my pussy, moving and angling it just so to find that spot inside me he knows all too well.
That spot that sends me over the edge, screaming as my vision goes white, my body twisting and grinding, him fucking my ass hard enough my breasts bounce with each thrust, and rubbing my g-spot with that vibrator, until I am completely undone, tears streaming down my face, orgasm wracking me.
But he isn’t done.
That vibrator leaves my warm sheath and returns to my clit, drawing more waves of pleasure from me, again and again, as he slides in and out of my ass, pumping like a madman, his balls slapping my cheeks with each thrust until I am nothing but a puddle of goo on top of the bed, unable to move as Matthew’s knot swells inside my ass, locking us together, as we should be.
As we always will be from now on.