Chapter 9 Hope
HOPE
It’s warm, warmer than I’m used to. Lifting my arms to stretch, I realize I can’t move far. Realization dawns on me as the weight of someone’s arm is thrown over my waist.
Frost… He stayed.
We’re both naked as the day we were born, and I’m deliciously sore. Slowly, I blink the room into focus as the memories of last night wash over me. A flush of heat floods my core as the words he made me repeat to him ring in my head.
“If we do this, you’re mine.”
A naughty thought crosses my mind, and before I can stop myself, I shimmy out from under his arm and slide down the bed slowly to avoid waking him. Frost rolls onto his back, revealing his very erect cock, and the sight makes my mouth water.
Time to return the favor.
I watch him sleep for a few minutes, the soft rise and fall of his chest hypnotic.
He looks so peaceful, so completely unaware of what I could do to him.
He’s at my complete mercy. I grin mischievously as I lightly stoke him.
Slipping under the covers, I settle between his legs, my hands resting gently on his thighs.
He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake up. I swipe my tongue across the slit, and his cock jumps at the contact.
Peeking up, I make sure I didn’t wake him. Frost twitches in his sleep, a soft, unconscious groan escaping his lips. It’s all the encouragement I need.
Pulling my lips over my teeth so I don’t nip him, I draw him inside my mouth and gently suck the head. I swirl my tongue around him as I gradually take him further. His body responds, and even in his sleep his hips jerk upward. Fingers intertwine with my hair, and I hum my approval.
“Fuck,” Frost groans. “Your mouth is pure heaven.”
His touch is gentle but firm, a silent command as I continued to work him over. He hits the back of my throat with his thrusts, and I don’t hate it. It doesn’t take long for me to push him over the edge.
“Hope, I’m going to come,” he warns.
Instead of backing off, I suck him deeper. With a final growl he comes undone, his release pulsing into my mouth, and I swallow every drop. I pull back, wiping my lips with the back of my hand and look up at him.
He tugs on my hands. “Come here, baby,”
Smiling, I start to crawl up his body… BANG!
The bedroom door flies open so violently it smacks the wall. I scream while Frost jumps out of the bed, pushing me behind him.
Standing in the doorway is my best friend, looking angrier than a charging bull.
“Amy!?” I shout, grabbing the blanket to cover myself.
My best friend grips an aluminum baseball bat with both hands, hair sticking straight up, wearing pajamas with tiny snowmen on them.
“She’s alive!” Amy shrieks. Then she points the bat at Frost. “Stay where I can see you.”
Frost blinks. “What the fuck?”
“You didn’t text me back last night,” Amy snaps, voice cracking. “And the last thing you said was that you invited a stranger over for dinner, so naturally I assumed you’d been kidnapped, murdered, or chopped into a million pieces!”
“Amy…”
“No! No, Hope!” She swings the bat around wildly, nearly hitting my lamp. “You think I’m exaggerating? I watched a true crime show before bed. My brain is going through some shit.”
Frost rubs his face with one hand. “Do I need clothes for this?”
“Yes!” Amy snaps as she whips the bat toward him again. “Why the hell are you naked?”
I groan, pulling the blanket tighter. “Amy, put the bat down and quit threatening the man I…”
Nope. Can’t finish that sentence out loud right now.
Frost careens his neck so he can see me. His mouth curves into a faint smirk. “The man you…?”
I kick him. “Don’t.”
Amy gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, you totally fucked him. Hope Webster, how dare you! You couldn’t even bother to call me and give me the details. I mean look at him.” She waves the bat in his direction. “He’s built like a Roman statue.”
“Amy, for the love of everything holy, put the bat down.”
She lowers it an inch. “Are you sure he’s not a serial killer?”
“No,” Frost says.
I hit him in his shoulder. “Do not give her a reason to attack you.”
He holds up both hands. “I’m just saying, this is not my murderer vibe.”
Amy narrows her eyes, studying him. “You look like you went a few rounds with Mike Tyson.”
I bounce on my toes. “That’s what I said.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “Did he at least win?”
“He says he did,” I answer.
“Well, at least he can handle himself,” she responds.
“Thank you,” Frost says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Amy snaps.
“I’m still taking it as one,” he jokes.
I groan into my hands. “Can everyone please stop and let me get dressed? I don’t think we need to have this conversation naked.”
Amy finally lowers the bat all the way, leaning it against the wall. She puts her hands on her hips, looking between us with the expression of someone who wants answers, popcorn, and maybe a time machine.
“Okay,” she says. “So, you’re alive, and I’m traumatized… Great.” Her eyes roam over his body. “Do you have a brother?”
Frost smirks. “Quite a few, actually.”
“Single?”
“As far as I know.”
I hold up my hand. “Wait, I didn’t know you had brothers… Sister, yes, brothers, no.”
Frost tugs me into his arms. “I’m in a motorcycle club, darlin’. I have lots of brothers.”
Ah, that makes sense.
Amy crosses her arms. “And pray tell, where are these ‘brothers’?”
Frost clears his throat. “Why don’t we order out for breakfast?” he asks me, and then turns to face Amy. “Do you want to join us?”
Amy blinks at him and then laughs. “Oh my god,” she says. “He’s polite. You got yourself a polite biker.”
“Please leave,” I whisper, horrified.
“Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen. We can talk more about these brothers.” Amy sighs dramatically and backs out of the room. “Maybe next time, you’ll text me you’re alive, getting your brains screwed out, or something.”
She disappears down the hall, and the moment she’s gone, Frost looks at me.
“You know,” he says slowly. “I didn’t think meeting your friends would be quite like this.”
I drop my face into his chest. “Welcome to my life.”
He wraps both arms around me. “It’s not that bad,” he murmurs. “Could’ve been worse.”
“How?” I ask, breaking away to look for some clothes.
Frost grabs his pants off the ground. “She could’ve swung the bat.”