Chapter 13 Snow
SNOW
“Snow?”
“Mhm?” My heart races as my mind floods with countless ways this could go wrong.
Maybe last night was a fluke.
A one-off.
Maybe he regrets it and I’ve overstepped.
Maybe he’s had a terrible day and this is the last thing he wants to see.
Maybe he’s about to tell me that he got my results back and something terrible has happened.
Hell, maybe last night was just a dream and I’m about to make a gigantic fool of myself.
I stare up at him with wide eyes as those thoughts send cold spirals down my spine and my gut tightens slightly, waiting for him to speak.
He sets his briefcase on the island counter behind him and turns to face me, his eyes slowly moving down my body. “Is this my dinner? A beautiful meal I can’t taste?”
Oh, thank God.
“Your dinner’s over there.” I nod toward two pots simmering on low heat on the stove. “And will be ready in about forty minutes.”
“Forty minutes,” Xander repeats, grasping the knot of his tie and very slowly loosening it as he walks closer to me. “And for those forty minutes… dinner and a show?”
He passes by so close that my skin jumps in anticipation of a touch that doesn’t come. I breathe in and briefly close my eyes as his scent of soap and coffee briefly overrides the spices of the curry.
“Something like that,” I murmur. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and without work to distract me, all I could do was organize a meeting with the lawyer at lunch tomorrow, call my friends who were all working and couldn’t talk, and think about last night.”
“Last night?” Xander leans over the pots and examines the curry, stirring it slowly with a spoon and then looking back at me. “What happened last night?”
His voice is low, teasing.
A shiver rolls across my shoulders and my gasp draws Xander’s full attention.
He walks back toward me, sliding the tie from around his neck and tossing it behind him. “Care to remind me?”
“Was it so unmemorable that you forgot?” I ask as he leans close enough that the heat from his body warms my skin.
This close, I glimpse the subtle flecks of gold that hide within the dark brown of his eyes and the hint of his facial hair struggling to regrow after such a close shave.
“I didn’t forget,” he says firmly, as if that point is the most important to him.
“But you are the one who fell asleep. How do I know you remember every detail?” His brow arches.
“I remember the curve of your breasts when you leaned back against the pillows, the dip of your abdomen when your breath caught in your throat, and the glistening line of your pussy when you parted your thighs to show yourself off to me.”
He’s so close that it hurts. I want to reach out and drag him in for a kiss, rake my hands through his hair and draw him in with my thighs.
His hands rest on the counter on either side of me and his cheek is a hairsbreadth away from mine as he murmurs low in my ear.
“I remember the first gasp you made and the way your toes curled when you slid your fingers into yourself. I remember the slick, wet sound your cunt made when you fucked yourself knuckle-deep because you needed a poor imitation of my cock. I remember the flush on your cheeks and the way your eyes rolled, I remember the exact shade your nipples turned as you pulled at them and I remember the sound that came out of you when you came.”
I can’t breathe.
My core throbs to every word, my skin flushing hot like a fever is taking over and I’m powerless to resist.
“You’re wet now, aren’t you?” Xander purrs and his lips brush the shell of my ear. “Touch yourself. Touch yourself the way you want me to.”
Oh, my fucking God.
I was so wrong. Xander doesn’t regret a single fucking thing.
He leans back and our eyes meet as I slide my fingers inside myself, parting my thighs wide enough that they rest against his wrists.
He holds my gaze and it’s impossible to look away, even as I lean back and brace on one arm to adjust my angle.
“Fuck,” I gasp as two of my fingers curl inside me. “You’re an asshole.”
Xander smirks, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The famously cold, quiet man has a devilish side that no one ever sees and I’m being granted a glimpse that sets my blood on fire.
“You asked me what I remembered and I’m telling you that every detail from last night is burned in my mind. I haven’t forgotten a single thing. Not how good you looked, how good you sounded, or how you looked at my cock like you haven’t been fucked by a real man in your entire life.”
A trembling moan tears from me as I fuck my fingers into myself faster and faster.
“I haven’t,” I gasp, struggling to hold his gaze. “I need it. I need you. I need to be fucked my someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Tell me,” Xander demands, and he steps away, much to my distress. “Close your eyes and tell me how you want me to fuck you.”
“Oh, God!” My fingers slip on my own slick as my core throbs, matching the punches of my racing heart.
I stroke my clit feverishly, desperately chasing the pleasure I crave from him but am denied.
Closing my eyes, my head falls back and I slide my fingers back inside myself.
“I want you to hold my hips until they ache and fuck me so hard that I c-can’t walk. I want to feel every single thrust for days. Not fast like some inexperienced rat. I want you to fuck me like you can’t stand to be parted from me, like I’m the most addicting thing you’ve ever seen.”
Faster and faster my fingers work, but it’s not enough, even as the fantasy plays out in my mind under the heat of his gaze. Distantly, something snaps but I scarcely register it.
“I want to feel your hands on my body, on my tits and around my neck. I want your hair in my hands, I want to feel like I’m falling and you’ll catch me. I want—fuck, I want your cock splitting me open, fucking me like you own me until we’re one and I can’t—AHH!”
Two cold, slick fingers suddenly shove inside me alongside my own hand and a yelp of surprise tears from me.
My eyes snap open, and Xander’s over me, his eyes dark and possessive while he shoves his fingers deeper.
My pussy stretches with a pleasant ache around our combined fingers, but just as panic at contact rises in my chest, I glance down.
The purple of Xander’s protective surgical gloves wraps around his wrist, and behind him, his briefcase lies open with pieces of his kit strewn across the counter.
“Xander—”
“Too much?” he asks in a low voice. “Because my cock is so much more.”
“Don’t—” I gasp, clenching my walls down around him. “Don’t stop!”
“I never plan to.” Xander’s fingers start fucking into me in tandem with my own. He mixes his rhythm for a moment, switching between fast and slow until it feels like he’s reaching so deep inside me that my core throbs.
I collapse back against the counter and he remains over me, sliding his arm under one of my thighs and lifting it, then bracing his hand on the counter.
He watches me like he’s studying a piece of art. “You’re just as hot as I thought you’d be,” he murmurs, curling his fingers against my G-Spot and sending a powerful punch of pleasure through my body.
I jolt and my eyes roll.
My fingers lose their rhythm, but Xander picks up the slack and the contrast between his cold, gloved fingers and my own warm ones makes it feel like I’m being churned up inside.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, my skin ignites, and I’m so hot, I’m sure I’m about to melt.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp desperately, arching up against him and writhing briefly against the soft fabric of his shirt. “I need—fuck, I need more!”
“More?” Xander purrs softly. His hand increases and as his fingers plunge deep, his thumb slides over my clit and presses down firmly.
As his thumb rocks back and forth and his fingers fuck into me with powerful strokes, I melt.
I come with a strangled cry, clutching at his shoulder with all my strength until his shirt threatens to tear against my fingernails.
Pulse after pulse of pleasure curls through my body and my vision briefly goes dark.
On and on my orgasm drags as he fingerfucks me through every second of pleasure, massaging my walls and stroking my clit to prolong my pleasure until I’m a gasping, panting puddle on his counter.
Our eyes meet and Xander leans down so close that we share the same air.
I want to kiss him.
It’s a craving that rises like a powerful instinct, but just as I lift my head, Xander smirks and pulls away with his fingers still inside me.
“We have to follow the rules, remember?” Xander spreads his fingers inside me, and I whimper, leaning up and gazing down at his slick-covered glove when he pulls his hand free.
“The rules,” I whisper. “I hate the rules.”
“I don’t know,” he says softly, carefully removing the glove and discarding it. “I think that was pretty fun, don’t you? And we stayed safe.”
He swiftly removes his shirt and drapes it over my bare shoulders, a gentle act that brings rise to a pulse of irritation.
I want him.
I want him so much it hurts.
A kiss.
Just one kiss.
His hand rests briefly on the top of my head and ruffles my hair affectionately, then he returns to his briefcase and starts cleaning up. “I think that was a satisfactory show before dinner,” he says. “Maybe for dessert, I’ll show you what you want to taste and can’t have.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” I say, kicking softly out at him. “I’d say you’re enjoying this.”
He glances over his shoulder. “The longer the fruit is left on the bud, the sweeter the treat, don’t you think?”
I groan and slump back.
He’s right.
But if I don’t get my results soon, I’m going to go insane.