Page 31 of Snow Bound

“Yes, Sir, my asshole is greedy,” she replied dutifully then shut her mouth before she could beg him to lick it again.

“There, that wasn’t so hard,” he said approvingly, and shoved his tongue into her cunt at the same time he speared his thumb into her anus.

When he flipped her over onto her back again, she was nothing but a puddle of quivering, half-conscious flesh. She didn’t even flinch when her tender butt hit the mattress. “I think I’m dead. Did I die?”

“Don’t think so.” His voice was rich with amusement. “But I can make sure.”

Her eyes flew open when his teeth closed, not gently, around her clit. “Nope,” she croaked out. “Not dead.”

His laugh made her lips quiver into a smile. Then he stood up, and she felt her already dry mouth—coming your brains out was terribly dehydrating—go even drier.

Sometime between making her come for the third time and making sure she wasn’t dead, he’d stripped off his clothes. And while Grant clothed was a delightful, delicious sight, Grant naked was practically an orgasm.

God, he was sexy. Broad shoulders, biceps that bunched and bulged. His chest was firmly muscled, covered in a light dusting of dark hair that made her want to rub her cheek over him and purr like a kitten. It tapered to a narrow trail, bisecting thick abs before fanning out again around his penis. His very hard, very thick penis. He had one hand wrapped around it, slowly stroking, and the ruddy tip gleamed wetly in the light.

Unable to resist, she reached for him.

He brushed her fingers aside before she could touch him. “Nope.”

“I just want to touch,” she protested, and licked her lips again, eyes still locked on the dark, bulbous head. “Maybe taste.”

“No.”

“Who says no to a blowjob?” she wondered faintly.

“Bad girls don’t get to suck dick,” he told her bluntly. “Not unless they beg.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she told him absently, watching him stroke himself. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic. And it was waking up all the nerves she thought had been fried in the last orgasm.

“We’re going to be here until you do,” he warned her.

She eyed him with amusement. “I’ve come three times,” she reminded him.

“You think that gives you an advantage?”

“Well…yeah.”

He chuckled and let go of his dick, leaving it bobbing while he tore open a condom. He slowly rolled it down the length of his shaft, then reached down and came up with a bottle of lube. He squired some onto his palm, then slicked it over his covered length until it glistened.

He crawled onto the bed, big body looming over hers, and tapped the inside of her knee. “Open up.”

Eager now, she did as she was told, spreading her thighs wide.

“Hands over your head,” he ordered, and she lifted them without protest.

He settled between her thighs, one hand wrapped around his dick, the other on her thigh. “Now. Beg me to fuck you.”

She knew she shouldn’t laugh—hell, a green as spring grass submissive would know it was a bad idea—but she did it anyway, right in his face. “In your dreams.”

Almost before the words were out of her mouth his hand was moving, lifting high and then slamming down—right on her clit.

She screamed, her vision going white. She was swollen and tender from the multiple orgasms, and nowhere near aroused enough to translate pain into pleasure—it was like being doused in flame. She arched, trying to get away, but hard hands on her hips held her down.

“Beg me,” she heard through the ringing in her ears.

She forced her eyes to focus through the burn of tears. “No,” she choked out.

He hit her again, wet fingers slapping against the brutalized little nub. A sob ripped from her throat, her eyes closing tight against the pain. Her clit was burning, burning, burning, but under it her traitorous body was coming to life.

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