Page 61 of Snow Bound

It’s just sleeping, she told herself. “Do you hog the bed?”

“No.”

“Snore?”

“No, brat.” He tapped her nose. “Stay or go?”

She was too tired to be worried. “Stay.”

He dropped a kiss on her mouth. “Be right back.”

Her eyes drifted closed as he moved away from the bed. She heard him moving around in the bathroom, water running, the toilet flushing, more water running, then the click when he turned out the light.

He slid in behind her, turning her so her back was to his chest, her butt tucked into his hips. She let out a blissful sigh and let herself go limp.

“Goodnight, Anna.”

“Night,” she murmured and was out like a light.

CHAPTER TEN

Grant woke with Anna tucked up next to him, her hand on his chest, her leg draped across his thighs. Her breath, slow and deep in sleep, puffed warm against his neck.

There were worse ways to start the day.

He glanced down. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her hair spread out across his chest. Her breasts were pressed into his ribs, soft and full, their warm weight a sensual comfort. The hand on his chest was curled slightly, her wrist still faintly marked from yesterday’s rope.

It made him smile—and it made his dick twitch, his usual morning half hard-on going full in a blink. He brushed his hand slowly down her bare back, considering. He could let her sleep…or he could wake her up. If he played his cards right, by the time her smart mouth woke up, her brain would be too steeped in pleasure to give him grief.

He shifted her carefully onto her back. She stirred briefly, then settled back into sleep with a small sigh. He grinned and looked down at her soft nipples. There was some slight bruising from the clothespins, her nipples a ruddy, dark red that provided a sharp contrast to the pale skin of her breasts. It would be fun to do some breast bondage with her—her wrists held rope marks so well, he’d love to see her breasts similarly decorated.

He hoped Simon had gotten his bag overnighted, he thought idly, then gave her his full attention.

In the wash of the early morning light filtering through the gauzy curtains, he looked his fill. Against her skin the marks he’d left stood out clearly, little blue fingerprints and welts on her thighs, and her ankles and thighs also bore the imprint of rope.

He drew a finger over them, lightly, carefully, so she wouldn’t wake. The texture left behind by the harsh fibers, pressed into her skin by passion, was a bumpy contrast to the softness of her unmarred skin. He traced his finger over her thigh, up to her hip, to the junction where the two met. The skin there was soft, and when he shifted to brush his mouth over her, found that it carried her sweet, spicy scent.

It stirred his blood. He breathed deep, his breath washing over her as he exhaled, and her skin broke out in gooseflesh. He darted a quick glance at her face, saw she slept on. And wondered how long he could play before she woke.

Moving slowly, carefully, he pressed his hands to the insides of her thighs and gently shifted them apart to bare the soft flesh between.

The plump outer lips of her pussy were closed now, hiding the pink beneath, shielding her clit from view. He stroked a finger down one side, then the other, marveling at the satiny texture. She was pale here too, when arousal wasn’t a factor. He knew how she looked now when the blood rushed to the surface to engorge the delicate tissues, how her clit emerged from its hood like a shining pink pearl as she got closer to climax. He continued to stroke slowly, delicately, wanting to see the transition from pale and closed to pink and open.

He gently peeled the outer labia back, and her clit came into view. Still in its hood, quiet and soft, he leaned in to give it a gentle lick. Her taste bloomed on his tongue as her thighs shifted restlessly under his hands, then settled once again. Unable to resist, he began to explore.

Up one side, then the other with soft laps of his tongue. Gently circling her clit, then delving into the softer flesh below. Gradually blood rose to the surface, deepening the color and engorging the delicate tissues. The swelling caused the inner labia to push the outer aside, and the soft opening of her cunt came into view. She was beginning to wake, her thighs shifting restlessly, little moans and sighs emerging as her chest flushed with arousal. He wondered if he could make her come before she was fully conscious, and set himself to the task.

Sweet pleasure swirled and pulsed through her, generous and undemanding. Pure desire, freely felt without encumbrance, the joy of it a bright burst of color in her mind. Hovering between sleep and consciousness, rational thought was suspended, and in its absence, the only thing she could do was feel. It was pure and lovely, and she grasped it greedily.

Gradually though, it demanded more of her. Her body began to move with it, against it, seeking more. More contact, more pressure, more friction. Her sighs turned to gasps as pleasure sharpened, deepened. Tension coiled in her belly, winding tighter, pushing need higher. Her body strained towards it, asking for more, pleading, until without warning, it broke.

Her eyes flew open on a cry, her body convulsing, the rhythmic pulses deep and hard, going on and on until the pleasure became almost pain. She bucked against it, against the mouth and hands holding her.

She looked down at Grant with his mouth pressed to her throbbing pussy, his hands holding her thighs spread wide. “Stop. I can’t.”

One eyebrow went up in a challenge accepted look, and she shook her head. “Please, I can’t. Really.”

He paused only long enough to say, “I’m not hearing a safeword.” Then his tongue was on her and he was ruthlessly driving her up again.

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