Page 9 of Their Little Snow Angel
Someone knocks on my door.
“Violet?” Heath’s voice. “Can I come in?”
Is this real, or a fantasy? If it’s real, it’s very, very bad. If it’s a fantasy, yes please.
He knocks again.
“Just a second.” I fight to keep the strain from my voice as I shove the dildo under the pillows along with the purple duffel. I yank up my pants. He wouldn’t be able to see through the covers, but it seems wrong somehow to leave them down. “Come in.”
He enters with a food tray. “Brody said you might not feel comfortable coming down for breakfast.”
“Um, no.” My voice is high-pitched, a sign that I’m not being truthful. “I’m fine to come down.”
“Oh.” He looks down at the tray. “Well, I brought breakfast to you, anyway.”
I want to ask him what else Brody said about me. But I’m afraid of the answer.
Heath’s glance flicks to the pile of duffel bags lined up along the wall. Is he looking for the purple one? I shouldn’t have put it in my bed, of all places. Of course he would notice it missing from the pile.
Unless he doesn’t know about it.
“Are you feeling all right?” His dark blond eyebrows pull together in concern. “You look flushed. Are you feverish?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for breakfast—you really didn’t have to.” I sit up and reach for the tray.
But when I lean forward, the dildo I shoved under the pillows rolls down to nudge against my hip.
Heath’s eyes track the movement. His sensuous lips part.
I try to come up with an excuse, any excuse.
His voice is lower, raspier than usual. “Enjoy your breakfast, Violet.”
Heath
I interrupted Violet when she was fucking herself with that tiny little dildo.
Innocent and filthy at the same time.
My cock has never been harder. I go straight from her room to the bathroom across the hall. Stripping down, I get into the shower. The water hasn’t warmed up yet, but the chill does absolutely nothing to lower my arousal.
Fucking hell. I can picture her in there, her hands between her legs, thrusting that dildo in and out of her cunt.
I grip my cock, jerk my hand back and forth. Slow, shallow strokes—the way I’d take Violet’s cunt for the first time. I don’t want to hurt her. While I don’t expect she’s a virgin, the small dildo makes me think she isn’t as experienced as the women Brody and I usually find to play with.
In my fantasy, Brody comes up behind her, cups her tits, rubs his cock head against her asshole. She’ll make a sound of uncertainty, and I’ll kiss it away, continuing to fuck her slow into an orgasm. Then when Brody pinches her nipples, she’ll come, pussy clenching—fuck?—
I groan as I come. White-hot spurts streak across the shower wall.
By the time I dry off, I’m hard again. Aching for her.
No. Too young. Mason’s daughter. Off-limits.
I get dressed in record time, put on shoes and grab my camera.
And maybe the frigid mountain air will cool my blood.
I grab an ax, too. May as well split some wood. If the storm coming in knocks out the power, we’ll need extra fuel to stay warm.
