Chapter 1: The Snowstorm Confession
The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the rumpled sheets as Maranda’s chilled fingers finally found his bare skin. “Christ, your hands are freezing,” Cole gasped, but his complaint dissolved into a ragged moan as her palm smoothed down his stomach. Her touch was no accident now, her fingers wrapping with deliberate, knowing pressure around his hard length, and when she looked up at him, her green eyes were dark with a hunger he’d only dreamed of seeing. “Tell me you want this too,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck, and all he could manage was a frantic nod before her mouth was on his, tasting of wine and winter and years of wasted time. He rolled them over, pinning her beneath him, the weight of his body sinking into hers as he growled against her lips, “I’ve been fucking losing my mind wanting you.”
He kissed a burning trail down her body, his hands pushing her thighs apart before his mouth found her, and he drank her in with a groan that vibrated against her slick flesh. She cried out, her fingers twisting in his hair, her hips bucking against his tongue as he licked and sucked until her pleas were a broken chant. “Please, Cole, I need it—I need your cock in my mouth, now,” she begged, tugging him up by his hair.
He knelt before her, his huge cock jutting against her lips, and she took him deep, gagging softly as she worked her throat around him. When he was slick with her spit, she pushed him back onto the mattress and straddled his lap, her hand guiding him as she sank down onto his length with a sharp, gasping cry, taking him deeper than she ever thought she could.
The gasp she let out was part pain, part pure fucking triumph as she took all of him, her body stretching to accommodate his thickness. “Fuck, yes, just like that,” Cole snarled, his hands clamping onto her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he began to drive up into her with a brutal, punishing rhythm. The headboard slammed against the wall in a frantic tattoo as she rode him, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together, her cries morphing into ragged sobs of pleasure with each deep, grinding thrust. “I’m gonna come,” he grunted, his body tightening, and she slid off him, her mouth finding him again, hot and demanding. “Give it to me,” she whispered, and with a raw shout he erupted, pulsing thick jets onto her tongue as she swallowed every drop, her green eyes locked on his.
She crawled back up his body, her lips tasting of salt and him, and kissed him deeply so he could taste himself on her tongue. “My turn,” he growled, flipping her onto her stomach with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. He didn’t enter her right away, just dragged the swollen head of his cock through her slickness, making her whimper and push back against him. “You’re so fucking wet for me again already,” he muttered, a dark thrill in his voice, before he shoved into her with one brutal, perfect thrust. ROUND TWO BEGINS.
ROUND TWO BEGINS. He fucked her like that, from behind, his grip on her hips sure to leave bruises, until her cries melted into a spent, trembling silence. Afterward, they lay tangled and slick, the fire reduced to embers, until he nudged her with a grin. “Come on, you’re a mess,” he said, his voice rough, pulling her up and leading her to the bathroom. The hot water sluiced over them, steam rising as he soaped her back with a tenderness that felt entirely new. She leaned into him, exhausted and utterly claimed, under the relentless, forgiving heat.