I’ve fallen into a winter wonderland, one complete with a sexy-exhibitionist wood nymph.
She sticks out her tongue to catch the falling flakes of snow, big fluffy ones that reflect the outdoor lights and are rapidly enclosing us in our own personal snow-globe. It’s hard to concentrate on the weather, however. Her hands have found my cock, teasing it with the same brushing and rubbing she was using on my chest.
An artist who has made me her canvas.
My cock, who should by rights be lulled to sleep by the warm waters, pulses up, trying to find the hands that want to be his new playmates. She chuckles, but she’s not in a hurry to give him what he wants. Her fingers skim the waistband of my swim trunks, which makes me deeply regret their necessity. Fortunately for me, her swimwear is the more accessible kind.
I release her hips, bringing my palms up under her curls. “Your hair is collecting quite the wreath of snow.”
She laughs. “More like a toque, probably.”
I catch the cold drips as the heat of the pool has its way with the snowflakes that land too close to the water. Then I catch her wrists and lift her hands to my shoulders. “Keep them there.”
She gives me a look. One that speaks of the lioness she told me about.
I need to persuade her to let me hunt her for a while. I lean forward, nuzzling into her snow-flecked hair. “Can you be absolutely silent, sweetness?” I slide a hand between her legs and cup her so she doesn’t misunderstand my meaning. “I’ve always thought snowflakes are fiercely passionate, and they fall without a sound.”
I can feel the alertness in her. The huntress, considering. It’s a fine line I’m walking and I know it. I’m not asserting control. Quite. I’m asking her to control herself while I play.
My fingers move up her belly, finding the line of skin where her tank top and swim bottoms don’t quite meet. She hisses against my shoulder, but I don’t miss her head shifting to get a better view. I work my way into her bottoms, which give way to my questing fingers like they were made for this purpose. This time, when I cup her, I can feel the slick heat that has nothing to do with the hot-spring waters.
I know I’ve not got much time. Water is a terrible lubricant, and I don’t want her sore for what comes next. I slide two fingers into her, curling them back towards me.
I watch her carefully. I can see her answer to what I’ve just done, but I need to know she can see it too. “What color is your traffic light, Daley?”
She blinks at me, snowflakes on her eyelashes. Her cheeks blush pink as she processes my words. Her head dips down. “Green.”
An exhibitionist embarrassed by owning her own desire. Such a lovely contradiction she is. I move my fingers inside her.
She moans as I stroke the bundle of nerves I find there.
I put the fingers of my free hand under her chin and guide her gaze to mine. “I need your silence, sweetness.” I tap against the inner walls of her pussy. “I’m not going to make it easy for you. I want to see your wild tonight.”
Her eyes narrow. She’s clearly figured out that I’m asking for her wild on a tight leash. One that’s in her hands.
I smile calmly. I have reasons. It remains to be seen whether they work for her or not. I stroke the pillowed nerves inside her firmly, measuring her response. It’s instant and explosive—and never touches her voice. The rest of her arches and tenses and rocks, begging my hand for things it would dearly love to do. However, since we’ve not the lubricant for such adventures and I doubt her exhibitionism extends to dropping her swim bottoms and bending over the edge of the pool so I can use my tongue, I feed her intensity in other ways.
I hold her gaze with mine. “No moving. I want you holding as still as a statue, letting the snow turn you into a winter goddess.”
Her eyes flash a warning. I’m pushing and she knows it.
I flutter my fingers inside her. The groan rises up in her throat, and she swallows it. A long pause. Then she sits up a little straighter, drops her hands to her thighs, and closes her eyes.
Acquiescence—and a dare.
I grin. I keep my fingers buried in her pussy and start flexing them, rubbing tight circles over the spot my fingers have claimed.
Her eyes snap open, but the rest of her doesn’t move at all.
I give her a wink and add more pressure.