Holly
What the fuck is happening? A man getting too forceful isn’t an uncommon thing—men like Chad are a dime a dozen, and it serves me right for going out with a man named fucking Chad—but getting “rescued” by a naked mystery man doesn’t exactly happen on a daily basis. I rattle my wrists against the restraints. Can I really consider myself “rescued” when I’m tied to the bed?
My throat burns from screaming, and I’m forced to rest my voice. There’s no point in crying for help, anyway. I live in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere.
Footsteps approach the bedroom, and I brace myself as the door swings open. He takes up the entire door frame. An artistic statue of male perfection. And he’s fucking shirtless. I peer at the bulging area in the crotch of his jeans and wish I could have caught a glimpse of that, but he’d been behind Chad when he was naked.
“Snow princess,” he whispers, and his eyes light up when he sees me.
“Why do you call me that?” I ask.
“Because you love the snow, princess.” Infatuation saturates each word, and he eyes me like he knows what I look like without any clothes on.
Is he the man who’s been watching me?
Heat fills my cheeks. How long has he been spying on me and witnessing my depraved acts with innocent little snowmen? I always said I didn’t care who happened by and saw my indiscretions, but now that I’m confronted with someone who actually has, I’d consider myself a fucking liar.
I’m horrified. How desperate did I fucking look? If a hole could open in the floor and swallow me alive, I’d go without so much as a whimper.
I can get dick. I almost got Chad’s dick, whether I wanted it or not! I just like the cold feeling of snow and the dirty taboo nature of fucking myself with vegetables instead of cock-shaped toys. Or real men. Is that really such a bad thing?
I lick my lips and clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Every moment I could.”
He admits this so brazenly that I almost laugh. He doesn’t even try to pretend he hasn’t been a creep. But why would a dude who looks like him need to stalk and tie up a woman? With that body and his ice-blue eyes and blond hair, he could get a woman tied up just fine without the rest of the shit.
“What do you want with me? Are you going to hurt me?”
Surprise widens his eyes as he shakes his head and steps closer. His lips spread, and his eyebrows furrow. “I would never hurt you. You’re my snow princess. My reason for breathing. My only desire is to please you.”
Please me? What the fuck kind of abduction is this? I mean, if he wants to give me an endless barrage of orgasms, he doesn’t need to tie me up to accomplish his goal.
“You want to please me, huh? And what do you get out of it?”
“My pleasure is directly linked to yours,” he says. “If I make you feel good, I feel good.”
“Show me,” I whisper, taking the risk. If he wants to please me, go nuts, dude.
If he wants to give me mind-bending orgasms, who am I to stop him? Not that I could, even if I wanted to. He could overpower me with the muscles in his pointer finger.
A smile spreads on his face, and he approaches the bed. I draw in a breath when his powerful body pushes between my legs. My thighs part. His chest presses against mine. He leans over and releases a warm breath against my ear. Goosebumps speckle my skin, followed by a shiver of undeniable need through my body.
He leans back and surveys me before his hands grip the collar of my flimsy dress. In one seamless movement, he tears the fabric down the middle. I’m not wearing a bra, so his eyes travel straight to my bare breasts. A low growl rumbles from his chest.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers.
As I lie here with my nipples pointing to the ceiling and begging for his mouth, he gets off the bed and leaves the room. A few seconds later, the front door slams and a thousand thoughts rush through my mind.
Was this all some sick game? Does he plan to murder me now, or will he just leave me to be found like this? I wiggle my wrists against the restraints, but it’s no use. There’s too little give. Damn these industrial-strength stockings.
I’m three seconds from dislocating my thumbs when he enters the room again. Instead of a weapon, he holds a tightly packed ball of snow in his massive hand.
“What do you plan to do with that?” I ask.
Instead of answering me, he steps toward the bed and runs the snowball down the curve of my left breast. My nipple tightens to the point of discomfort, yet I revel in this feeling. Rubbing snow against my bare body is one thing, but to have someone embrace my kink and do it for me is something else entirely.
He drags the ball of ice over my nipple in tight circles. “You love the cold, but what about the heat that follows?”
Before I can ask what he means, his hot mouth engulfs the aching nub. My back rises from the mattress, pushing my breast against him as he sucks and teases me. As he continues to devour me, he traces a path on my skin with the snowball. A cold, wet trail travels from my sternum to the curve of my stomach.
His lips move to the path left in the snow’s wake, and his tongue lashes at the icy liquid. By the time he reaches my stomach, I’m tilting my pelvis to encourage him to keep going. I writhe against the restraints, which just makes me feel helpless.
At his mercy.
And I’ve never been so turned on.
He sits up and works the snow between his hands until it shifts from a ball to a cylinder. He presses the icy tip to my leg, running it up one thigh and down the other, then he holds it against my panties. I’ve never wanted something to touch me more.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what?” He moves the frozen rod away from me. “You want to feel the cold on your pretty little pussy?”
I nod with embarrassing enthusiasm.
I expect him to pull my panties aside and tease me some more, but he holds the snow cylinder between his full lips and hooks his hands into my waistband. In one swift motion, he rips the lacy material from my body and clasps his hand around the snowy rod again. He slides the cold cylinder between my lips, and my clit screams from the sudden intense shift in temperature. The cold eases away from my skin, and his warm breath replaces it. After another breath, his tongue is on me. My hips buck against each drawn-out lick as pleasure rushes between my legs. His warmth chases away the cold—one intense sensation traded for another.
He pushes the packed snow inside me, and I strain against the restraints as my back arches. He fucks me with the snow, plunging the stiff cold into me as his tongue flicks my clit. Breath shudders out of me as each pass of his mouth works in time with each forward thrust of his hand. My body quivers, and an explosion of melted snow erupts from me as I come.
Even as my orgasm wanes, he continues thrusting the melting rod. He continues licking me. He continues pleasing me until I come again. Stars dance behind my clenched eyelids, and I can’t hold back the cry of pleasure that claws up my throat.
And he still doesn’t stop.
Once the heat of my pussy melts the rest of the snow, his fingers replace it and piston through the soaked mess between my legs. He moans, and the deep sound vibrates against my clit. It’s as if he can feel the same pleasure he’s giving me.
Speaking of his pleasure, I want to feel him inside me. I want to know how that massive bulge in his pants will fit into the intimate space between my legs. His fingers are great, but I want him to fill me with his cock.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“I can’t,” he says as he stops licking me and climbs up my body.
His rock-hard erection presses through his jeans against my pelvis. “It sure feels like you could.”
“It’s not about me, snow princess,” he whispers. He pulls the ties on my restraints and releases my arms. “Besides . . . I’m not finished with you yet.”