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Chapter 4
Scarlett
Liam goes down on Snow with the same growling intensity that he does everything. Looking for all the world like some kind of half animal intent on claiming his mate, he has his giant hands curled firmly around Snow’s hips, keeping her still for his liking as he fucks her cunt with his mouth. His broad shoulders brush against her knees as he works; the muscles in his arms and chest tense and flex as he finds all the spots that make shy little Snow issue combinations of swear words even I’ve never heard before.
But for as sexy as he is and for as much as I want to take notes on what makes her climb the walls, it’s her face I’m riveted by. She’s utterly, indescribably beautiful like this, all abandoned to her pleasure and made selfish and greedy by it. Her lips are parted and her long lashes are fluttering and every single tic and tense of her jaw is more beautiful to me than a sunrise. I have a sudden, nearly spiritual moment of gratitude for Liam and whatever cosmic power brought him to our cabin tonight. That I get to watch Snow like this, that I get to stroke her breasts and croon in her ear as I have an unobstructed view of her unraveling pleasure—it’s a gift beyond imagining. I think I might be able to come just from watching it.
But then Liam’s hand finds my leg, and if his hands look giant and rough, it’s nothing compared to how they feel. And when those wide, blunt fingertips brush against my needy flesh, I don’t bother to bite back my groan.
“Fuck, Liam,” I whisper, trying to rock my hips closer to his touch. “Do that again.”
His eyes—a striking amber with a dark ring around the outside—glare at me from over the rise of Snow’s writhing body, and I realize that for the first time in a very long time, I’m with someone who wants to be in charge more than I do. I relish the idea, the very thought of simply surrendering to this bear of a man and letting him do what he wants with me.
“Am I being a bad girl?” I purr at him as he narrows his eyes. “Do you like to be the boss?”
He stands up and wipes at his mouth with his forearm—a move I find unbearably sexy even at the best of times—but now, with Snow practically trying to fuck the air at the absence of his attention and with him so hugely muscled and shaggy and looming over me—well, I’m a goner. He can gobble me up whole and I’d be grateful for it.
He doesn’t rise to my provoking bait. Instead, he plants his huge hands on either side of my head and leans down, brushing his mouth against mine. I can taste Snow on his lips.
My toes curl with delight.
“Tell me if you want to slow down, and I will. Tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.” His voice is deep and grating. “But I dare you to tell me that you want to be in charge right now.”
He’s right—and stupidly sexy on top of it all—but the fact that he’s right chafes a little. Scarlett Rosenthal is the definition of sexual independence, and while I’ve been in bed with all types, I can’t say that I’ve ever fucked a man so inherently, inexorably…alpha. It’s different. Thrilling and a little scary, like lifting your hands off the handlebars as you zoom down a hill.
“What makes you think I don’t want to be in charge?” I whisper, deflecting. A quick smile curls at his mouth under his beard. My deflection itself is a victory and he knows it.
“Because you waited for me to touch you before you started whining,” he murmurs, leaning down to bite at my neck. I arch up into the flare of pleasure-pain, panting . “Because you couldn’t lie still, couldn’t breathe while I took charge of Snow’s pussy, hmm?”
“Asshole,” I pant . He’s right, and he knows he’s right, and I feel him grin against my neck. “Are you going to finger me now? Pretty please?”
“Nice try,” he grunts. A flash of heat sizzles at the place where he nips at my breast through my camisole. “It’s not going to be that easy, angel.”
His mouth hovers right above my navel, and my cami is rucked up enough around my waist that I can feel his breath on my bare skin. I try to push myself closer, because I want his tongue there, I want the rough kiss of his beard, but he straightens up and denies me the pleasure. Instead, his hands scoop under my ass and yank me to the edge of the bed, and then he steps into the triangle made by my legs. He’s so strongly built that even though his hips are narrow, the muscles of his waist spread my thighs farther apart, and the tight muscles of his ass make a delicious resting place for my calves as I wrap my legs around him.
Still wearing the boxer briefs, he presses the hot length of his erection against my seam, rocking up in a smooth motion that rubs perfectly against my clit.
“Oh, yes,” I whisper, trying to spur him on with the legs I have wrapped around his waist. “Again, again.”
“You just don’t learn, do you?” he rumbles, leaning over me again as his hips thrust wickedly against mine. “I think it’s been some time since someone’s taken you like this. Since you’ve been able to lie back and just feel good.”
Some time…or never. Art school students, whatever gender they identify with, are rarely so…domineering.
“Maybe you’re right,” I admit, my words breaking on surprised breaths as he continues to dry fuck me. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Make you come good enough that you want me to do it again,” is his succinct reply, and I think he has nothing to worry about there. My orgasm is already threatening to twist me apart, and even if he weren’t able to drive me to climax, it’s still incredibly yummy to be in bed with a man like him, watching him give my little Snowdrop as much pleasure as he has. I would still never want this night to end.
But he is going to make me come, and fucking hard, too, and not even with his fingers or his mouth. Not even properly with his cock. He’s going to make me come like a teenager in the backseat of a car, frantically rubbing against a rigid length trapped beneath a layer of clothes.
His hands find my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head, and soon I feel soft lips along my jaw as he thrusts. Snow, with her eyes like onyx in the dark, watches us with addictive intensity.
I can see her hand buried between her legs and it’s enough to send me over the edge, thinking about her fingers inside her wet, tight hole. With a low keen, I come underneath Liam’s thrusting bulk, my clit throbbing and my womb fluttering fast and hard.
“Fuck, you’re pretty when you come,” he growls, his form going motionless over mine but still making his cock available for me to ride out the rest of my orgasm against, which I do with a series of violent, shuddering rocks. And when I go still at last, he steps back, peels off his briefs, and drops back to his knees.
Snow welcomes his face back between her legs with a greediness I never would have imagined from her, and my cunt gives another jolt, letting me know it’s far from finished with the two people in this bed.
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