A Week in the Snow

by Gwen Masters

  He sat back and looked at her. Her cheeks blushed scarlet under his gaze, but she didn’t try to close her legs. The muscles in her thighs quivered as he looked at her. Her carefully-trimmed pussy was already so wet, it was almost dripping. Her chest heaved as she waited for the touch she wanted so badly.

  Richard bent low between her legs and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. Rebecca reached above her and grabbed the headboard as his mouth hovered closer. When his tongue snaked out and touched the cleft of her pussy, she let out a long cry of desire.

  “Please do it,” she panted, any inhibitions long gone. “Please, oh, please. It’s been too long.”

  Richard didn’t make her wait. He recognised the desperation in her voice, so much like the sound of his own. His tongue dipped into her as he spread the lips of her pussy, the final secret of her body opening like a flower rising to meet the new rain. He pressed his tongue as deeply as he could, tasting the wetness of her before sliding his tongue up to touch the base of her clit. She went perfectly still at the new sensation, waiting for more.

  Richard slipped the tip of his tongue against the sensitive nub and pressed, moving slowly up and down, waiting for the reaction that told him he was doing the right thing.

  She started to tremble, the delight flooding her from the inside out. Her whole body tingled; her very skin felt alive. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, a mantra that kept pace with the stroking of his tongue. When that stroking became too fast, too hard, pushed her too close, she stopped talking and simply closed her eyes, raised her hips up to him, and let it happen.

  The orgasm shattered from her centre, a thousand pinpoints of light glistening in her head, the waves of it lifting her body even higher, closer to Richard’s talented tongue. She writhed under him but he held her hips, his tongue still working magic even though the goal had been reached. When she would have become too sensitive and stopped touching herself, Richard kept on, intent on driving her to another orgasm right after the first.

  She hadn’t thought it would happen again, but when it did she let out a wail of pleasure. The waves were higher this time, stronger, and her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. She let go of the headboard and instead grabbed his head, his hair thick under her fingers. She closed her legs around him, trapping him there until the last of the pleasure trickled away.

  When it was over she lay stunned, almost unable to move. Richard climbed on top of her and paused. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She reached for the purse she had placed beside the bed. She had been prepared for anything on this trip, but she had thought her preparations would be for Gene, not for this other man she hadn’t dreamed she would meet. She found what she was looking for and pushed thoughts of Gene out of her mind. She was quite happy where she was, thank you very much.

  Richard smiled as she held up a shiny condom packet. “I’m on the pill,” she explained, “but we haven’t had that very important talk about histories, so…”

  Richard smiled and took the packet from her. She watched as he rolled the protection on, then opened her arms to welcome him against her.

  With one long, smooth stroke, he slid his hard cock into the place his tongue had just worshipped. The stretching, so foreign and so welcome, sent more shockwaves through her body. He held very still, watching her face, waiting.

  “More,” she murmured.

  Richard began to move, his cock inside her hotter than she had imagined, the size of him making her ache. She wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked with him, her hands discovering the muscles in his back. She loved the way they tensed and relaxed with each thrust, the way his buttocks hollowed out as he drove forward, then relaxed as he pulled out. Soon they found a rhythm that melded so easily, it was hard to tell where he ended and she began.

  She watched him as he fucked her. When he closed his eyes and lost himself in the pleasure, she relaxed her legs and looked down between them, where she could see his cock slide in and out of her pussy. When it came out, his dick was slick and shiny with her juices; when it slid back in, she noticed how their pubic hair pressed together, the curls tangling in a seductive dance. Soon he was buried deep and not pulling out anymore, stroking hard, and she wrapped her legs tighter.

  “You’re going to come,” she murmured into his ear. “I want you to come so hard. I want to feel your cock throbbing against the walls of my cunt. Give it to me, Richard. Give it to me…”

  Richard closed his eyes and threw his head back, gritting his teeth as the sensation spread up his spine. His thrusts became jerky and his knees started to slip on the sheets. She grabbed his ass to pull him harder into her, her calves now riding the small of his back, her body almost bent double. He thrust harder, so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.

  When he came, it was with a shout that echoed down the hallway of the house. He pushed as deeply into her as he could go, his dick completely buried in her warm, soft body. The orgasm seemed to go on forever. She held him so hard he couldn’t have moved away if he’d wanted to, and that alone made the moment last longer—he loved the fact she wanted his cum so badly she would hold him there until she got every last drop.

  When the final spasm of his body faded, he collapsed over her. Instead of pushing him off, Rebecca rolled with him, her legs still locked around his middle, his dick still inside her. She pressed her body hard against him, keeping him in, and she stared at his face until he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  “You…” he began to say, and she held a finger to his lips.

  “Hush.”

  He thrust against her once more. The aftermath of the orgasm made his body tingle. He gently pulled out of her and made quick work of getting rid of the condom, then wrapped his arms around her.

  Richard kissed her, a slow and lingering exploration. They lay together on the pillow, their bodies still humming with pleasure, and smiled at each other.

  Chapter Five

  “It’s hard to believe you haven’t done this in years,” she teased as they lay in his bed together, a quilt pulled over their naked bodies. “You gave quite a performance, Mr Paris.”

  “You did quite a good job yourself,” he said. His body still throbbed with the delicious aftermath of what they had done. He could hardly believe he had come twice. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done that.

  Rebecca’s body felt alive in his hands. She watched as he traced a finger down the middle of her chest, going as far down as he could before his hand met the quilt. Then he came back up, trailing that finger over her collarbone and under her neck, pausing to test the pulse at her throat.

  “Still pumping hard,” he whispered, and she smiled.

  “Are you proud of yourself?”

  “Why not?”

  Rebecca cuddled closer to him. The clock on the bedside table said it was now one o’clock in the afternoon. Nothing had moved outside. If the phone had rung, neither had heard it. The world seemed to have stopped completely, and all they had was time.

  Richard would have been at the newspaper office today, assuming the sheriff wouldn’t have yanked him off the streets as soon as he had heard the roar of his snowmobile headed for the town square. He would have worked on a few articles for next week’s paper, made small edits to the one going to print tomorrow, and spent time doing unnecessary work just to keep busy. He would have been the only one there, and he would have wavered between going crazy with the silence and being grateful for the solitude.

  Now he didn’t have to worry about either.

  “It’s hard to believe you showed up in my life less than a day ago,” he said to her now. “I’m not the kind of man who does this.”

  “I’m not the kind of woman who does this.”

  “Snow makes people crazy.”

  They grinned at each other, complete strangers who definitely weren’t strangers anymore. She loved the way he looked at her, as if he couldn’t get enough of the shape of a woman. When he slid his
fingertip down between her breasts again she stretched, her supple body a canvas before his hands. His eyes roamed every inch of her skin and then his fingertip followed. He smiled when his touch brought forth goosebumps, turning her perfect smoothness into perfect roughness.

  “I would much rather be with you right now than with Gene,” she said.

  “Gene is his name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened, anyway? He was your boyfriend last night and today he’s not. How did things change so quickly?”

  Rebecca sighed and shifted on the pillows. Thinking of Gene made her feel slightly guilty, but when she recalled his words from the night before, the guilt fled just as quickly as it had come. “He called me names,” she said. “And told me I was an idiot for not listening to him. It was just confirmation of what I already knew, in the back of my mind. He’s not the kind of man who would take kindly to a strong, independent woman.”

  “You’re definitely strong and independent,” Richard said.

  “You hardly know me,” she chided, realising how ridiculous that sounded, considering they were lying together naked in his bed.

  “Anybody who runs their own business has to have those qualities, and then some,” he said. “Man or woman, doesn’t matter.”

  “Gene seems to think only a man can do things that require such spirit.”

  Richard was now down at her knee, blowing breath over her skin and making her squirm. “How did you wind up involved with him, anyway? Surely he couldn’t hide the way he really felt for long.”

  “I was lonely, and he gave good phone.”

  Richard laughed out loud, his belly moving against her toes. She reached down and mussed his hair. “Well, it’s true.”

  “I believe you.”

  He kissed his way up her belly and peered at her from between her breasts. His hands slid up her arms, pinning her to the pillows, as his body rose over her. He was taller than her, perfect for kissing her while he slid into her. She kissed him back and laughed into his mouth when she felt his cock, hard, ready to go again.

  “So,” she whispered, “what about your sexual history?”

  He grinned. What she wanted was the same thing he wanted, but he had felt it a bit too soon to ask such questions. “I’m clean,” he said, dropping small kisses on her face. “I had a complete physical last year. I had never been tested before. I had always been in monogamous relationships. But when the doctor asked about it I thought, well, why not? So I had it done. Clean across the board.”

  She smiled up at him. “I get tested every year,” she admitted. “I mean, you never know, right?”

  “So, since we’re both clean…”

  “And since I’m on the pill,” she said with a grin.

  She opened her legs and he pressed between them, thrusting forward, filling her again. This time the sensation was more intense, the heat of her more evident. His moan of pleasure echoed hers. He began to move, very slowly at first, then picked up the pace.

  “Again?” she teased.

  “I can’t come again,” he admitted. “But there’s nothing wrong with making you come, is there?”

  She wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked with his thrusts. This time was slow and easy, now that the desperate need of earlier had been sated. There was no rush, only Richard’s constant motion and her answering one, rising to meet him when he slid in, angling her body so that her clit got attention, letting the orgasm build. She could have hurried it along by touching herself as he thrust into her, but she chose instead to let her body ride the wave of sensation. The orgasm would happen when it happened.

  When it did, it was just like their lovemaking—slow, easy, a full-body tingle that made her sigh with happiness. Richard watched her face as she came, and she found it made her feel even sexier than she already did. When she opened her eyes and smiled at him, he let out a long breath and shook his head in appreciation.

  “That was beautiful,” he said.

  They spent the day in bed, sometimes talking, sometimes watching television, sometimes creeping naked to the kitchen to get a snack from the cupboards. Mostly they touched each other, memorising angles and curves and the things that made goosebumps rise. They finally drifted off when the moon was high in the sky, streaming through the window to fall over the bed that had held only one for so long, but now held two.

  The early morning was crisp and cold when they stepped out of the house and confronted the snow. The sun was up and it was bright, but the heat from it did nothing to warm their little corner of Iowa. Richard led her to the garage, where she smiled at the snowmobile. It looked almost alive on the black skis, thrust slightly forward, as if sitting at the starting line of a race and ready to run hard. Richard checked the gauges and added a bit of gas from the container in the corner.

  The other vehicle in the garage was a truck, a newer model but well-worn. The tyres were huge and the bed was scratched. The interior lights of the garage glinted off the silver-grey paint. She looked in the window at the wealth of things in the cab—old newspapers, not one, but three travel mugs for coffee, sunglasses and reading glasses on the dash, and a few books with library stickers on the cellophane covers. There was an old blanket thrown on the back of the bench seat. A small rip in the leather showed from under the frayed corner.

  “This truck gets a lot of use,” she said. “You sure you’re a newspaperman?”

  He smiled as he got on the snowmobile. “I don’t have the patience for farming.”

  “But your house sits in the middle of all this farmland.”

  “Most of it is mine.” His voice was nonchalant. He turned the key in the ignition and the snowmobile roared before it settled down to a ready hum.

  “It’s yours?”

  “About seven hundred acres of it.”

  In Miami, land was precious. Seven hundred acres was a priceless commodity. “But you don’t farm it?”

  “Somebody else does. I lease out the land and by the middle of the summer I’m surrounded by corn and wheat. The newspaper pays peanuts, to be honest. Leasing the land keeps me in the black.” He patted the back of the machine and gave her a grin. “Get on.”

  Rebecca lifted her leg and slid on behind him. Her thighs were sore from a different kind of riding, and she groaned as she settled into the seat. She wrapped her arms around him and the snowmobile started to move forward, inching towards the snow-covered driveway. By the time they were out on what had once been the road, Richard had picked up speed, and Rebecca was glad for her coat and the thick gloves he had loaned her. They were far too big for her, but they kept the wind away from her hands, and she was toasty warm as they rode in ten-degree weather.

  “In Miami,” she said over his shoulder, “it’s about seventy degrees right now.”

  “But in Miami, you can’t do this.”

  Richard hit the gas. The world whooshed past them, and she hung on tighter. When they reached an open field, Richard suddenly turned the snowmobile, and they did a perfect doughnut on the white surface. Her heart thudded with excitement.

  “Wow!” Rebecca hollered. “More!”

  Richard accelerated to an impossible speed, then whipped the big machine to the side. It glided effortlessly, as if it were flying on air instead of snow. The whole world spun, and when it slowed down Rebecca laughed hard, so hard her belly hurt. Richard pulled to a stop and turned to grin at her.

  “I know what you want,” he said.

  She gave him an exaggerated leer. “I’ll bet you do.”

  “You want to rev my engine.”

  “How did you ever guess?”

  That’s how Rebecca wound up behind the handlebars of her very first snowmobile, plunging through drifts and throwing up rooster tails of white. She slid and shimmied and raced through the snow, revelling when she hit a dip and came up out of it with enough speed to make the machine roar. Richard told her where to stay, far away from the fences and low brush that could be so dangerous to a snowmobile and i
ts rider. Between his safe guidance and her impressive driving skills, they were having the time of their lives.

  When they were both winded from the excitement and pumping adrenaline, she slowed the machine and turned to Richard. She pulled up his helmet, yanked down his mask and kissed him, her warm tongue sliding between his cool lips. His hands slipped down between her legs and pulled her back, her ass tight against his open thighs, his hand warm on her pussy. He kissed her back, wanting nothing more than to take her clothes off and have his way with her, no matter how cold it was.

  “Wanna fuck?” she murmured into his mouth.

  “Here?”

  “I’ve never fucked in the snow.”

  He pulled her tighter against him. He had never done anything like that, even with all the ample opportunity that living in Iowa provided. The closest he had come to making love in the snow was stealing a kiss or two on a doorstep while the flakes came down around them. To take off his clothes—enough of them, anyway—and have sex in the freezing cold was just as new to him as it was to her.

  “Someone could see us,” he said, a last-ditch effort at sanity.

  “That makes it hotter, doesn’t it?”

  He grinned. “You’re going to get me in such trouble.”

  She climbed off the machine and turned to face him. Even under all those layers of toboggan and mask, he could make out her wicked grin. “Come get me.”

  He turned off the ignition as she took a step backwards. She took another step as he swung his leg over the snowmobile and stood up. By the time he took his first step towards her she was trying to run in the snow, sinking in almost to her knees, making a comical sight if he had ever seen one.

  “It ain’t like running on a beach, sweetheart,” he laughed, and started to chase her.

  He caught her not far from the snowmobile—his long strides overtook her smaller ones with little effort. As soon as he touched her, she twisted around and fell to the snow, laying back and looking up at him. Her coat was long enough to shield her from the cold wetness, and when she unbuttoned it and opened the sides, it was wide enough to protect him, too.