The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  “That’s not what I meant.” I bit the soft skin of her throat. “I was afraid that all I would fucking think about was the ways that I failed her. Because of you, I was reminded of all the good times that we had. Because of you, I realized how she always knew that I loved her in spite of what I said that day.”

  Her lips were so soft, still slightly chilled from being outside. But not for long. “So thank you.”

  She moaned against my tongue as I pulled her hips tighter against mine, my hand sliding up the long, high cotton legwarmers that she had on, disappearing underneath her sweater dress.

  A groan ripped from my chest. Soaking. Slippery. Soft.

  “I want to make love to you,” I rasped.

  Gasp or laugh—uncertain as I slid a finger inside of her. “I never thought… I’d hear those words… coming from your mouth.” Her sex swelled under my touch.

  “I never thought,” I returned, biting along the edge of her jaw, “that I’d feel you coming around my dick,” that time was definitely a gasp, “but miracles happen every fucking day, Sunshine.”

  I stole her words with my mouth, her arms wrapping around my neck as she began to grind against my palm.

  “Back pocket. Condom.” I bit her lip. “Now.”

  She found it and then went to work on releasing my throbbing cock. “If you are making love to me, shouldn’t it be in bed?” She ripped open the condom, sliding it down my length.

  I curled my fingers hard into that sweet spot of hers, her body seizing as pleasure quaked through it. “One miracle at a time.”

  I made sure her underwear was shoved to the side before my hand returned to her waist. “Legs around me.” I lifted her as she complied.

  I waited for those brilliant blues to find my eyes before I slid her slowly onto my length. I filled her—her eyes with desire, her cheeks with a blush, and her body with mine.

  I carried her around to the side of the fireplace, pushing her against it so that I could slowly rock into her. Like us, there was no in-between. If I wasn’t fucking her hard and fast to the point of tears, I was going to love her so soft and slow that she cried in frustration.

  And that’s what she did.

  I pulled the neckline of her dress down so that I could at least have one of her tits. Her flesh spilled into my hand as she arched against me, her nipple between my fingers—fingers that were always itching to touch her like this.

  “Please, Emmett,” she begged—and I was right there with her, my dick so swollen it should have split the condom.

  “Look at me.” Slow and steady. In and out. Always and for-fucking-ever. “I want to watch you,” in and out, “I want to watch as I make your soul shatter.”

  I felt her tensing, I felt her body begging me, waiting for me to let her go. Meanwhile, I burned for release, my dick slipping in and out like she’d rubbed butter on me instead of a condom. Each time I pushed in, I felt the resistance of her muscles, clenched—on the edge—waiting to explode.

  “Ally,” I rasped, licking a tear from her cheek, “I love you.”

  And like a crystal shattering in slow motion, I watched her orgasm splinter her, her eyes never leaving mine. Christ, it happened so slowly and I could see on her face how fucking incredible it felt—fireworks in slow motion, one burst after another.

  She didn’t make a sound, her mouth parting wordlessly, her body a symphony of seismic waves that I finally succumbed to. Pushing completely into her, I froze as my orgasm erupted from me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t need to thrust any more. Like a drum, my release beat into her, steady pumps of my desire pouring out of me.

  One day I’d fucking pour into her with nothing holding me back. One day when I wasn’t selfish and determined to keep her all to myself.

  On legs that I wouldn’t admit were shaking, I carried us to the couch, collapsing with her on top of me. We were still dressed, our clothes bunched between us; I was still buried inside of her because that was where I fucking belonged.

  “I love you.” She sighed into the crook of my neck.

  “Thank God,” I turned and kissed her forehead, “I’m yours.”

  “I WANT YOU TO KNOW that Chance and I are ok,” she said softly.

  With everything that happened with Miriam this weekend and then my having to be in Denver for a few days to deliver snowboards, the situation with Chance had been put on the back burner. She was his baby sister though; I knew they had to have spoken since the day he tried to rearrange my face. I guess I’d just been afraid to know of the outcome.

  “You are? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, surprised.

  The low melody of Granger Smith’s latest hit played on the radio as we drove towards the Pub where Wyatt and Channing were having a small engagement get-together.

  “I should have never been a problem between the two of you. And I didn’t want him and me being ok to be the only reason you decided it was ok to be with me,” she reasoned.

  I laughed because sometimes my sunshine had no idea just how fucking important she was to my world.

  “Babe,” I was still chuckling—her perplexed face not helping, “I’ll admit that I’m a slow, stubborn fucking learner, but as close friends as I am—was—with your brother, it only took me a few minutes of being out your door to realize that I wouldn’t have changed a goddamn thing I did or felt when it came to you.” I reached for her hand. “Chance could have damned me to eternal punishment like Prometheus, chained to that rock, having him beat my face in every day only to have it heal overnight, the torture repeated forever—and I still would have taken your fucking fire and your love.”

  “Greek mythology? And here I thought you were just a sexy, stoned snowboarder.”

  “Well, stories of eternal damnation have always resonated with me. Although, I’m glad to know that this won’t be the case.”

  “If you’re going to continue to reference your eternal self-punishment—that I refuse to let happen,” I glanced over to her, “who says I won’t chain you to a rock?”

  God, I loved that little bit of devil in her angel eyes.

  “Who says I wouldn’t enjoy it if you did?” I teased back.

  The parking lot was packed, the bar even more so. For a Canadian, the damn pro made a lot of friends quickly.

  This was the first time she and I arrived in public together—aside from the grocery store. And I was going to make sure the whole fucking room knew it. To say we got a lot of stares walking into the Pub, my arm strapping Ally to my waist, my hand just barely resting on the top of her ass, would be an understatement. Most were from women whose faces were vaguely familiar and whose names I’d probably never known.

  So, I held her tighter, bending down to kiss the top of her head. With other women, I smiled because I knew that they were mine. With Ally, I smiled because I knew that I was hers. She felt the gazes, too, moving deeper into my shoulder. She tipped her head up to mine and I knew what she wanted: my declaration.

  But before my lips could brand hers, I saw the one person that we both knew needed to be addressed first.

  Pride sat in the corner, talking quietly to Frost, but as soon as we came into view, his expression darkened. Not murderously—luckily for me. But it certainly wasn’t a warm fucking welcome.

  “If he’s not nice to you, I’ll beat him,” she whispered to me, half-joking.

  “If he’s not fucking nice to me, I won’t give a fuck,” I tipped her chin up, “because I still have you.” Settling for a kiss on her forehead, we were first assaulted by the bride and groom to be.

  “Congrats, Lil.” I wrapped my arm around her. “Olsen.”

  He shook my hand, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And I knew I was looking at my future. “Those Ryders really do know how to do a number on your heart, eh?” Olsen said with a grin.

  Kind of wanted to punch him—mostly for the Canadian fucking ‘eh,’ partially because he was rubbing my words to him from a month or so ago back in my face. And that feeling was what told
me that this fucker was going to fit right in.

  I stayed for another minute until Ally was in deep discussion with her sister before I made my way to the rest of the SnowmassHoles, pausing briefly at the bar to take care of a little something I had planned for my girl.

  “As much as I would love to sit back and enjoy the show,” Frost drawled when I got there, “I’m experimenting with something and my unknowing and unwilling subject just walked in.” With a dark look, he stalked off.

  “Pride.”

  “King.” My name not completely filled with disdain. It was a start.

  And he, just like his name, sat and waited for me to grovel, like he’d done nothing wrong.

  But I wasn’t going to fuck around. The last thing I would ever let him think was that I thought I’d done something wrong in falling for her. “I’m not sorry that I found her.”

  He nodded. “And I’m not sorry I beat you for it.”

  “We good?”

  The fact that he then handed me a drink was promising. He bent forward when I took the glass from him.

  “You disrespect her, I’ll kill you. You hurt her, I’ll kill you. You look at another fucking woman, I’ll kill you.”

  “And what if I love her? If I worship the ground she walks on? If I marry her?”

  His jaw ticked. “Then, I’ll fucking learn to live with it.” He finished his drink. “But if you say the word marriage to me again before I get over letting this Canadian fuck-‘eh’ claim my other sister, my fist will have another word with your face.”

  “Noted.”

  Her hand in mine came a second before she addressed her brother. “Chance.” She squeezed my hand. “Are you behaving?”

  “Of course not,” he smirked. “But I am keeping my hands to myself.”

  He stood and pulled her into his arms. He looked at me as he asked her, “you sure this is what you want?”

  Ally pulled back and playfully smacked him. “Yes! Are you sure you can handle it?”

  He sighed dramatically.

  “Ally!” Jessa rushed over before Pride could respond—and apparently before she realized that he was the one we were talking to.

  Awkward silence was one thing. Angry silence was a whole different story.

  “I didn’t realize…” she mumbled. “You know what, I’m going to get a drink. I’ll chat with you in a little bit.”

  “Don’t worry about it, J-bird.” Shit. “I was just leaving.”

  J-bird. His nickname for Jessa in high school; a term of endearment back then. But now, the coldness with which he’d said it even made me wince. I gave her credit though, she and her bright pink hair didn’t fucking flinch. I knew what went down between the two of them all those years ago, even though he hadn’t spoken of it since. But I didn’t know what the fuck this was.

  “I’m sorry, Jess,” Ally said softly, hugging her friend.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” She laughed like it was nothing, but I was the one who could see her face; that shit wasn’t nothing. But it was also none of my business; I was already on thin-fucking rope with Pride. “Anyway, I just saw the sign-up sheet and I couldn’t believe—“

  “That I wasn’t on it?” Ally finished for her, giggling. “I know. We got here and then I was talking to Chan and then I didn’t want to leave Emmett alone for too long with my brother. I’m going to go—“

  “No!” Jessa was about to give me up. “I mean yes, I guess I couldn’t believe that you weren’t on it, but what I really couldn’t believe was that he—“ she paused to stare at me for emphasis, “—was.”

  Ally spun to face me. “What?!”

  “Surprise.” I grinned back at her.

  “Wha—I don’t understand.” She was so fucking adorable when she was confused and surprised.

  “Tonight, sunshine, I’m singing you a song.”

  And because I was the fucking King, the host called my name right at that perfectly-timed moment.

  Just kidding. Pure fucking luck that he called my name. But I was ready.

  I pushed her chin up and mouth closed with one finger, kissing those perfectly radiant lips.

  “This one is for you, Ally Ryder,” I said into the mic, looking straight at her.

  I didn’t address the crowd because I didn’t give a shit about them. I didn’t look into the crowd because I didn’t care who was watching or who saw or what females were intrigued about how I was going to make an ass of myself up here.

  I was King of the Mountain. I was not King of the Mic.

  That was for damn sure.

  Thankfully, the perfect song happened to be a tune that even a fucking monkey could carry.

  “I love you,” I rasped as the chords began to play. I only looked at her. Her hand that covered her mouth because she was still in shock. Her eyes glistened because I didn’t do grand gestures. Except for her.

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

  She burst into tears.

  “You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, babe, how much I love you. Please tell me forever, you will stay.”

  I changed the lyrics, too, because I didn’t give a fuck about them either.

  “I’ll always love you and make you happy, if you will only say the same…”

  I made it through one verse and into the first line of the chorus again before my sunshine was on stage with me and in my arms.

  And so ended my first—and hopefully fucking last—karaoke performance of my life. I don’t think the crowd was too upset—the way they cheered as I let the mic slip to the floor so that I could hold my girl tight as I kissed her.

  “Forever, Emmett.” She murmured—half laughing, half crying—against my lips. “Forever, I’ll stay.”

  “Good,” I whispered back, “because the song was just for show. You’re mine. Forever. You don’t have a choice.”

  She burst into laughter—and so did I—as I carried her off the stage to the sounds of cheers and applause.

  “Are you sure you’re not my knight in shining armor?” she asked just before we were bombarded by all of our friends.

  I laughed and kissed her hard—the kind of kiss that I’d saved while we were on stage because her brother was in the crowd.

  “Sunshine, I’ll be whoever you fucking want me to be as long as I’m yours.”

  Who was he?

  Emmett Jameson.

  King of the Mountain.

  King of my Heart. Body. And Soul.

  TWO SISTERS. TWO SNOWBOARDERS.

  One fucking failure.

  Sixth shot. Tullamore Dew because I was feeling adventurous.

  And because I was feeling vindictive.

  I swear, I was happy for them—my sisters. I loved them more than life, not that I’d been so good at showing it lately, but I would do anything for them; I would die for them. But my sisters were riding off into the sunset—one of them with one of my best assholes, I mean friends, and what was I doing?

  Fucking failing.

  I never failed; that’s why they called me ‘Pride.’ I always came out on top and you can be damn sure that my attitude reflected that.

  Until the fall.

  So, here I was, my career over. My days spent in a marginally enjoyable state of complete intoxication and careless fucks with women I didn’t even remember; the type of lifestyle that Frost had perfected a long time ago and provided on request.

  But that wasn’t enough.

  That wasn’t enough misery.

  Now, J-bird was back.

  Jessa Lynn Madison. Was. Back.

  The goddess with pink hair, the perfect body, and a penchant for reminding me that the price of the best fuck of my life had been my fucking heart.

  She was the girl who’d held my heart in the palm of her hand just as tightly as her body had gripped my dick. And then crushed it.

  My heart. Not my dick. Thankfully, that shit was still in perfect working order; I made sure of that on a daily basis.

  �
��Why are you here?” I growled angrily as my hands locked onto the bar on either side of her, pressing my front flush against her. I was drunk. And I’d been waiting.

  She didn’t try to turn; she knew better. Her gaze remained on the bartender who was at the other end of the counter getting her drinks.

  “Because Ally is my best friend,” she said with a tight coolness.

  “Don’t be fucking smart with me,” I growled. “Why are you back in Aspen?”

  “For work. And because this was my home, too.”

  “Not anymore, sweetheart. This town has always belonged to me.” And the other SnowmassHoles.

  “What do you want, Chance?” She huffed. The subtle movement brushing her ass against my dick. “You’ve said your piece. I’d hoped eight years was enough but I understand. You hate me. I get it. I’ll stay away from you and you stay away from me and that will be the end of it.”

  The slight turn of her head gave my lips perfect access to her ear.

  “Oh, J-bird.” I grinned. “That will never be the end of it. I’m not staying away from you because I’m not done with you,” I promised darkly as she sucked in a breath. “You haven’t suffered nearly enough yet.”

  “Chance, I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  I could hear how much she meant it, but that didn’t stop the rage that spilled through me like a match on gasoline.

  I hated pity. Fuck pity. That was all I got since I’d come back. That was why I fucking left in the first place. I didn’t care what her apology was for; all I heard was pity.

  “Don’t ever say those words to me again. You don’t get to say those words to me.” My hands dug into her hips, pulling her back against my rock-solid cock. It made no difference to my argument, I just wanted to feel her ass against me harder because a part of me only remembered one thing about Jessa Madison—and that was how good it felt to be inside of her. “The only ‘sorry’ you get to be, is the sorry that I’m going to make you.”

  And I was going to make her sorry. Especially after seeing how those tits of hers hardened under that fucking hippie dress as soon as she felt me behind her. And I was going to enjoy every fucking second of my retribution.