The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  About to relish in how uncomfortable I was making her, she turned and walked around to the other—open—side of the bed, slipped off her shoes, and climbed on. Moving closer, she stopped at a safe but reachable distance from me.

  “I can’t believe…” She trailed off, her voice strained.

  Sighing, my eyes drifted shut, not wanting to see sadness on her face as she looked at me. That would hurt far worse than the fucking bumps and bruises I had right now. I was shocked when I felt the bed move, but instead of the cold against my face, I felt her fingertips trailing over my swollen and bloodied skin, assessing the damage.

  I stopped breathing because it was too big of a distraction from her touch. Gentle, soft, and kind—just like she was—her fingers ran along my jawline. I could feel in each spot where there would be a bruise by the morning.

  But they didn’t stop there. Moving along the sides of my neck, she had to have felt the heavy gallop of my heart as it raced for more of her touch. Slowly over my collarbone and down onto my chest and ribs, they continued their exploration. More bruises.

  After jamming my hip into the table, I lost my balance and fell back onto the ground. If I hadn’t been so surprised by it, I would have been up in half a second, but the shock kept me down and then his kicks to my stomach kept me there. Not for long, but long enough.

  “Did you break anything?” she asked, feeling my left ribs which caused me to wince.

  “No.” Not this time, I almost added, but there was no reason she needed to know that now. “Nothing broken. Just bruised.”

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  Forget not wanting to answer, her hands moving over my chest made it impossible. She wasn’t assessing for damage anymore. She was assessing for herself. The way she touched me, lingering on every ridge of my abs and then hesitantly brushing over my nipple. She had never been with a guy before… well before I ice-fucked her. What did I expect?

  “Can’t say I’m in the best shape for you to be admiring me right now, Priss,” I rasped and immediately her hands pulled back in embarrassment. I didn’t want her to stop, but I needed her to. She was too easily making me forget my injuries and remember that she was here. In my bed. With no rules.

  “We fought. Over Lila and her mother,” I continued. “But it’ll be over soon.”

  “Does this always happen when he is here?” she murmured.

  There was no point in lying now. My eyes cracked open to see her pull her knees against her chest. “Yeah.”

  “Who takes care of you afterward?”

  I wanted to kill Stone. Not because of what he did or would do to me. But because what he did to me caused the fucking heartbreak on Tammy’s face. I’d kill anyone who brought her that look.

  “Who, Nick?” she repeated insistently.

  This time I laughed knowing the pain that it would cause. “No one. I can take care of myself. It’s just a few bruises.”

  “A few bruises? Are you serious?” She gasped and stammered. “You can barely move—barely breathe. You are lucky nothing is broken, and I have a feeling that’s not from a lack of attempt on his part, but more from lessons learned on yours.”

  I just groaned incoherently, as I was unwilling to admit to anything.

  I felt her get up, my eyes painfully cracking open to see her heading for the bathroom. Maybe she was giving up already. That would be easy.

  The bed dipped again with her weight, but my eyes only opened when I felt her fingers thread through mine. Warmth. She had a wet washcloth and was carefully wiping one finger after another, gently brushing against the cracked knuckles until all of the dried blood was gone.

  She may be able to wash the blood off of my hands, but she couldn’t wash the sin from my soul.

  Case in point: every tug of the material down my finger I felt pull straight on my dick.

  My hand drifted over myself, trying to conceal the rising covers. I may have said ‘no rules’ to get her to go home, but I wasn’t planning on jumping her. Not that I really could in this state, no matter how much I wanted to.

  She reached for that hand too, the backs of her knuckles brushing against my throbbing cock. I let out a pained groan and she immediately dropped my hand.

  “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Is something broken?”

  “No,” I replied with a voice strangled with desire. “Trust me, I wish it was.”

  Of course, little Miss Innocent only then realized what she’d touched—and what she started—a blush covering her cheeks.

  “You know your whole body turns that color?”

  “W-what?”

  “When you blush, your entire body flushes pink.” I smirked. “I always wondered if it went farther than your cheeks, and it does. Down over your perfect tits. Painting over your perfect stomach. All the way down to that perfect virgin pussy of yours, Priss. All the fucking way,” I growled, assaulted by the memories.

  She just stared at me, her reddened lips parted in shock.

  Sighing, I rested my head back against the bed and said, “You should really go, Tammy. I’m not in the mood. I need…”

  You. I wanted to say but didn’t. This was already too fucked up. My life was too fucked up. And she was already far deeper into my shit than she deserved.

  “What do you need, Nick?” I heard her melodic whisper. I couldn’t look at her because those green eyes would pull the truth right out of me like sunshine pulls oxygen from the leaves.

  What did I need?

  I needed to touch her. To feel her come apart underneath my fingers.

  I needed to know that I could create something beautiful with these hands that would always be stained with the actions of my past no matter how much she tried to wash them away.

  My eye caught the damp, folded washcloth that was tinted pink with blood and anger seared through me. Just like that cloth, she might be able to wipe away my pain, but only by taking it on herself.

  “Touch yourself,” I answered tightly.

  Her jaw hit the ground like I’d shot her instead of demanding her pleasure.

  “Go, if you want. But if you want to stay, you need to make me forget that I can’t have you,” I said sharply, daring her to question me.

  She didn’t respond. She also didn’t make any move to leave.

  “Take off your jacket,” I instructed, not willing to wait for her agreement or denial. If she didn’t want this, she was free to leave.

  I didn’t just want her pleasure. I wanted it to come from me even though I wouldn’t—couldn’t—touch her. I wanted to watch her obey me as she came apart. I wanted just this small piece of her knowing I couldn’t take more.

  She slid off the bed and my heart stopped, thinking for sure that she was going to walk out the door. It was the most rational; it made the most sense. But then she just stood there, looking at me with big nervous eyes that were flooded with hunger for a second before she tugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. My heart thudded violently knowing that this was happening. Meanwhile, my dick jerked as she revealed her blush-stained shoulders and hard nipples that rose against the fabric of her tank top.

  “Slide your top down.” Still no hesitation as she let the straps fall from her shoulders, reaching up to tug the fabric down over her tits. My cock screamed in agony seeing those dusky pink nipples pop out eagerly for my eyes, begging to be licked, sucked and fucked.

  “Fuck, your tits are gorgeous, Priss.”

  Her chest rose and sunk jaggedly with each breath, her desire weighing her down. She didn’t want the rules any more than I did. Not her. Not now. And not with me.

  This was my Tammy. And yes, for this one fucking moment, she was mine.

  “Pants and underwear off,” I growled at her, my hand coming up to cup over my raging cock. She was all it wanted—which meant that for the past few weeks, it had been sorely and painfully neglected like never before. It pulsed under my touch, wanting to feel her lips around it, wanting to feel the fullness of her tits
smashed on either side, needing to slide into the untouched heat of her cunt.

  I held my breath waiting for it though—for her senses to come back to her and send her running from my presence. But with each determined movement that revealed more of her perfect flesh to me, the possessiveness inside me welled. This was my Priss. My Tamsin. Here, with her hair down, her body flushed with desire for me, her heart racing because of me, beautiful, confident, and begging me to let her feel everything that sense would hold hostage.

  “Cup your tits,” I instructed, watching her fingers twitch before they came up and weighed the heavy mounds. “Now, pretend your hands are mine.”

  Her eyes flared as those lips parted. I watched her swallow in between her shallow breaths, my dick pulsing in my grip. Those innocent, heady eyes fell so damned enticingly as her hands began to comply.

  My hand began to slide ever so slightly along my dick, moving unconsciously as she kneaded her flesh. “You know how much I want to touch them, right? Taste them?” Her gasp turned into the fucking sexiest blend of a sigh and a moan and I let out a pained laugh. “Nipples, Tam. I want you to pinch them for me.”

  “Nick…” she moaned, tweaking the sensitive flesh between her fingers just like mine itched to do and squeezed.

  “Fuck, you are so perfect,” I rasped. “Do you do this? Do you touch yourself, Priss?”

  She bit her lip and I knew what the answer was.

  “Do you pretend that it’s me?” I demanded as need obliterated every other ache. “Because I sure as hell do…”

  Her eyes flashed open, dark and straining with a desire she’d never let herself feel before. Still, she looked free. Free to want. Free to need.

  If I wasn’t beaten to a bloody pulp—and she wasn’t so goddamn untouchable—I would have fucked her. I would have buried my hard, angry cock so deep inside her and fucked all of her rules that tried to keep me away.

  “Do you think of me when you do this?” I craved to hear her voice, to hear she wanted me, broken shards and all.

  “Y-yes.”

  Fuck. My dick jerked again. Her small moans were sliding over me like it was her mouth. “How often?”

  “Every time,” she whispered shakily, fondling herself.

  “Christ,” I spat so forcefully that she jumped. “What do you think of?”

  I was torturing myself, but I didn’t care. Her rules were crashing down around us and I wasn’t going to stop until I made her whole world shake.

  Tammy’s hands faltered on her tits but she didn’t stop. “Your hands all over me. Your mouth on me like that first night. The things your tongue—” She broke off with a moan, teeth sinking into her lip. I choked as her desire ran down her thighs and dripped onto my bed. “I think of the things that I’ve heard you do… with other women… a-and I imagine you doing them to me.”

  Jesus Christ I was going to come.

  Seeing her bared like this to me—not just her body but her soul—it was more than arousing; it was fucking nirvana.

  “I imagine the sound of your voice, whispering… dirty… naughty… things to me.”

  “Like how every time my dick touches someone, I think about you?” I ground out. “How I compare them to you—the one woman I never had—even though I have no fucking clue what you feel like?”

  My breath came in harsh, regimented bursts, like an army marching into a battle I wasn’t going to win—that never happened for me, but fuck if I wasn’t going to go out gloriously.

  “You want to know what it feels like to know that my mouth has been the only one to taste you? You want to know how many times I’ve jacked off based on that thought alone? Or the thought of eating your sweet cunt for days on end until you become the new fucking base to my food pyramid?”

  “Nick!” she gasped my name and her hands froze, her eyes springing open as red burst like fireworks into her cheeks. I knew she’d almost come, without even touching herself. And I didn’t want that. I wanted her touching the slick pink heaven between her thighs. I wanted to watch her soak her own fingers.

  “Touch your pussy.” My voice didn’t even fucking sound like me anymore. I sounded like a fucking panting teenager with a voice that was too deep and too wobbly to be attractive. Thankfully, she didn’t notice. She was too distracted by the request. “Do you know how wet it is? I can fucking see it from here, dripping all over my bed because it’s so hungry.”

  Her right hand slid down off her nipple, the taut peak bobbing its goodbye, and trailed down over the flat plane of her stomach to the part of her that I’d avoided focusing on so that I didn’t come all over myself before she had the chance to.

  I felt my heart slam to a halt as her fingers gingerly slid between her perfectly shaven pussy that was soaking with need. My teeth clenched when she gasped, brushing over her baby pink clit that swelled proudly with desire. I grimaced, watching only two of them disappear when I would have demanded she take four.

  “Put those fingers inside of you—all the way.” My dick jumped as I saw her hand angle to comply; her mouth parting when they were fully seated, her palm grinding against her clit. “That’s it, Priss. Get them nice and fucking soaked,” I growled, entranced by her fingers disappearing into her cunt. “Fuck. Take them out and rub your clit. The only thing that gets to be inside you when you come is me.”

  Her fingers moved faster and so did my heart. It was a race to see which of us would explode first.

  “Nick,” she gasped my name. “I’m… so… close…”

  “That’s it, Tam,” I said hoarsely, mesmerized by her fingers that slipped and slid over her reddened clit frantically. She was so wet; barely a flick and it would slide back and forth—the little bud that belonged to me. Meanwhile, my dick screamed that if I didn’t let it come soon, it was going to fucking revolt and never work again “Fuck, gorgeous, come for me.”

  Her legs trembled to hold her up as her fingers moved frantically over her pretty weeping cunt. My mouth watered remembering how fucking sweet her cream tasted on my tongue.

  She let out a strangled cry of my name as she shattered. Her hips rocked against her fingers, her other hand squeezing tight on her tit. I saw every quaking muscle in her perfect body as her climax consumed her.

  Fuck her rules and fuck the cage she’d built around herself.

  She was so goddamn beautiful when she let herself free.

  As she shuddered, riding back down from her high, she sucked in air on my name over and over again, each strangled breath was like a direct stroke over my cock.

  “Stop,” I bit out as her hand slid out of her sopping pussy; her eyes widened like she was caught doing something wrong. “Give me your hand.”

  I held mine out, demanding the fingers that had been on and inside of her. Her hand shook as it rose to mine. I yanked it to my mouth, not caring that I caused her to topple over slightly—and slightly more within my reach.

  I waited for her eyes before I pulled those fingers inside my lips and sucked off every last succulent drop of her honey.

  What made it sweeter was the way she stared at me with wide green eyes—still hazy from her orgasm but not enough to hide her surprise. God, I loved shocking this woman. I loved shocking her right out of every fucking organized, perfect, unrealistic rule that she kept for her life.

  “Do you know how good you taste?” I asked, licking along the length of her finger again.

  She shook her head. So goddamn innocent.

  Too good was the answer. And anything that was too good would never be mine to keep.

  I dropped her hand. “You should go.” I was about to explode if she didn’t get off this bed. Hell, if she didn’t get out of this house now, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that she didn’t make it out of here a virgin.

  The other one percent being if I died from my fucking desire first.

  Immediately her hands covered herself in embarrassment and anger. I wanted to tear them away. She should never hide herself, especially in front of me.
>
  Too risky, Frost. Keep your bloody fucking hands and dangerous feelings to yourself.

  “[She] told herself likewise not to hope. But it was too late.

  Hope had already entered…”

  —Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

  HE WAS RIGHT—I SHOULD go.

  My whole body hummed with pleasure and peace that it hadn’t felt except for the last time with him. I wondered if, when I walked out his door, I would feel embarrassed about what I’d done—about touching myself in front of him at his command.

  No. I didn’t think I would.

  Especially when I could see how hard and desperate he was, how lust looked like it might bleed from his eyes and how the most pained part of his body was the thick ridge standing up under the sheet. All because of me. I shivered with how powerful and desirable I felt.

  But Nick? He closed his eyes, expecting my compliance and my retreat.

  Instead, confidence and the need to make him feel this good motivated me.

  Too bad, he’d created this monster.

  “What about you?” I asked, my eyes drifting down to his waist where four people could have camped underneath the tent from his erection. I licked my lips, needing to taste him.

  “What about me, Priss?” he sighed harshly.

  I watched my hand move almost in a daze, reaching for the swollen length underneath the covers that was there because of me—that wanted me. He rocketed up off the bed, as my hand closed over him.

  So hot. And huge.

  Did I really know what I was signing up for right now? I’d never touched a guy there. I’d never even seen a non-family member male fully naked before.

  Strong fingers clamped around my wrist, yanking it away from him. He hissed, but I wasn’t sure if it was from pain or pleasure.

  “What are you doing?” Nick growled at me, his white-hot eyes staring me down like I’d just stabbed him. “I said you should leave.”

  “I…” I trailed off nervously just for a moment. “I don’t want to leave. I’m not leaving. Not like this.”