The Winter Games Box Set

by Rebecca Sharp

  “You don’t even know me. How did you get here? Are you with friends?” I asked in rapid fire, narrowing my gaze on her hoping to get some answers to sort out the entrancing enigma in front of me.

  She wasn’t from around here—I would’ve remembered seeing her before—which meant she had to have come here with someone she knew—someone who was a safer bet than asking a complete stranger for a ride.

  Her eyes changed slightly—as though turning from liquid clear to clear as ice.

  “I’m sure I can find someone else willing to give me a ride.”

  Fuck.

  “Wait,” I bit out as she moved to disappear into the crowd. “Let me give these to my friend. I’ll be right back.”

  My body was fucking humming at the thought of more time in her presence, especially the way she’d looked at me.

  She didn’t need a hero—but she wanted me.

  My brain knew she was bad news. And she knew it, too. She knew from the second I reached out to help her, my hero instinct advertised in my helping hand, that I’d never be okay with the thought that some other less-chivalrous moron would be taking her home—and trying to take her.

  Didn’t matter that I’d seen how she could take care of herself. Didn’t matter because I wasn’t that guy. Not for better but for fucking worse, I was the guy who dropped off drinks to his friend—who was thankfully engrossed in conversation with some blonde. I was the guy who murmured some lame excuse because I didn’t want Shawn thinking I was also trying to get laid as I bailed on him.

  I was the guy who walked back to the breathtaking warrior and escorted her through the crowd like she was a goddamn princess, ignoring her entertained smirk and the way she chuckled when I put my jacket over her shoulders as we walked out into the cold and headed for my truck.

  I knew nothing about this woman except the one thing that should have killed any desire I had for her—she wasn’t looking for a hero.

  Too bad I wanted to be hers anyway.

  “YOU DO THIS A LOT?” I asked gruffly as my truck roared to life. “Ask random guys to take you home?”

  She shrugged noncommittally, a small smile playing on her lips like she knew what answer I wanted and what not answering did to me.

  “Alright, well, where am I going?” I turned out of the lot onto the main road toward downtown Aspen, figuring since she wasn’t a local, heading further outside of the town was probably not the direction I needed to go.

  “Home.”

  She licked her pink lips again and my fist tightened as need rocketed straight to my cock. Parts of me had no problem with taking her to my place.

  “And where is that?”

  “It’s your home, you should know,” she replied calmly, watching the white landscape pass by.

  Wait. What?

  I was surprised my foot didn’t slam on the brakes for how hard my thoughts crashed into one another.

  “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you—”

  “You’re taking me back to your place.” Teal gems glittered expectantly at me.

  Nope. Bad fucking idea.

  “Look, Miss…” I trailed off realizing I didn’t even know her name. “I’m trying to be a good guy here, but I’m not taking you back to my apartment. I’m taking you home. I’ve had a few drinks. You’ve had a few drinks.”

  “I had one drink. And it was seltzer water, if it eases your annoyingly chivalrous soul,” she retorted. “And I know you’re trying to be a good guy, but I told you, I don’t need a good guy. And the look in your eyes back there said that parts of you aren’t too interested in being the good guy either.”

  “Right, but I’m not going to take advantage—” I could barely focus on how the fuck I was supposed to turn down the most gorgeously infuriating woman I’d ever met. And that was why my body went on autopilot, making all the right turns to take us back to my apartment.

  “Of what?” She spun in the seat, moving freely because she hadn’t even put her seatbelt on. “I’m not drunk. And you didn’t save me back there so don’t think this is just some sort of grateful fuck.”

  “I’m not taking you back to my apartment,” I ground out.

  This time, when she shrugged, that sweater slid down off her shoulder like an accomplice to her attempt to coerce me. I wished I could say that seeing more of her skin, the hint of the soft swell of her breast, didn’t make me shift in my seat because my cock throbbed against my jeans.

  I was starting to regret not taking up several of the offers of one-night, momentary reliefs, but then I sincerely doubted they would’ve made any difference right now to how much I wanted her.

  “Okay, then you can just let me off here because I’m not telling you where I’m staying. I’ll just hitchhike back to my place.”

  With a muffled curse, I floored it through a yellow light, unwilling to admit that for the second time in under an hour, being a good guy was backing me into a bad boy corner with only one way out.

  “Do you always browbeat guys into taking you home?”

  “No,” she answered casually, staring out the window. “Usually they do it willingly. I have to say though, I’m enjoying the challenge.”

  “That makes one of us,” I grumbled.

  This was not how I pictured the night going. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fuck her. Christ, I’d wanted to bend her over the goddamn barstool and drive into her the second she’d put Mack to sleep. And it wasn’t even that I was against a one-night thing—but when it came to her I was.

  I knew what one night would do.

  One night with her would be like living one night as a king—nothing else would ever compare. No one else would ever come close. One night would ruin me for my forever girl.

  Making the few final turns to my building, she followed behind me in satisfied silence as we walked into my apartment.

  I lived in one of the nicer high-rises by the resort. Nothing crazy, but I liked a larger, clean space and the two-bedroom space was easier to afford when I didn’t spend money on too much else.

  “I like your apartment,” she said, and I didn’t miss the note of surprise in her voice.

  My place wasn’t very colorful. The white walls still the same from when I moved in. Dark wood accented the kitchen to my right. The only other things left to make the space pop were the furniture and the paintings.

  I couldn’t claim responsibility for the furniture; my sister worked for an antique store out in California and had shipped me a couple of pieces that I liked when I moved in. However, the artwork on the walls was all me—a few of my favorite impressionist paintings hung on the walls. Reproductions because I wasn’t making that kind of cash. I preferred the looser style of the paintings because they made me feel like music had been set to canvas.

  The two bedrooms were so I could claim one of them for my guitars, amps, and all band-related activities. The music room—as I referred to it—was off the living room to the right while I claimed the bigger bedroom on the left.

  “Not what you expected?” I set the keys on the kitchen counter and found my feet bringing me toward where she stood in the middle of my living room.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  The air hung thicker the closer I got to her like it was laden with gas, ready to burst into flames at the first hint of a spark.

  “Why me?” I rasped, searching her eyes, hating how it felt like I could see straight through to the center of her soul, and yet still not find any of the answers I needed.

  She bit down on her lower lip and I had to clear my throat to hide my groan as my cock jerked to be set free.

  “I wanted you. You wanted me.” She placed her hand on my chest and it took everything I had not to let the animal inside me devour her. She smelled like jasmine—strong, mysterious, sexy. “Not every fuck needs to turn into a fairytale.”

  I reached and gripped the edge of her chin, satisfaction ripping through me as I saw her breath catch. She played it off calm and cool, but she was just as affec
ted as I was right now. Her pulse thumped. Her skin was flushed. Goosebumps covered the silken column of her neck and her eyes grew hooded.

  Casual fucks don’t make you feel like this—like fate and magic appeared just to grace you with one night with someone.

  “What’s your name?” I demanded. Her eyes darkened, like a cloud passing between the sun and the sea. “My name is Kyle, and I’m not sleeping with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

  I had limits. I swore I had fucking limits to the lowest level of gentleman I was willing to go—and screwing someone without knowing her name was below that.

  Her lips parted for a second of silence before she replied with her eyes dancing, “Cinderella.”

  I growled as she defied me. Again. Everything that should have driven me farther away only served to pull me closer. I wanted to punish her for making me give into my baser needs. I wanted to punish her and then I wanted to claim her.

  I wanted to fuck her until she realized that she’d made a mistake thinking I wasn’t strong enough to keep her.

  “And if I said I wasn’t going to fuck you right now, Cinderella?” I whispered harshly, my lips so fucking close to tasting her juicy pink ones, wondering if her pussy was the same shade of swollen pink with the same ability to push me beyond my limits.

  “Then I’d say I’ll sleep on the couch,” she replied breathlessly, lust lighting through her eyes. And then with that same smile she’d given me just as Mack was about to fall, she added huskily, “Good thing I know you’re not going to say that.”

  Anger and lust blinded me as I crushed my mouth to hers and the desire that hung flammable in the air exploded. I didn’t care how soft her lips were, I wanted to punish her. I wanted to bruise them for taunting me—tempting me. But as soon as I tasted her, I clung to any reason whatsoever not to stop.

  She tasted like cool mint—fresh, clean, and with no trace of anything that would give me another clue about her other than that I wanted to taste more.

  I shouldn’t have tasted her because there was no stopping now. I was going to fuck the Cinderella with the clear Caribbean eyes because somewhere in the last few hours, I’d taken the step that took me out of my depth and out of my gentlemanly ability to refuse what we both wanted.

  My hands sunk into the short strands of her hair, angling her face so that my tongue could demand deeper. She moaned as I licked my claim to every corner of her hot, aggravating mouth. I was sure I’d sense some sort of victory on her part as soon as I kissed her—some clear celebration that she’d finally won me over.

  I didn’t find it.

  She kissed me back like she was just as desperate—like her words… her actions… had been over the top because this wasn’t a game—because she needed me and she couldn’t figure out why.

  She didn’t want to figure out why.

  She wanted to turn me into something—someone—she was comfortable with. And in turn, I wanted to give her everything she thought she needed to prove that she still wanted more—that she still wanted me.

  I drank down her impatient moans, my body tightening even further as her hands reached for the edge of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. With a feral growl, I bit down on that fat lower lip hard before I returned the move with her sweater, tossing it to the ground. Panting, my lips found hers and her arms wound around my neck.

  The cool metal against my chest registered two things. One, she hadn’t been wearing a bra. And two, she had her tits pierced.

  White spots flashed behind my eyes as I fought not to come right there.

  How? I wondered angrily as I devoured her mouth. How was it that I’d never wanted someone so fucking much who was so completely in the opposite direction of everything I’d been looking for?

  I’d never been with a girl that had anything lower than a nostril pierced and as my tongue stroked along the edge of hers, all I wanted was to run it back and forth over the joint between hard metal and her hot nipple.

  Her legs wrapped around my waist as soon as I lifted her, rolling her needy cunt against my dick as I walked us into my bedroom. It felt like I was holding fire—soft, tangible fire against me.

  I dropped her onto the bed because that was the only way I was getting her out of my arms long enough to take a look. Her eyes were glowing up at me and her lips were an even fuller, bloody red with what I’d done to them.

  Dragging my eyes down, I stared at her small breasts topped with peach-pink nipples. Silver rods with small balls at either end pierced through both tips. The sight made me harder than I’d ever been in my entire fucking life.

  “Did they hurt?” My fingers rubbed together, impatiently waiting to tug on the exotic treat they’d been given.

  She swallowed hard, dragging her eyes down from mine to my crotch and then back up again. “If I say yes, will you kiss them better?” she murmured, her voice thick and velvety with desire.

  I swore angrily.

  Was there a version of the fairytale where Cinderella kills the Prince? Because, if not, that shit was about to be rewritten.

  Bending over her, I snaked one hand up over her hard, flat stomach to cup the silken weight of her breast. Blood thundered in my ears as I kneaded the mound that easily fit in my palm before letting my fingers roll over the metal-studded peak.

  No wonder she’d done it. Cinderella bowed off the bed against my hand, demanding more. The movement brushed her other breast against my lips and with a growl, I closed my mouth over her nipple and sucked.

  Soft and hard.

  Hot and cold.

  She was every extreme that pushed me to the brink of mine. Angry determination fueled me. I didn’t care that I’d let her drive me to this point, I was going to return the favor by driving her out of her mind.

  I worked over her exotic tits until she was whimpering and jerking violently beneath me. Popping her nipple from my mouth, I dragged my tongue down over her stomach, enjoying how it quivered under the touch, until I reached the edge of her pants.

  I half-expected to find her bare and waiting for me as I stripped the black leather from her, but she wasn’t. She had on a simple thong with a wide elastic waist that rode up high on her incredibly muscular thighs.

  As I tugged them off, I couldn’t help but appreciate just how fit and strong her lower body was. I also couldn’t help but anticipate those legs being wrapped around my waist soon.

  I pulled her underwear off because I was a gentleman, but there was a part that wanted to rip and burn them because I didn’t even want to see Calvin-fucking-Klein’s name so close to the cunt I was about to make mine.

  My mouth watered at the slick, pink pussy in front of me. Just like her mouth, the pretty swollen lips were parted and begging to be explored with my tongue.

  My hands dug into her thighs and I bent forward to bite down on the smooth skin on the inside of her leg.

  Gasping, she pushed up to her elbows. “I want you to fuck me,” she demanded, her eyes glinting with crazed need.

  Even though my cock agreed, I found myself smiling because she may have instigated this, but I was in fucking control right now. She wanted me, well, she was going to get me—but my fucking way.

  “And if I want to eat your needy wet pussy first?” Her eyes might have pulsed in defiance, but the part of her on display for me, dripped in agreement with my suggestion.

  “T-then I’ll leave.”

  Where there was only beautiful armor before, I now saw cracks. I saw through the depths that said my mouth on her was too much intimacy than was comfortable. That this hadn’t been as quick and careless of a decision as she made it out to be. She was just as fucking concerned with how bad she wanted me as I was.

  But instead of trying to get away from it like I had, she ran right to it in an attempt to fuck it out of her system.

  Too bad, Cinderella. You wanted to go to the fucking ball. Can’t ask the clock not to strike midnight now.

  “Good thing I know you’re not going to say that,”
I repeated back to her before I bent and took her whole pussy in my mouth.

  And she wasn’t. Not with the way she cried out in pleasure or the way her fingers curled into my hair holding me hostage to her slit.

  Fucking delicious.

  Soft and sweet, my tongue rode over her little clit, victory making me vigorous. Her moans and cries only pushed me harder, one hand snaking up to continue to explore one of her tits while the other reached alongside my tongue and shoved two fingers inside her.

  This was what she wanted. Hell, this was what I wanted, I finally admitted as I curled my fingers against her tight muscles and felt them clamp down as she exploded around my fingers.

  I felt her chest heave, gasping for air like she was drowning. I’d been drowning too and yet she still kept dragging me down—dragging me here. With her. So, I gave it back to her, biting down on the swollen bud as I pushed a third finger inside her soaked pussy.

  I smiled, feeling the instinctive resistance—too many sensations, too close to one another. I felt it and I pushed right through it. Shoving my fingers in and out of her, my tongue delved against her clit until she was screaming and crying and gushing against my tongue as another orgasm pulled her deeper below the surface.

  The fingers in my hair now pulled hard, forcing my mouth off of her as shattered teal flared down at me.

  “I need you to fuck me,” she said, the velvet gone from her voice, replaced only with hoarse need.

  I needed to fuck her, too, my dick reminded me, angrily caged and throbbing in my pants.

  I smiled because she wanted to be demanding, but really, she was begging.

  Slipping my fingers from her, I sucked her sweet juices from them while she watched before I stood and unbuttoned my jeans.

  She stayed frozen on the bed, watching me like a predator ready to pounce if I strayed too far, as I walked to my nightstand and grabbed a condom.