On the Edge (Winter Games Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “When we’re on the mountain, you will listen to me,” he growled, biting down on my lip at the same time as he pinched my nipple through my suit.

  Holy crap.

  Sharp pain, exquisite pleasure. I gasped as my body was overwhelmed with sensations: the heat from the water, the cold of the air, his mouth devouring mine, his fingers teasing my breast, turning me hot and cold and everything in between. I needed more.

  “Say it,” he commanded, his hand pulling back.

  “I will… listen to you…”

  My reward? His hand dove underneath the surface of the water, underneath the edge of my bottoms, and one finger slipped inside of me. He swallowed my gasp that turned into a moan as that finger curled against that spot inside of me that only he knew. I swayed, my head feeling light; my hands reached for the edge of the tub to steady me.

  “Fuck,” he rasped.

  Cold. Everything was cold – because Emmett was gone.

  He’d stepped at least three feet away from the tub, leaving me hanging on the edge. “I can’t… you were just…” Injured? “You are…” Chance’s sister?

  God, I was really getting annoyed with his reasons.

  He was the one to break our stare-down and stalk inside. Not so fast, there, King Emmett; this is my castle.

  I hopped from the tub, not bothering with my towel as I threw the door open. Startled, he spun around.

  “Where are you going?” I demanded angrily; he wasn’t walking away this time.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” His was voice low and grating.

  “A bikini.” Ok, it may have been the one I bought for spring break three years ago before Dylan and I were together; it may have been pretty small – but hey, it was spring break in Florida!

  “And did you actually pay for it? Or did they just make you one out of the scraps for a normal bathing suit?” he sneered.

  “I bought it.” I folded my arms over my chest, knowing what that would do for his view. Maybe just a little of throwing myself at him…

  He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I can’t… I have to get out of here.”

  “Emmett!” I yelled as he turned away from me again. Only once those dark, tortured eyes met mine did I say the words that I knew would cut ties with all thoughts of leaving. They better for they were going to cut into my soul.

  “I loved him. I loved Dylan.”

  I watched his possessiveness consume him. Anger overriding his misguided sense of respect for my brother. He was angry – and only partially because of Dylan; mostly because he couldn’t fight his desire any longer.

  A second later, his mouth was on mine. I dripped water from the hot tub onto the floor. The rest of it soaked into his clothes as he crushed me to him, his tongue punishing me for my admission. He kissed me as though he wanted to remove a layer of skin – anything that might have a trace of Dylan on it. To say it was rough was putting it mildly. To say it consumed me was the understatement of the century.

  “Did he kiss you nicely?” he taunted me.

  “Yes.” He growled and spun me away from him. It was dark out by now and with the lights on inside, all I could see was our reflection in the glass of the door: my hair piled on top of my head so it wouldn’t get wet, my tiny red bikini barely covering… anything, his hand gripped on my breast, the other planted on my hip, and his eyes waiting for mine as he bit into the skin of my neck.

  “I’m not nice, Ally.” He pinched my nipple hard again. I saw myself gasp and felt the pleasure that seared straight down to my sex.

  I rolled my ass back against his dick. “I didn’t ask you to be,” I returned with a strangled voice.

  He growled against my skin. Ripping my bikini to the side, his thumb rolled over my naked nipple. Waves of my orgasm lapped at my feet.

  “Not yet. Not allowed,” he demanded roughly.

  I whimpered, my head lolling to the side, giving better access to the side of my neck. His other hand drifted down over my core, palming me through the damp material of my suit.

  I ground my hips back against his erection, wanting him to be as crazed as I was. My punishment? He pinched my bare nipple and twisted.

  On the edge. Pleasure and pain. Heaven. Hell. Emmett. Only Emmett.

  “No.” His harsh command was the only thing that halted my orgasm.

  I gasped for air – breaths that he graciously let me take without being assaulted by the pleasure of his touch. He wasn’t gracious for very long.

  I watched his fingers bend and tuck underneath the edge of the bottoms of my suit. He bit hard into my neck as his fingers found my wetness.

  “Jesus, Ally…” His body shuddered against mine, knowing how much I wanted him.

  That finger returned inside of me and I felt the waves of my orgasm cresting again. “You’re mine.” His thumb rolled over my clit and my knees wobbled. “Say it.”

  I moaned, “Yours.”

  Another finger pushed inside of me and another brush of his thumb. I was so close. Which is why he froze, waiting just long enough for me to come back down.

  This was torture.

  “Say it.” I felt him rub his erection against me. Hearing I was his was having the same effect on him as his fingers were having on me.

  “Please—“ I tried to arch against him

  “Not fucking yet. Say it.”

  “Yours,” I murmured, ending on a gasp as a third finger stretched me. My muscles clenched around him, at first fighting the invasion and then begging for more. The pressure was too much and not enough all at one. I couldn’t breathe, I needed to come that bad.

  His hand began to knead my breast again. “Look at me.” Groggily, I raised my eyes to the window. “Say it one more time.”

  “Yours, Emmett. I’m—“ Shattered. He’d pinched my nipple and clit at the same time and I came, my body catapulting over the edge and exploding like a firework under his fingers. It was the second time that day that I’d had the wind knocked out of me. The second time my vision had gone black. The second time Emmett held me as my body fell apart and then tried to piece itself back together.

  This time, it was his fault though.

  Vaguely I saw the way my body convulsed in his arms, the way he looked at me with pure fucking possession as my core milked his fingers.

  “Mine,” he rasped into my neck, gently kissing the skin he’d been abusing only a few minutes earlier.

  Eventually, the waves subsided. I don’t know how long ‘eventually’ was, but that was beside the point.

  Carefully, he slipped his fingers out of me and righted my ‘scrap’ of clothing. He moved what could have only been half an inch away from me, but it felt like he’d torn a limb off, the loss was so great.

  “I should go.”

  I spun to face him, my hand reaching for the waist of his pants. “You’re not leaving like this,” I informed him as I palmed his arousal, forcing my eyes to remain steady when I realized just how large he was.

  “Ally,” he growled my name like a warning – or a plea.

  I would have to say it was a plea because he didn’t stop me. I kept my gaze locked with his, afraid if I broke it, he would disappear. I swiftly unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, my hand reaching underneath his boxer briefs to grasp his hard length.

  “Fuck…” His head fell back, eyes shutting briefly with pleasure and pain. When they opened again and met mine, I knew the fire inside of them had burned away whatever resistance he’d tried to hold onto. His hands gripped my face as his mouth claimed mine.

  I pushed his jeans over his hips, freeing his erection and my ability to stroke him.

  “You know how many fucking times I’ve imagined this, Sunshine?” he growled into my mouth. I’d just barely made it back down to earth and his words made my body shift as the pressure built inside me again. “How many times I pictured your face and your hands around me even when it was someone else’s?”

  I fisted him harder – both because I didn’t want to think abou
t anyone else touching him, but also because it was so hot to know he’d still thought of me the entire time.

  He groaned, his fingers pulling at my hair as he bit down on my lip.

  He wanted me to forget Dylan? Well, I wanted him to forget every other woman.

  I dropped to my knees – they were already bruised, what was one more hard landing on the wood floor? – my tongue shot out and licked over his head. “Mine,” I said as I looked up at him, watching his nostrils flare. “Say it.”

  His jaw twitched. I used his words – his torture – against him. But that was how we worked. We pushed because we were afraid to pull. We fought because we were afraid to lose. And then, we gave in because it would have been easier to stop breathing.

  “Yours,” he growled, his fingers digging punishingly into my scalp – not where it was bruised though. I made sure he saw my smile before I rewarded him, swirling my tongue around his tip as my hand pumped him again. The expletives that left his mouth were like little cheerleaders chanting my victory.

  “Again.” This time, I didn’t look up, I looked ahead of me, only now wondering how I was going to fit this thing into my mouth. Channing loved to tell me that I had a big mouth, but I wasn’t equipped for this.

  “Yours,” he swore.

  Here goes nothing.

  My tongue darted out to wet him as my lips pulled closed over his tip. My hand fed more and more of his hard length into my mouth. He was so hot and tasted so salty sweet. He throbbed against my tongue as it explored the length of him.

  He was saying words, but I wasn’t paying attention. All I knew was that a few seconds later, his hips began to move, thrusting his cock deep inside of my mouth. My hands reached for his hips to steady myself as I felt him lose control. Tears welled in the corner of my eyes as his tip brushed against the back of my throat. Delicious suffocation. The faster he moved, the more I needed his release. I needed to know what his wanting me tasted like.

  He yanked my head back. “I’m going to come…” And he clearly wasn’t planning on doing it inside my mouth.

  I watched one of his hands wrap around his length and begin to pump.

  No.

  My hand on top of his stalled his movement long enough for my mouth to engulf him again.

  “Fuck, Ally,” I sucked hard. I sucked so hard that if it wasn’t attached to him, I would have swallowed him whole. And he exploded with a shout – partially a curse, partially a groan – all because of me. The warm jets of his release coated and washed down my throat – salty, complex. He rocked into me and I sucked until there was nothing left.

  Slowly, I drew my mouth off of him and looked up. His chest was heaving. He’d been sweating so badly I could see the stains outlining his muscles through his shirt. His hands dropped from my head limply, pulling his pants back over his still-thick arousal as I stood.

  I met his gaze. The word ‘mine’ silently passing between us.

  He reached for his jacket and I turned to ice, thinking he was just going to leave, until the thing came flying at me. “Put it on.” Really, no please? “We should eat.”

  So that’s what the thing grumbling in my abdomen was trying to tell me. Breathing. Eating. All that fell to the wayside when it came to consuming him.

  “I do live here, you know. I have a room full of clothes,” I said as he washed his hands and my fingers began to unzip the navy track jacket.

  “Yeah? And are your legs going to make it up those stairs right now?” he asked. Unpacking the bag of takeout, he didn’t need to look at me to know he was right.

  Jerk.

  “Well, I’m not really that cold anyway.” Hah! Now what, King?

  Emmett

  I stared at the girl, watching her sass me when just a few minutes ago, those same red, swollen lips – courtesy of me – were wrapped around my dick, sucking on me like I was water and she’d been trapped in the desert for weeks.

  I shouldn’t have come in her mouth, but fuck, if that wasn’t the closest I’d ever been to Heaven. I couldn’t stop myself when it came to her.

  I shouldn’t even have touched her, let alone allow her to touch me. Ally Ryder made me weak. I wasn’t her hero. In fact, I was the opposite of Superman – her sun brought me to my knees.

  Later, when I was home, I would persecute myself and wallow in guilt. Later, I would wonder what Chance would think – would do – if he knew that my dick had been massaging the back of his little sister’s throat? If he knew that I was three-fingers-deep inside of her, inside his own house, watching in his windows as she fractured underneath my touch?

  I’d been fighting this for so long, now that I’d finally lost… well, I might as well enjoy the fucking fall. At least for tonight.

  So, I would think about of my grievances against myself later when the list was complete. There were hours left in the evening. I wasn’t done with her yet.

  I loved her sass. And I loved that she knew I would make her pay for it. I let my eyes slowly drift over the fucking scrap of red she had covering her. Her perfect tits were still hard against the fabric, maybe even hardening more as I glanced over them. And then, the bottoms… well, they were still darker in spots from being wet. And not from the hot tub.

  She held my jacket like she had the upper hand, so I gave her that smirk – the one that said she was provoking the King. Grabbing our sandwiches, I strolled over to her, watching as her eyes widened, glancing down to where I’d only partially done-up my jeans. Moving my arms to the side, I stepped so close to her that if she took a deep breath, her nipples would brush my chest. The fucking thought made my unbuttoned jeans uncomfortable. I bent my head towards her ear, whispering, “I don’t care if you’re cold. I wasn’t asking you to put it on for your sake. If you don’t though, the only thing I’ll be eating for dinner is you.”

  I salivated at the thought – the memory – and I waited there while she put my jacket on, zippering it most of the way up.

  Good. I wanted to save her for dessert.

  It could have been hysterical, the way we ate and talked casually – as though she wasn’t almost naked and I wasn’t completely aroused. I learned more about her parents and her life in Florida, her cousin Tyler; I could really see how much she cared about him.

  I also learned that it was her birthday next week. Her twenty-first birthday. I groaned, reminded again that she was a child compared to my almost thirty-year-old self. I couldn’t even fucking remember my twenty-first – probably because Frost had planned it. Which mean that I was probably drunk, stoned, and suffocating in pussy. It was probably a good thing I didn’t remember it – even though I wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that to his face.

  In return, I told her more about how I’d started my business – making snowboards for the SnowmassHoles. Once we’d starting winning locally and nationally, the word got out, and the rest was history. More or less.

  She asked about my childhood and I told her the sob story that every local knew. I was the son of the druggie who’d been sent here too late to be completely saved from his bad habits. She asked who Miriam was. I told her.

  I didn’t tell her why I wouldn’t see Miriam. Just like she didn’t volunteer why she and Mr. Shithead Surfer broke up. She had a polished view of the ‘bad boy’ that I was. I couldn’t tell her how truly and unforgivably despicable I had been. She was mine even though I wouldn’t be able to keep her and I couldn’t stand the thought of her seeing me the way I saw myself.

  We talked like we hadn’t been about to rip each other to shreds on her kitchen floor – and like we weren’t still ready to do so any second.

  I grabbed the empty foil and dirty napkins, walking to the kitchen to toss them.

  “What happens now?” She looked at me from the other side of the couch. And just like that, we were right back to where we started.

  Walking around the couch, I gripped the back of it on either side of her head. “Dessert.”

  Chapter 15

  Emmett

&nbs
p; This kiss was teasing. Earlier, I’d wanted her to explode. Now, I wanted to string her up higher and higher and gently let her shatter under my tongue. I pulled her legs around my waist, my jacket riding up as I lifted her.

  “I thought you’d want to see me try to make it up the stairs,” she whispered into my mouth.

  Biting her lip, “For the attitude you’ve been giving me, I should.”

  I didn’t take her into her bedroom. Instead, I carried her into the bathroom and set her on the countertop. “You need to shower.” Her brow furrowed. “Because otherwise you’ll be doing it when I’m not here and I don’t want to have to worry that you’ll pass out and hit your head. Again.”

  “You’re not going to stay?” she asked with sudden and profound sadness.

  Fuck – it killed me when she asked me like that. She might as well have just asked if I was going to stab her when I was done?

  I let go of her and turned on the shower. Even the small amount of space helped to strengthen my resolve.

  I gripped the edge of the countertop on either side of her legs. “I have some things I have to take care of in the morning,” I told her with a tight voice as I kissed her neck, feeling the steam fill the room. “So, no, I’m not staying tonight.” I tasted along the edge of her jaw. “And no, I’m not fucking you tonight.”

  Why the hell did I say tonight? Because that was the new line I had to make sure I didn’t cross.

  I unzipped my jacket, letting my fingers trail along the edge of her bikini, along the swell of her breast, watching goosebumps follow in my wake. “But no, I’m not done with you yet.”

  My eyes rose to hers and I flicked her nipple. “Now, shower.”

  I left the bathroom because that was the only way I was going to keep my hands off of her.

  I strolled into her room like I owned it. I was an ass, but she was mine. And I wanted to know every fucking crevice, dip, and valley on her body and in her life.