On the Edge (Winter Games Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Chapter 19

  Ally

  I hate the way I need him. Uncontrollably. Violently. Unapologetically.

  “Tonight, I’m going to unwrap every inch of you and take more than it’s possible for you to give,” he rasped.

  I rubbed my legs together, sitting in the front of his truck, replaying the last words he’d said to me to the tune of my humming desire as we drove away from the Pub. My hands twisted and rubbed each other in my lap. I felt naked without the Claddagh ring. I’d slipped it off and into my purse just before stepping into Emmett’s truck. The truth was I should have taken it off a long time ago. Dylan would always have a piece of my heart, but Emmett – he’d claimed every inch of my soul.

  I’d kept the ring on because I was afraid of letting go. I’d kept the ring on to remind me not to let anyone in too close. That, obviously, hadn’t gone according to plan. Emmett had scrawled a giant ‘Fuck you’ on my ability to restrain my emotions.

  “You look like I’m taking you to your doom,” his scratchy voice broke the silence.

  “I wouldn’t put it past you.” The retort falling easily between us. “But really, where are you taking me?” The roads were becoming less paved and less known to me.

  We turned on another road that definitely wasn’t paved, a metal mailbox at the end with no name or number. The truck climbed the snowy hill with relative ease. “My house.”

  “Is it in a cave?” I teased.

  He chuckled. Two seconds later, I saw a light up ahead. A few feet more I realized that it was a cabin, secluded on the side of the mountain. Snow-covered. Smoke coming out of the chimney. Dim, warm light emanating from the windows. It was more than picture-perfect. It was almost magical.

  “This… is your house?” He hadn’t even put the truck in park before I had the door open and stepped outside.

  “Jesus, woman,” he swore, his door slamming as he rushed around in front of me. I wanted to just stare at it, but he pulled me towards the door. My focus broken, I realized how freaking cold it was outside. He stopped though. He didn’t open the door. Instead, he pinched his temples before turning and piercing me with his stare.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice sounded like it was being dragged over a bed of burning coals. “Because I’m telling you right fucking now, sunshine, that if you walk through this door, there is no turning back. I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to fuck you in ways that aren’t soft or gentle or caring because that’s not who I am. I’m the asshole.” My mouth parted, my breath escaping in a soft white plume. “I’m the asshole who’s going to fuck you until you can’t move without hurting, until you can’t breathe without screaming, and until you can’t feel anything except me inside of you.” Pure heat dripped down the insides of my thighs; underwear were officially out of commission. “I’m the asshole who’s going to fuck you like I’m trying to break you in two – because I am.”

  I wanted to raise a hand and jump up and down like a child screaming, ‘Me! Pick me!’

  Was it wrong to want that? To want all of it? Tonight. Now. Forever.

  “Are you sure?”

  I stared at him. “Are you?” I returned.

  “Ally,” he laughed, “this is the only fucking thing I’ve ever been sure of in my whole goddamn miserable life.”

  “Well, it’s about fucking time.” His eyes flared at my final taunt. My ‘yes’ in the way only I would give it to him – the way he would only accept it.

  He unlocked the door and led me inside.

  I followed him like the sun chased the night – a graceful demise; the beautifully bright colors shimmered and faded to boldly announce my descent into darkness where all those colors became one – and where I became his.

  Day always turns to night. I always turned to him. I had no choice.

  Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this.

  “Oh wow…” My hand rose to cover my gaping mouth. Windows. Everywhere.

  The gas fireplace in the center crackled with warmth, the soft light spewing over the dark leather couch and chair sitting in front of it. My feet carried me over to the windows where the snow outside was tumbling down in an evening frenzy. My fingers reached out and touched the stone detail of the fireplace, hanging on to the side of the mantle.

  “Did you build this?” I asked, my eyes still mystified by the full moon-lit snow.

  “Designed. Not built.” His voice touched my skin like the flakes falling on the ground. I wondered if the Earth got goosebumps, too.

  He was in the shadows, the light barely flickering over his beautiful face, the shadows accentuating the harshly handsome lines.

  “I can’t believe this is where you live. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  The fire reflected in his eyes. “Me neither.”

  Why was he just standing there? I swallowed thickly. I would have bet my savings that my clothes would have been off the second that we walked in the door. But, he just stood there watching me… like I was some sort of vision.

  I quickly took in the rest of the room. The tiny kitchen off to his left. The small table on the other side of the living room. The walls were bare. Granted, half of them were covered with windows, but still. There were no pictures, save one that sat on the mantle. I couldn’t see anything besides the frame because I was standing almost directly in line with it – and I didn’t want to move.

  Stairs led up to a loft. Looking at that drew my eyes up, to where the windows continued onto the roof. I stared at the snow that mingled with stars.

  “Take off your clothes.” My head jerked back at his command. “You have five seconds before I rip them off.”

  Thank God the zipper was short because my fingers had never moved so clumsily. I shimmied out of the tight fabric and let it fall to the floor, using my foot to push it to the side.

  He took a few steps closing the space between us.

  “You know,” one hand raised, his knuckle brushing back and forth over my left nipple that was already achingly hard – the sensation sending distress flares down to my core, “the night I met you,” back and forth, “you were wearing that top that it seems you had the good sense to dispose of.”

  I still had it. Stuffed in the back of a drawer, never to be worn again.

  “All I wanted to do was drop the damn pizza and reach my hands up underneath it,” now both of his hands had fingers gripped on each of my nipples, “and tug.” And he did. I fought for air as he tortured my nipples, completely focused on them, I watched as his need ravaged his face.

  “I had no fucking idea how perfect they’d be.” He laughed, lightly tracing around the reddening peaks. “I could have never imagined…” My knees gave out as he flicked them both and I grabbed onto his sleeve. “I tortured you that night because they tortured me. All I could think about was all the ways I could make you come just by touching them.” He grinned, adding, “One day.”

  “Emmett!” I gasped as he flicked them again and thought for sure that day might be today.

  “And then, you gave me that sass… and I thought of so many other things that I wanted to do. To punish you. For not listening to me.” I felt a finger trail down my sternum. “Just like now.”

  “Wha—“ The tiny pop of the seam of my underwear ripping silenced me.

  He pulled my thong up in between us, holding it for me to see. “I told you to take off your clothes.” Gulp.

  And then he walked over to the fireplace. “Emmett!” I screamed, but it was too late; my sexy black panties had already burst into flames.

  “Better.”

  “I can’t believe you just torched my underwear!” And how turned on I was by it.

  I backed up as he walked towards me. His stride was longer though – and I wanted to be caught. His fingers returned to my nipples, pulling them hard – pulling me against him so that his mouth could punish mine.

  His tongue claimed me just like I knew he’d claim the rest of my body soon. Hopefully, soon. The wa
y his hands kneaded my breasts was making me burn.

  I gasped. The glass of the window was frigid against my naked back. I panted his name just as one of his hands found my folds. I arched against him – his mouth, his body, his hands.

  He grinned at my suffering. “This is my house.” His fingers flicked over my clit so fast I swore he was trying to make whipped cream. “My rules.” Two fingers slid inside my sex and curled right into my G-spot; I saw stars.

  His other hand threaded through my hair, holding the back of my head. “And now,” he rasped into my ear, his fingers pushed furiously inside of me, “you are mine.” I almost collapsed when I felt him disappear; I’d been so close.

  I watched in a daze as he raised his hand that was covered in my desire in front of me. I thought he was going to lick it off; I loved when he did that. Instead, his hand moved past my face, to the window next to my head, where he proceeded to write a word onto the pristinely cleaned glass.

  I held my breath. I couldn’t see what he’d written, but I knew I would know soon. When he was done, he flipped me around and back against his chest.

  “Mine,” he growled. The word echoed in its written form on the window, engraved with my desire.

  Yes.

  My hips rolled back against the hard ridge now cradled against my ass. He let out a curse as his hand cupped my sex, holding me steady. Those fingers found their way back inside.

  My head lolled back against him, watching his hand move in and out of me in the glass. “Yours.” My reward was his other hand on my breast, thumbing over my nipple.

  “Now, write it.” My eyes jerked to his in the glass and were greeted with a devilish smirk. “Just like I did.”

  My mouth went drier than sand. It was so dirty – what he wanted. But my body listened. My hand drifted with a life of its own to where he was still fingering me. And he didn’t stop. I fought him and my need to orgasm to coat my fingers in my own desire.

  My hand shook like a freaking slinky as I moved my fingers to the window. The closer I got to the window, the more he pleasured me. The more he pleasured me, the harder it was to even remember what I was doing, let alone do it.

  Catch-22.

  With the worst penmanship I’d ever produced, my finger scrawled the letters onto the glass – milky white marring the clear. I moaned with every stroke of my finger – and his.

  I lost it by the time I got to the ‘s.’ At the end of the curve, three fingers curled into me and his other hand pinched my clit.

  “Emmett!” Fire exploded inside of me as my orgasm detonated. My hips seized against his hands – rocking with the waves that rolled through me. I saw so much black I wondered if it was possible to be conscious of losing consciousness.

  He didn’t stop though. Painfully, he continued to rub over my sex that was vibrating with the shock it had been put through. Tears formed in my eyes before I could find the words to tell him how much it burned. Just when I thought I’d found them, I realized that the burning had become pleasurable again.

  My eyes found his. He’d been waiting for me to come back to him. And he looked like he was about to lose control.

  His arms released me and I sagged, but managed to remain upright.

  He backed up a few steps, “Bend over the side of the couch,” he demanded harshly, nodding to the leather armrest to his right. My body moved; my gaze stayed.

  He stalked into the kitchen, opened and slammed one of the drawers, pulling out a condom in the process. He unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, just as I got to the couch.

  “Over it. Now.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, ripping off his shirt. I laid over the edge, the armrest underneath my hips, my chest sinking into the plush pillow that was propped up against it.

  I heard the wrapper tear. “Touch yourself.” My eyes widened against the pillow. “Or I’ll slap the lovely sight in front of me – and I’m not talking about that pretty ass of yours.” I groaned and arched one side of my hip up, working my hand underneath to my core.

  I listened for his harsh breaths as my fingers swirled, slipping around my sex, my eyes drifting shut again as my pleasure began to build.

  “That’s it. I want you dripping onto my floor.” His voice seemed closer now.

  My hand paused as I felt his presence against the back of my legs that were draped and shaking over the side of the couch, his breath blowing over my quivering sex. Oh, God. His tongue was licking along the length of my finger… my nail… and along my slit, darting inside of me as I moaned, my hand falling away.

  And then I felt him at my entrance for a split second before he tore into me. I screamed at the invasion. It had been so long since… And he was so big… too big… Tears streamed down my face as pleasure and pain mingled inside of me – just like love and hate.

  He’d done this on purpose. The angle of my hips. Allowing him to plunge to the hilt inside of me. He was making good on his promise. I couldn’t move without hurting – without something tearing or breaking inside of me. I couldn’t breathe without small screams accompanying every exhale.

  And I couldn’t feel anything except him as he rammed into me, sliding all the way into the deepest part that no one had ever touched before.

  He took more than I thought I had. I wanted to give him more.

  Every once in a while, when you catch a wave, you don’t think you are going to make it – that you won’t come out the other side before it crashes on you… over you… and drags you down beneath its surface.

  I didn’t think I was going to make it.

  I was so close.

  He pulled out of me and flipped me over, hooking one of my legs up over his shoulder. I saw the sheen of sweat over his chest and chiseled stomach. I gasped at the size of his arousal, the condom coated with my juices, as it hung heavy in front of him.

  Again, his finger slid along my sex, this time going to his mouth as he sucked them clean. “Mine.”

  I could barely focus on him, my climax right there – just out of my reach, but I answered. “Yours.”

  I made it. Yet I was still drowning.

  I screamed his name from the mountaintops – literally – as he slammed back inside of me as his fingers squeezed my clit. My body shattered. Disintegrated. Dissolved. I was one cell in the turbulent sea of my orgasms that crashed around me. Yes. Orgasms. Plural. One from my clit and one from the head of his cock on my G-spot. My muscles cramped they spasmed so tightly from the sheer inexplicable pleasure that devastated my body.

  One hand on my breast, the other holding my hip steady as he pumped into me two more times before he erupted with a shout. I gasped for air, moaning as I felt his cock pulse inside of me.

  “Fuck, Ally…” he groaned, turning his head to my leg and biting my calf muscle. “Fuck.” He pulled out of me with a curse, walking into the kitchen.

  Adrenaline pumping, I pushed up to see what was wrong. He’d overflowed the condom.

  My legs wobbled when I stood; I was completely exhausted – ravaged – content.

  Tucking himself back in his pants, he looked up at me. He looked up at me like he would take me again if the act wasn’t sure to kill me.

  Emmett walked back over to me with a warm, wet towel. “Perfect.” His mouth took mine as he gently wiped between my legs. Bending down, he wiped the floor underneath me where I’d dripped – just like he’d wanted.

  Heat flushed through my body when I looked over at the window. ‘Mine’ and ‘Yours’ clearly smudged onto the glass, along with a semi-handprint of mine.

  “I’m leaving that.” He walked back into the kitchen to rinse off the cloth.

  “Why?” My voice was so heavy and scratchy. I sounded like a hooker who was trying too hard – except I wasn’t trying.

  “So that you don’t forget.” I shivered. How could I? “There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom. Use it and go upstairs and get in bed.” Still so demanding. “I don’t want you to get cold,” he cleared his throat, “please.”

&n
bsp; Everything about this man was cold and harsh. Except when he touched me.

  Chapter 20

  Emmett

  I watched those beautiful, blue eyes of her widen at my tone for a second, softening as I took the hint and added ‘please’. When she turned towards the bath, I finally stopped whatever the fuck I was doing with the damn cloth to catch my fucking breath.

  Christ. This was what I wanted to see every night. That sweet naked ass of hers walking around my house like she owned it.

  Mine.

  Yours.

  Fuck that.

  Hers. I was hers.

  I was hers long before tonight. Long before I fucked her. Long before I touched her. Tasted her. I was hers from the second I wanted every piece of her shattered sunshine.

  Tonight though… I’m surprised I even lasted as long as I did – which was embarrassing as shit. Seeing her against my window, my fingers deep inside of her… Seeing her on my couch, her reddened sex dripping for me… Hottest moment of my life. Which was probably why my dick emptied a liter of cum into the condom. Never had that problem before. And not only that, but I was ready to go again.

  “Ally.” She’d come out of the bathroom, heading towards the couch and her pile of clothes. “If you think about touching any of your clothes, I will burn them, too. Here. Tonight. That is how you are staying.”

  And that fucking blush of hers, the way it touched every inch of her skin. My fingers itched – jealous of anything that touched any inch of her.

  She turned and paused. “Who’s that?”

  I swore silently. The one fucking photo that I had. Of course, she’d notice it first.

  “Is that you?” she pressed.

  “When I was younger,” I answered gruffly as my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Who…”

  “Miriam.” I stepped closer to her.

  “This is the only photo you have in here?” I nodded. “She looks like a very special lady to have in your life.”