Glacier

by Violet Blaze

  “It's intense,” I breathe as Glacier curls up beside me, nestling his face against my neck. He seems to like it there, like maybe it calms him somehow.

  “Is this your first time using one?” he asks and I feel my slightly flushed cheeks get a little redder.

  “No. I have a really small one in my nightstand drawer.” I'm panting as I try to talk, swallowing hard and wondering how I'm going to last for any reasonable amount of time. I feel so … wired right now. “For some reason, I never really thought about putting it in. I just … did this.”

  “Did you come?” he asks, and the word come sitting on his lips, brushing my ear, it makes me feel crazy.

  “No. Not until you.”

  “Mmm.”

  Glacier kisses the side of my neck, down to the lacy red cups of my bra, running his tongue along the edges.

  “This is my first time with a vibrator,” he says, using his right hand to pull the bra out of his way, his teeth dropping to graze the pert pinkness of my nipple. “My first time with a girl in lingerie. My first time with my pretty new wife.”

  “So I hear,” I whisper as I touch the vibrator back to my clit, teasing it in these awful, slow circles. I can feel my sex clamping down around nothing, wishing Glacier was back inside of me. It's that thought that draws my hand forward, slips the pink tip of the vibe into my heat. I almost hesitate for a second, a momentary rush of embarrassment sweeping over me, but Saint covers my hand with his tattooed one and pushes the rest of it inside.

  My lids flicker with a rush of strange sensations and the fingers of my right hand curl in Saint's hair, the left dropping to the black comforter that covers the bed and grabbing on for dear life. Saint takes over, moving the vibrator in and out, nice and slow. When I finally open my eyes again, I can see this stark hunger on his face, this near wild desperation. He has so much fucking self-control … except when it comes to me. I think I make him crazy.

  “Faster, Saint,” I say and he makes this lazy, swaggering smile that would drive me to my knees if I wasn't already on my back. “Harder.” He moves the vibrator with strong, sure strokes, his muscular biceps bunching enticingly with the motion, his eyes completely focused on my wetness as I soak his fingers, cover the word BURY up with shimmering slickness.

  My nails dig into his scalp as my hips buck up off the bed, encouraging him to keep a steady pace, my left hand dropping to my clit, rubbing frantically at the swollen spot until I feel that unfurling sensation inside of me. It makes me crazy to know that Saint's come is in there, that he's fucking it even deeper with the vibrator. It's that thought that pushes me panting and gasping over the edge, coming hard around the pink silicone as I drench the wicked hands of a sinful outlaw in heat.

  “Oh my god, Saint,” I murmur as he pulls the vibrator out and flicks it off, tossing it onto the floor and dropping his mouth to my sweat slicked tummy. His tongue pauses to swirl around the piercings in my belly button, and then he's dropping his lips to the swollen achiness of my cleft. My hands fly down to that golden fall of hair, fingertips digging into Saint's scalp.

  He thoroughly destroys me between my thighs, licking and sucking and nibbling, listening to the sounds of my moans, the movement of my body, and matching it with expert flicks of his tongue.

  “Are you …” I ask, panting hard, my body limp and pliable beneath Glacier's mouth. “Are you sure you've ever done this before?” I continue when he pauses a moment to look at me and I finally get some breath back in my lungs.

  “Consider it years of repressed need,” he whispers and then he's pulling away and snatching a small box off the dresser. “Here. You went to all the trouble to buy these; I may as well eat them off of you.”

  Saint tosses the edible panties at me—chocolate strawberry flavored—and I drag myself to a sitting position, flopping against the pillows as I look up at his face. Right now, in this moment, there's nothing cold or frightening about his expression. It's passionate, completely unbridled, but not wildly out of control—not yet.

  “I'll have to take these off,” I venture, reaching down and hooking a thumb under one of the garter belt's straps.

  Saint's smile is decidedly unsaintly.

  “Allow me.”

  He crawls onto the bed and reaches down for my right heel, pulling the shiny red shoe off and tossing it aside, pressing his thumbs into the arch of my foot. The way he looks at me, it presses all my buttons. His eyes are so pale, but so sharp, so blue. I feel like I can see straight through him, all the way down to his soul.

  “You took my name,” he says as he moves onto the other foot, slipping the shoe off with excruciating slowness. “I didn't expect to care, but I kind of”—he licks along my arch, his tongue hot and slick, even through the thin fabric of the stockings—“like it.”

  “I didn't want you to be alone anymore.” The words just slip out, just like that, falling heavy and weighted between us. Saint smiles. “I would've made you take my name instead, but you know, it's my dad's last name and he's a dick and besides, Nordin was your mother's name so it's not completely patriarchal …” I pause. “I'm babbling now.” I lean back into the pillows, forcing myself to relax completely. “You can call me Ms. Nordin, if you want, but never Mrs.”

  “Ms., huh? Well, Ms. Nordin,” Saint drawls as he stretches out towards me, hovering his naked body over the top of mine, “as much as I like your lingerie, I think I prefer you naked. Your touch, it feels like it could fucking soothe away all my demons.”

  “Not all,” I whisper, as he pops the clasps on the garter belt with his thumb, his face far too close to mine to think clearly, “I happen to like some of them.”

  Saint makes this wicked sound in his throat and then grabs my panties, pulling them down along with the now loose stockings and tossing them aside. I scramble to unhook the belt and bra, and get rid of those, too. It almost seems a shame to put the edible underwear back on.

  Glacier seems to notice my hesitation and gives me a dark smile.

  “I'll make it quick,” he says and I bite my lower lip, tearing the box open and slipping on the stupid thong. It's some sort of gummy candy, so it's totally weird, and I feel kind of stupid as I struggle into it. When I look back up at Saint though, he isn't looking at me like stupid is anywhere in his vocabulary. “On your hands and knees,” he says, his voice rough and desperate, his cock nice and hard and ready for me again.

  I follow his instructions, my blonde and red hair falling down around my face as he starts kissing and caressing me from behind, slicking his tongue along the edges of the panties. For ten bucks, they really don't last all that long. Saint—or more likely Glacier—bites the strap tracing up my right hip. I gasp as his teeth scrape along my skin, trying to stay still and not wiggle around like a fucking crazy person.

  “You need to tame me, Serenity,” he whispers against my ass cheek, lips brushing my skin and making me shiver. His tongue slides all the way to the other side, teeth grazing me as he bites the other strap on the thong. I squeeze my thighs together to keep it place.

  “You can't be tamed, Saint,” I tell him, gasping as he spreads me wide with his hands, pulling my cheeks apart and licking me through the panties.

  “Only by you,” he says, nibbling the 'fabric', his teeth teasing me as he pulls what's left of the underwear off with his mouth. “Just you.”

  Saint buries his face against me, dips his tongue into my opening, hits all sorts of angles that I'm not used to. I bite my lower lip hard and even though I try to stay still, my back arches and I press against him, making these … keening sounds of pleasure that really are embarrassing as fuck. But I can't help it. Saint eats me out, murmuring words to me between breaths, lips moving against my most intimate parts.

  “Tame me, Serenity. I'm wild, and I want to be tamed.” He flicks his tongue against my ass, swirls it around the sensitive flesh and brings carnal memories racing to the forefront of my mind, of him fucking me there without any warning, without any warm-up.

&nb
sp; My orgasm sneaks up on me, flickering white-hot beneath my lids.

  Glacier pulls away abruptly, grabbing the discarded lube from the surface of the bedspread.

  “Because it's our wedding night, I'll be gentle with you,” he murmurs, slicking up his shaft with erotic, wet sounds. I sweep hair behind my ear and stare at him from around my shoulder. “But you have to promise to keep me tame, Ren.”

  “Tell me how,” I whisper, getting nervous, excited jitters in my tummy as Glacier slicks his cock between my cheeks.

  “By touching me,” he growls, and then he's thrusting into my ass, burning me up inside, making me hurt and feel good at the same time. “Just by touching me.”

  He moves inside me and goddamn it feels good, but it also makes my pussy ache with need, with jealousy. I want him in there now. But I can't stop him, not unless I use my safety word, something I'm not sure I'll ever use. Glacier might be wild, and he might want me to tame him, but he loves me and he'd die to protect me; I don't think he could hurt me if he tried.

  My orgasm comes first, and I collapse from my palms to my elbows, groaning and crying into the pillow, curling my fingers into the sheets. Glacier comes soon after, filling me up, a rough wild sound of his own spilling from his throat.

  In typical Saint Elias Nordin fashion, he rolls to the side and pulls me with him, burying my head beneath his chin, tangling our sweaty, wet bodies together. I'm sure there are, um, fluids getting everywhere, but neither of us cares.

  As I pant and struggle to catch my breath, I trace the gunshot scar on his right leg, the flesh still tender and pink from last month's bullshit with the cartel. At least it seems like all of that crap is over with now.

  “Do you think they'll let me take you to prom?” I ask, glancing up at his face. I wish you could see it; he makes an awful expression.

  “Prom. Way to shatter the mood, Ms. Nordin. Now I'm disturbed.”

  “Yeah, well.” I roll onto my back and he snuggles into my neck, his right hand dancing across my belly with light fingertips, tattoos sparkling in the dim light from the candle. “I am seventeen, and that's just something we have to deal with.”

  “Prom,” he says again, his mouth hot against my sweaty throat. “I never bothered to go.”

  “Maybe I won't either?” I ask, and he pushes himself to a slight sitting position, staring down at me with those piercing eyes of his.

  “If you don't want to go, then don't. But don't let me hold you back. If you don't want to take an old man to your school dance, take your little friend, Loren.” He smirks as I lift my hand up and run my fingers along the side of his face. There's the slightest brush of stubble there, and I consider maybe asking him to grow some facial hair. I think it'd look good on him.

  “You'd let me go on a date with Loren?” I ask and Glacier smirks.

  “He's no threat to me,” he says, and then he drops his mouth to mine and kills the brief moment of lightheartedness in the room. His kisses get deep and we end up completely tangled, just a mess of arms and legs, skin sweaty and sliding together.

  His left hand, the one with the word DEAD etched into it, kneads my breast, thumb teasing my nipple into a painful point. His right hand is just … everywhere, tracing over my body with his palm, like he's trying to memorize every square inch.

  By the time he's ready for me again, it feels like I've been the victim of Glacier's torture chamber, mercilessly teased for what seems like hours, until my body just hurts all over. I want my husband inside of me now.

  “Saint,” I murmur as he moves between my legs and I spread my knees wide.

  His gaze is locked on mine, so penetrating that I couldn't possibly look away, not even if I wanted to.

  “Serenity.”

  Still looking into my eyes, he pushes his shaft against the swollen achiness of my folds, my body still slick and ready. I can already tell before we start that this time is going to be different. This time, we're making love.

  He thrusts into me, slow and easy, unhurried, our eyes still locked together.

  My lips part and my back arches, pushing my breasts up against Glacier's chest as he keeps himself propped up with his forearms, brushing some hair away from my forehead. It's plastered there with sweat, just as hot and slick as the rest of my body right now.

  We move together this time, gently, my hips rising to meet his, my hands curled softly around the rock-hard curves of his colorful biceps. When he drops his forehead to mine and nestles into me, I almost start crying, just from the sheer overwhelming rush of emotions.

  This, this is what I've always wanted. Maybe I'm young, maybe I'm even making a mistake, but right now, I just don't care. The future is later, and I'll make plans for it, but the present is what matters, and presently, I am in fucking heaven.

  “I love you, Saint,” I breathe against his face, my forehead still pressed up tight to his. “I love you so much.” I wrap my legs around him and he makes this gentle sound in his throat, opens his eyes at the same time I do.

  “Serenity … for you, I'd destroy both heaven and hell and I'd smile while I did it.”

  He pushes into me with these deep, deep strokes, churning up embers in my belly, buried so deep inside of me I can hardly even tell where I end and he begins.

  “I love you,” he tells me simply, just before the pleasure crests and I come shaking and quivering in his arms, my tightening sex dragging one from him, too, melding our cries together as he fills me with his come and then holds me tight in his rock-hard arms.

  That night, he shows me his monster, his man … and my husband. Over and over and over again.

  We don't get out of that bed until morning.

  “It hurts to walk,” I say and Loren makes this awful noise, like he's trying to cough up fucking phlegm or something. “You're the one that asked,” I tell him as we exchange glares and he finishes tacking up some stupid banner that says Girls' Night Out! on it. Only, it's not night and Loren, Otto, and Tom are here, too, so it's definitely not gender exclusive either.

  “That's so fucking gross,” he says as I lean back in the chair in Glacier's … my living room and watch Rayna put together these stupid platters of finger food on the coffee table. “It hurts to walk? I mean, that's like fifty shades of fucked the fuck up.”

  “Only fifty?” Glacier's smooth voice oozes into the room from behind me, and I whip around, so hyper-aware of him that I feel like there's a thread tied between our hearts. He smiles one of his good ol' boy smiles that he uses at the compound when he's pretending to be normal. It actually doesn't bother me so much anymore, doesn't quite feel so much like bullshit now that I've seen the man beneath the monster. I think that this personality he affects is what he would've been like barring any trauma. Like, if his piece of shit father hadn't killed his family, he really would be a smiling, charismatic joker. “I think we were batting a hundred last night, honey dearest.”

  “A hundred,” I say, smiling big and stupid and goofy, “at least. Must be why my pussy's so sore.”

  “I'm leaving,” Loren says, and he almost sounds serious about it, giving Saint a nasty look. “I really don't want to hear about your wedding night.”

  “And I really, really do,” Rayna says, standing up and wiping her hands on the naked woman apron she has draped over her body. I think technically since this is a bachelorette party, it's supposed to be a naked man, but Rayna said they were sold out. “I mean, like everything.”

  “Your edible panties were kind of … well, they didn't last long,” I say as Loren sticks his fingers in his ears and disappear into the bathroom. Saint watches him go and then comes to perch on the arm of the chair next to me, smiling in a way that I'm not exactly sure is all fake.

  When I woke up this morning to the sound of the doorbell, I thought I might kill my friends. Honestly, I just sort of wanted to hang out in bed with my new husband all day and fuck. But now that they're here, I'm really excited to see them. The only thing that could make this better would be if my paren
ts would answer my calls. I've tried both their cells and the home phone today and nobody's answering. I could pretend it doesn't hurt, but that would be a lie.

  “They're not supposed to last,” Rayna says, like she's an expert on gummy candy panties. She admitted to me yesterday that she's really only had 'boring vanilla penis-vagina sex'. Her words, not mine. I guess Tom needs to step up his game.

  “Well,” Glacier says, draping himself over my shoulders and licking up the side of my ear, “they tasted delicious.”

  “Aren't you, like, leaving or something?” Loren asks when he comes back into the living room and pauses next to Aletha and Otto as they light about a hundred little white tealights with a pair of lighters. “I don't think the husband's supposed to be at the bachelorette party.”

  “Why? Will I scare the strippers off?” Glacier asks coyly, sitting up with a rustle of his leather cut, a tight as fuck gray wifebeater on his ripped body, jeans dark and boots shined up from the wedding yesterday. His eyes sparkle as he stares my friend down, and I notice Loren shivering.

  “Nah,” Otto says, his purple hair wet from a shower and still drying, draped over his forehead and the bald sides of his scalp. “I think they'd be all the hell over you.”

  Aletha smacks her boyfriend and rolls her eyes. Otto's bisexual and admittedly, he was kind of a slut before he and Aletha got together. He's probably hit on Glacier a good … dozen or so times since he got here this morning.

  I give him a look and then turn my attention back to my husband as he stands up and runs his left hand through his hair, his silver wedding band winking in the light, just another spot of metal on his person. It looks even sexier with the word DEAD tattooed in bold black letters on his knuckles.

  “Damn, I'm sorry I have to miss that,” he says, leaning against the wall and pulling a stick of gum from his cut pocket. “But I have club business to attend to, unfortunately.”