His face doesn’t soften and he shows no emotion.
“I had my reasons…” he says, flicking dark strands of hair behind his ear.
“Care to enlighten me?” I add.
He shuffles forwards. I’ve lost his eyes and am now looking at the back of his head. “They weren’t my parents, Darc. I was fostered, not adopted like you.”
I grab his shoulder.
“It’s a bloody word, a meaningless word; they loved you like a son. Mum wrote to you every week.” I smile, remembering. “I watched her tear the letter she’d written from its pad, fold it neatly and place it in an envelope. Then she’d take my hand and we’d make the 15-minute walk we took every Friday to the post box.”
I feel him flinch as I press my fingers deeper into his bicep.
“It wasn’t just letters, Snow, she sent you photos, photos of us, at Christmas, on birthdays, pictures of Hooper and me growing up. We thought you cared… Why bother to come back now? Why bother to come back at all? It’s too late, they’re dead and buried.”
His head tilts my way.
“I had no choice, I had to come back.”
“So it wasn’t out of the goodness of your heart then?” I snap.
“I loved you all,” he tells me, though there is no empathy in his voice. “I sent blank cheques monthly, but not one was cashed.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” My voice breaks. “It was you we wanted, not your damn money.”
Snow looks away and throws the ball again, which spins up from the wall. As he lifts his hand to catch it, I reach in front, grabbing it before he has the chance.
“Damn it, Snow, you don’t listen!” I yell, launching the ball with speed.
Hooper’s bark makes us both jump, and my wine spills onto the carpet. He bounds off the settee, pushing between us as the ball ricochets off the TV stand at the far end of the room. Hooper leaps into the air. My mouth drops open as he catches the tennis ball perfectly between his teeth. Tail wagging, he trots over to Snow and drops the ball at his side. He pants, looking like he’s grinning at us. Did he know what to do all along, and was just waiting for the right moment?
“Way to go, boy!” Snow ruffles the long fur on the side of Hooper’s face with both hands.
Snow’s praise brings with it my tears. As he turns his head towards me, I lift my arm and dip my face into it.
“Darc…” he mutters, taking my shoulder and squeezing it softly between his fingers.
I jerk away.
“You just don’t fucking get it.” I bite down on my bottom lip. I very rarely swear, but in the short time Snow has been home, I feel he brings out the worst in me.
“Get what?” His face scrunches and he sits up on his knees, staring directly into my eyes.
My stomach is in knots. I can’t hold back any longer, he needs to know.
“I love you, damn it!” I cry out. “I’ve always loved you. I’ve waited all these years to tell you, for you to come back, and now that you have…” I shake my head. “I don’t know … it’s just not what my dreams let me see. You’re not the person I thought you were. You’re not what I imagined you to be.”
He frowns. “For fuck’s sake, Darc, this is madness! You’re my sister!”
The creases in his brows relax; I see his eyes drop and watch as they wander over me. This isn’t the way a brother looks at his sister.
His eyes flash back to meet mine.
“You were a kid when I left.”
“I wasn’t a kid,” I hiss, “I was nearly thirteen years old, and you can get it out of your head that I’m your sister, ‘cause I’m not. You were fostered, I was adopted, there aren’t any blood ties. We spent six weeks together, one long summer, which I’ve never been able to forget.”
Tears spill more freely onto my cheeks, but I don’t want him to see me cry, to see my tears, so I bow my head further, burying my face into the palms of my hands in an attempt to muffle my sobs.
“Come on then, Darc, tell me how you feel, say it again.”
His fingers pinch the flesh of my arms, making me jump. He lifts me off the floor and pushes me back into the cushions of the settee.
He leans over me; I jerk my head so our faces are close enough that our noses are almost touching.
“I love you! I love you! Is that what you want to hear?” I shout into his face.
His fingers move from my arm and squash my cheeks. My mouth contorts, and I tremble as the roughness of his face brushes against mine. My body temperature rises as I breathe in the pungent scent of his musky aftershave. Warm lips come to rest on my ear; I feel their dampness as they open.
“Liar, Darcy, you talk shit,” he whispers.
I turn so that his face can’t escape mine.
“No, Snow, you just don’t want to hear.”
There’s a momentary pause between us, as if his eyes are burning into mine, but it’s much more than that, and goes far deeper than I could ever imagine, so much so that I hold my breath. Without warning he releases my face, and my head bounces off the cushion below. His lips crash down, pushing with force against my teeth. His knees press into my sides and I struggle to open my mouth, allowing his tongue to slip inside. My God, I’m actually kissing him. As he makes ten years of dreams into a reality, every part of me trembles.
It’s a pleasurable shudder I release as his open-mouthed kiss lingers. Almost without realising it, I’m undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. My fingers glide across his chest; his muscles are like hard knots, his torso like a continual wave, and then something stops me. The buckle of his belt is locked through the waistband of his trousers. I press my body into his; his fingers are warm as I feel them caressing my knee, before wandering up towards my thigh. He slips my dress up to my panties. My fingers fumble with the zip of his trousers. Our lips seem to fight to keep us together, but for a brief second he pulls away.
“Darcy, are you sure this is what you want?” he whispers.
Lowering my eyes, I nod, and it’s as if our lips have never been apart. I stroke the top of his head as it moves down to rest between my breasts, and for a moment I lose the feel of his hands. Then I hear a tear of material as he rips my dress from me like it is no more than tissue paper. He arches my back with his hands and whips the material from beneath me, allowing it to fall to the floor, lost from view.
“Lift up,” I tell him, and he kneels astride me.
I lean into him, placing kiss after kiss on his chest, and then pull the arms of his shirt from his shoulders. Letting the soft cotton drop down his arms, like a snake he wriggles free. With my index finger I trace the outline of letters that form part of a small tattoo that I imagine to rest directly over his heart.
“Snow, who’s Summer?” I can’t help but ask, though he offers no answer.
“Turn over,” he utters.
I giggle and roll towards the back cushions of the settee, muffling my laughter. He lifts himself off me, stands and rolls me over with his hands. Lying on my stomach, I bury my chin into the soft cushion and from the corner of my eye watch his trousers being lowered to the floor. My gaze takes in every inch of his hardening male form, my eyes fixed on his erection; what I see doesn’t disappoint. He crouches down beside me and positions himself centrally between my thighs. I feel his warm breaths float across my skin as he teases my panties down the length of my legs with his teeth. He pauses, tugging them over my open toes, once again his moist tongue on the move. I can feel as it licks in circular motions up the length of my leg to my thigh. I flinch as it runs over the cheek of my ass.
“It tickles,” I giggle.
I pull up my legs and tense, but they soon straighten as I feel the weight of Snow’s body, light at first as he lies over me, then I’m crushed into the fibres of the settee as I take his body weight. I can feel his teeth grazing the lobe of my ear.
“Open up to me, Darcy, open your legs.”
I can feel his hard length pressing into my back. Teasingly I wriggle my ass, and,
as requested, allow my inner thighs to part, leaving a nice gap between them for him to enter.
His fingers work their way up to my neck, weaving themselves through my hair as he removes every metal pin from between strands, releasing my dark tresses. I shake my head from side to side so that it fans out around my shoulders.
“I love your hair loose,” he groans into my ear as he bunches it between his fingers. “It will give me something to grab hold of when we fuck.”
I snap my legs together and my body tenses beneath him. His weight has gone and I roll over onto my side. He is looking down at me.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t want to fuck; I want us to make love. I want to be more than just a piece of ass to you. I want it to mean something; I want tonight to be special.”
He laughs. “Darcy, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m incapable of giving you or anyone love. I just fuck until I fall asleep, then get up in the morning and go home.”
He bends down to retrieve his jersey boxers. I grab for his hand.
“Please, Snow, I’ve waited so long for you and for this moment, can’t you just pretend?”
I know that if we make love, he’ll see me as more than a fuck, more than a one-night stand. I can see his eyes as they wander over my naked body, and he bites the corner of his lip.
“Okay, let’s say for tonight I can pretend…”
His boxers drop from between his fingers.
My heart beats so fast in my chest I’m unable to reply, but I sit up slightly and lift my arms. He bends his head, his eyes never leaving mine as I clasp my hands like a chain around his neck and hang on. There’s no subtly or softness as he lifts me, his fingers rough as they circle and press themselves around my ass. He leaves me no option but to clasp my legs around his waist. Wrapped up in one another, he walks us both towards the stairs and up. We reach the landing, and abruptly he turns, slamming me back against my bedroom door. I cry out, though it is from the pleasure of thinking about what’s to come. His mouth soon quashes my thoughts, and within a matter of seconds I lose myself in his moist kisses. Blindly I reach behind me, searching for the door handle, and with a quick turn we almost fall into the room.
We are greeted by a dim light from my small bedside lamp, which I always leave on.
“Scared of the dark?” he mocks.
I roll my eyes. As if. I try to conjure up a witty reply as he strides towards my bed. He doesn’t place me down gently on the quilt cover, but throws me, and my head bounces into the soft feather pillow. He kneels beside me on the edge of the bed and then leans towards the lamp, which I presume he’s about to turn off. But instead he cracks it with the back of his hand. The bulb shatters, sending the room into darkness. I hear the lamp fall to the floor, but am unable to see. I can just about make out his silhouette as it moves towards the door, and I hear the catch click shut. I blink, losing his silhouette. Suddenly, my hands are forced above my head.
“Darcy, open your legs. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked. In the morning you may be sore, but you’ll be begging for more.”
“Snow, stop it,” I hiss. “I want you, but I want tonight to be special. Please, do as I ask will you? Make love to me.”
I feel the release of his hands from my wrist. The hairs on my arms stand on end as his fingers stroke against my cheek.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
There’s a slight pause between us, until his voice breaks the silence.
“You’re not like any girl I’ve been with.”
“No, that’s because I’m not any girl, and you’re not just any guy.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Gently he lifts my leg and places it on his right shoulder. “Now close your eyes, Darc; this is a first for me, tonight you get your wish. I’ll make love to you.”
He bends his head towards me. I feel his soft kisses, warm around my ankle; his tongue tickles my calf, and I can’t help letting out a girlish giggle as he works his way towards my thigh and my most intimate parts. God, what am I doing? My arms, my legs, my whole body tenses. I push him away. Straightening his arms, he lifts himself from me.
“Darcy, what the fuck?”
“Not there…”
I clamp my thighs together.
“Relax,” he tells me, prising them open. “This is for you to enjoy, remember? A bit of foreplay to moisten you up.”
Oh God, nobody has ever kissed there before. I can feel my cheeks flush as he fumbles in the darkness, grabbing at my wrist and then moving my arm further down the bed. Opening my fingers, he wraps them around his engorged erection. With his hand placed over mine, he moves it up and down the length of his smooth shaft. Faster and faster I hear his faltering breaths of enjoyment as the pace he takes quickens, and I feel his cock throbbing against my palm.
“Touch yourself for me.”
I’m hesitant, embarrassed. He takes my hand, placing it between my legs. An immense heat rushes through my body; my sex is beginning to throb, and instinctively I rub my fingers over it in a circular motion. My whole being trembles; this feels so good. I’m wet, so wet, but I can’t believe I’m doing this. God, all the years, all the sleeps I’ve had and woken up thinking we were together; as I lie here playing with myself between the sheets, it feels like we are re-enacting a dream.
“Would you like to taste me first?”
I hear the teasing tone of his voice as he moves my hand aside, and in an instant his tongue replaces my fingers.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmurs.
I arch my back in response, pushing myself into his face; his tongue laps at my sex, then guides itself into my damp opening. I throw my hands above my head, grasping the cast-iron headboard. My fingers tighten around the cold metal as groans of pleasure trickle from between my lips. I’m unable to stop myself from trembling, unable to stop the moans I let out, so I pull the pillow from behind my head and clamp it over my face as my body squirms. Breathing heavily, I throw the pillow into the air.
“Oh fuck, Snow, no more, that’s enough!” I gasp, pulling away.
“I don’t think so,” he growls.
With the tips of his fingers tightening around my thighs, he drags me further down the covers so the head of his cock is only a couple of inches above my opening.
“Come on, Darcy, tell me you want me to fuck you.”
My head tells me no, but my head isn’t in control, my sex is, and it’s getting wetter by the second. I long to feel his hard cock inside me, to lose the virginity I’ve held onto for so long and saved for him. I feel his hands pushing me over onto my stomach.
“Open your legs,” he’s telling me.
“No, Snow!” I say, rolling onto my side and then over onto my back.
His fingers weave through my long hair, which he strokes back onto the pillow behind me. Suddenly, there’s a softness to his touch; it’s almost like I’m in bed with a different man. I part my knees, letting my legs fall open. He rubs the head of his cock against my sex and I cry out, though he is gentle as he inches himself inside me.
“Quit tensing.”
“I’m not.”
“Fuck me, Darc, you’re tight … just how I like it.”
I put my finger to his lips.
“Stop talking,” I tell him as I take his head between my hands and manoeuvre it so that his face is directly above mine.
He parts my lips, his tongue nibbling at the corners with his front teeth as he thrusts himself deeper inside my folds. Every inch of my body quivers, perspiration stinging my eyes as it drips off my forehead. I’m overwhelmed by a burning sensation, and a squeal escapes from my partially open mouth. I’m tempted to pull away, but the sensation he gives me, the euphoric pleasure I’m feeling, makes it impossible. I arch myself up into him, the burning subsides and the pleasure increases.
“Darcy, tell me when you’re coming,” he breathes into my ear.
But all I can think about is his cock as it pounds back and forth i
nside me while his fingers rub my sex at speed. My breaths become short and erratic as goose bumps sweep over my skin, my whole body vibrating as he brings me to orgasm. Shaking, I lay a whimpering wreck as I feel his pulsating cock release itself inside me. Regaining his breath, he rolls from me and we lie side by side, staring up at the ceiling.
“Round one,” he utters. “I hope you’ll be ready for round two when I wake you up later.”
Though I want to say yes, I’m too exhausted to reply.
“Leave your knickers off; you’ll get a welcome surprise in a couple of hours,” he teases.
“So I’ll say goodnight, for now.”
I feel his arms around my shoulder and close my eyes, then remember nothing.
With my eyes still closed, I reach and feel across to the far side of the bed to pull him close. I fumble round for a second or two, but he’s gone. I pull the quilt over my head, throwing myself into darkness. What the hell did I do last night? What the hell was I thinking? The day of Mum and Dad’s funeral, and I go and sleep with Snow.
I feel the bed rock below where my feet lie and I sit up. Snow is sitting on the end of the bed; I guess he felt me move, but he doesn’t turn and remains silent.
I’m quite surprised that he’s already dressed in his shirt and black trousers. I clear my throat to catch his attention. He half turns, allowing me to see his rugged profile, but I am unable to make out the expression on his face. There’s an awkward silence, and he turns away from me.
“Darc,” he whispers, his unkempt hair falling in loose waves as he shakes his head, “I can’t bring myself to look at you.”
I attempt to pull the quilt higher around me to cover my breasts, but with Snow sitting on it, it pulls taut and won’t move, so I tug the pillow from behind my head and hug it to my chest.
“The funeral,” I sniff, gazing out of the window onto a grey, cloudy day. “Last night, us, our timing was so wrong.”
“You’re telling me,” he snaps. “Weddings and funerals, with the added ingredient of alcohol, bring out the worst in people.”
A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) Page 2