Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

WYATT

I don’t know how long I held her. Who could count minutes with a woman like Olive in their arms?

She broke me, this vixen who knew exactly what she wanted. Just like I’d suspected, there was nothing timid about Olive Blake. She had even confessed to having a crush on me. Present tense.

As a kid, crushes were fun but meaningless. At nearly forty, they could mean everything.

My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since those words had passed her lips. Not even after an orgasm that had sent me to heaven and back.

For our first time, I’d let her lead. I could tell being the boss in bed was her natural inclination. Next time, though…Olive would bend to my will like a sapling caught in the wind. She would break for me. With me.

I wrapped the soft blanket around us and squeezed her tighter. Olive was using me like a body pillow, her breasts crushed into my ribs and the heat between her legs pressed against my thigh.

“Talk to me, dream girl.”

I couldn’t help smiling at her satisfied hum and the soft sweep of her fingers across my chest. This crush definitely went both ways. Olive surprised me. She made me want to stay present. Nowhere but here. I trailed my fingers down her arm, inhaling the comforting smell of her hair. Nowhere but here.

“Talk to me ,” she answered, voice scratchy from her screaming orgasm. My softening cock twitched at the reminder. “I took over. I didn’t mean to. We didn’t do what you wanted.”

“Yeah, we did.” Jesus Christ, had we ever.

“But you want more. You have places for me. Plans for us.”

How could I not? Olive was perfection walking, my dream girl come to life. Lara Croft meets Art3mis. Hot, smart, and capable. Fucking everything.

“Many,” I admitted.

She tilted her head up to look at me, and I swear looking in her eyes was like getting punched in the gut. Christ, I’d slept with little Olive Blake. I felt things for her. I couldn’t tell her how I wanted to roughen and ruin her body while she looked at me like that.

“Good,” she replied. “What better time or place than this? Who better than us?”

She was right. No strings. Snowed in. Friends.

But I felt strings snapping into place between us. I also felt the siren call of Olive’s willingness. My desire to finally unleash had been in place far longer than any strings.

Still couldn’t quite find the words to tell her what I needed from her.

My phone started to vibrate on the coffee table, and I let out an unapologetic snort. Saved by the bell. For now.

That would be my parents checking in, reminding me that there was a real world outside these wood-paneled walls. With Olive, it was easy to forget anything but us existed.

She groaned as I moved to get up. “But you’re so warm.” She squeezed me tight, like her embrace could keep the world away from us.

“My bed will be more comfortable,” I pointed out.

I needed to get this condom off. We needed to finish painting and cleaning my room so we could dirty it again.

“You’re right.” She sat up, smirking down at me. “Acting out your fantasies will be our reward for finishing your room.” She dropped a kiss on my lips, melting me.

I brushed hair out of her face, winding my fingers through the silky strands. “What about your fantasies?”

“Already told you.” She gave me another kiss. “You are my fantasy.”

My dream girl leapt up from our little cocoon, her delectable body on display, and strutted off. Shivering with want, I shucked off the condom and tossed it in the kitchen trash. Then I wrapped myself up in the blanket and sat my ass on the couch to call my parents back. Nothing could kill a mood faster than a chat with the parental units. We kinda needed it though, or we’d never get any real work done, and I could tell how much this project meant to Olive. Girl was a go-getter.

“Hi, hon!” Anita’s bright voice chirped through the speaker.

Yup, worked like a charm.

“Hey, Anita.”

“We saw the snowstorm alerts come through. Are you and Olive okay? Do you have power?”

My dream girl joined me on the couch, back in my college T-shirt, with two cups of coffee in hand.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just drinking coffee and watching the snow.”

She smirked at my partial truth as she handed me a mug. I could not take my eyes off her. Screw the snow.

“We’re finishing up a little remodel project today,” Olive added.

Now she’d done it. If I heard Anita say “woman’s touch” one more time…

“Are you? Thank God. That place sorely needs a woman’s touch. What do you have in mind, Olive?”

I snickered into my coffee as the two went off into their own conversation, making plans for the house neither lived in. But I secretly loved it. Olive had great ideas, and seeing her cozied up in my clothes chatting easily with my stepmom did things to my insides.

“Sounds amazing,” Anita was saying.

“Olive is incredible,” I agreed, jumping in. “Construction is clearly in her blood. My room finally looks like it’s from this century.”

She poked me with her big toe, scrunching her nose at me. I grabbed her foot in retaliation, laughing silently at her attempts to stay quiet as I threatened tickling.

“Well, we’re sure sorry you missed out on your big vacation with your friend, but it sounds like you two are having fun together.”

I’m sure Anita was dying to know more, but my lips were sealed. They’d stay sealed, long after Olive was gone.

“He’s all right, I guess,” Olive answered.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” I mouthed.

“I hope so,” she mouthed back.

I fought a groan. What was I going to do without this enticing woman who spread joy like glitter?

More importantly, what was I going to do with her?

We worked quickly, Olive taking the charcoal gray accent wall and me the three white walls. I tried not to rush the paint job —it was my bedroom, after all—but sex with her was highly motivating.

The ways I wanted to dominate her body whispered to me as I worked. Aside from her playlist, pop rock this time, we were silent, and the longer my mouth stayed shut, the more tense my body became.

I yearned to tell Olive what I wanted for us both, but for the first time with her, I couldn’t. I didn’t even comment on how much better the outdated wood paneling looked after two coats of paint.

By the end of a couple hours, my room was unrecognizable and I was wound tighter than a bowstring.

I dropped the roller and brush carelessly in the paint tray. I’d fucked her a dozen ways already in my head and glanced at her so often that my eyeballs should have been stuck sideways. My throat hurt from keeping words at bay.

Olive was on a step stool, her back to me, scrutinizing the accent wall up close with a brush in hand. I wanted to run my hands up her bare legs, but I settled for wrapping them around the stool’s handle. The backs of her thighs flush with my face were a prelude of what I had planned.

“Olive.”

She turned, looking down at me from her perch. “Wyatt.” Her sexy smirk made me want to do bad, bad things.

I did touch her legs then, cupping her calves and kissing above her knees. First the right, then the left. Her exhalations serenaded me. I took the little paint cup and brush and set them on the floor so her hands could be free. Scratch that. So her hands could be on me. She dragged her nails through my hair as I continued to kiss and caress my way up her thighs.

“First, I owe you a punishment,” I whispered into her skin, finally setting the words free. “I’m going to spank this ass so raw that I can think about nothing else when I see the color red.”

The noise that escaped her mouth went straight to my cock. Her fingers flexed in my hair, pulling the curls tight. I slid my hands under her shorts to the soft flesh of her ass and squeezed, continuing my confession.

“Then, you’re going to let me tie you up and make you mine. You’ll be tied up and aching for my touch. Thrashing. Moaning. Begging without words.”

I flicked my gaze up to hers. Her parted lips and blown-out pupils gave me fuel. Permission.

Hooking my fingers in her shorts, I yanked them down. They dropped to her feet, leaving her slit bare to me. I grasped behind her thighs and leaned forward, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her. Of us.

She mewled my name while hanging onto my head for balance. “I want that,” she said, voice as soft as snowflakes. “I want you.”

“You have me.” I allowed myself a long, leisurely lick through her center. Her taste, her instinctive arch into my mouth, nearly killed me. But I kept exploring because, damn , she was delicious. After a final plunge into my favorite place on Earth, I leaned back to look in her eyes. “I don’t want to be gentle. I want to be dirty and selfish and rough. I’m going to fuck you hard and make you come harder.”

A smile made of sin spread across her face. She took two steps down onto the floor, where my hands encircled her waist. “I’m going to take your power away,” I added, kissing the tip of her nose. “But I promise to take care of you.”

Her arms went around my neck. “Luckily for you, I like dirty. I like rough. And I like you, old man.”

Gratitude bloomed in my chest. Olive in my arms was my favorite Christmas gift ever.

“You’re all mine now, little Olive. All mine. Get naked and get on my bed while I find something to tie you up with.”

I had no idea where my only tie was, so I had my mind on kitchen string when I dashed off to find restraints. I found something better in the junk drawer, though. More seasonally appropriate. I grabbed the box of condoms off the living room floor, too.

I was unprepared for the sight when I returned to my room. The changes we’d made were great, but board and batten had nothing on the naked woman curled on my bed in the center of the room like a dirty dream come true.

My mouth dried out. I was like Clark Griswold when he met the hot salesgirl.

Olive’s raven hair covered my pillows, her legs tucked to the side and breasts straight up. Those big, perky tits made my palms itch. Her fingers, those bright pink nails, trailed up and down from her sternum to her navel.

“Get your fill,” I growled. “This will be the last time you touch yourself for a while.”

I moved to the end of my bed so I could watch. With a grin that could only be described as evil , Olive ran her hands oh so slowly over her breasts. Squeezing. Pulling at the nipples. Her hand splayed over her chest and glided down, way down, her legs falling open. Smirking, she ran one finger through her slick center.

I might have died a little. I definitely ditched my clothes with no memory of taking them off. Grabbing her by the ankles, I yanked my dream girl closer.

“Here are the rules,” I said, capturing her wrists and holding myself above her. “The only words you’re allowed to say are ‘more’ and my name. Safe word is meatloaf.”

She snorted. “Deal. I want to add one.”

I could not imagine a sexier sight than Olive—naked—in my grasp and powerless below me. “What’s that, my little Olive?”

She paused, blinking at me before replying. “After my punishment , nothing from behind. I want to watch you, Wyatt. I want to see everything.”

Damn. This woman. Straight up kill shots to the heart.

I nodded. “Done.”

Moving back down to her ankles, slowly, caressing every inch, I flipped her onto her stomach. She got on her hands and knees without prompting. I knelt on the bed behind her. A chuckle darker than I thought myself capable of rumbled through my chest. Her perfect backside was mine, her lithe body mine to play with.

My palms traced the curve of her bum. I spread her cheeks apart, learning her by sight. Olive was shaved and already glistening. I gave a long, leisurely lick of every part that I could reach. I would never tire of her gasps or the moves she made on instinct when I touched her. I tweaked her nipples, earning a keening moan. Licking and lapping and pinching, I worked us up. Then I pulled back, panting, hands back on her ass.

I nuzzled one cheek then the other, running my nose and lips along her soft skin. Drifting lower, I planted an open-mouth kiss where her thigh met her slick center then followed the kiss up with a nip of teeth.

A word almost escaped—I think it might have been “yes”—and Olive barely caught herself in time.

The sound of my hand meeting her skin was better than I’d imagined. Sharp. Unmistakable. My cock started to weep. I slapped her other cheek and watched as pink bloomed. Again. Harder. Olive’s eyes met mine, lips parted and panting. Other cheek. I relished the way her ass bounced, the wave of motion I created. I wanted to swallow the gasps that escaped her pretty mouth.

I stopped to fondle my cock and take another dip into her wet center with my tongue. She threw her head back, seemingly unable to stop whimpering. Olive bucked against my face, and I about lost it when she moaned my name.

“Good girl,” I growled into her core. “Good girl.”

My hands went back to her cheeks, setting a primal rhythm. The splotchy redness darkened each time. Spanking her made me hard to the point of pain. I had to stop. Her cries, increasingly desperate, made it worse. Or better. Olive made everything better.

I kneaded her ass hard. “You ready for me, gorgeous?”

The sassy look she threw over her shoulder incinerated me. Ashes.

Chuckling, I grabbed her by the hips to flip her onto her back. “You were born ready for me,” I said, translating the look on her face. She nodded and my heart sang.

I guided Olive up the bed and positioned her at an angle so her wrists were near a bedpost and her body mine for the taking. Scooping up the Christmas ribbons from Anita’s presents, I secured her delicate wrists together and pressed a kiss on the pulse point of each before tying her to my bed.

For a moment, all I could do was stare.

Olive Blake was tied up in my bed with Christmas ribbons. This was the best day of my life.

In a daze, I rolled on a condom and dropped my hands to her hips, grip gentle this time. Her eyes met mine. My dream girl was made of sin and sunshine. Olive was what happiness looked like. Then my gaze dropped lower and my thoughts went to more shadowy places.

My big hands on her small waist. Those tits intent on killing me. Her every lovely inch. Mine.

Leaning down, I captured her plump lips for a brief, burning moment. “I respect the hell out of you, little Olive, but I’m gonna fuck you like I don’t.”

I spread her legs and sank into tight, warm bliss.

She whimpered between clamped lips while my groan filled the room.

My pace was punishing from the start. Olive and her sounds and her body and her trust made me wild. “You’re my dream, Olive,” I grunted as I slammed into her again and again. My hands wrapped around her ribcage, keeping her body flush with mine. “Every goddamn dream.” The way her tits bounced in time with my hips would star in every fantasy I had from now on.

Grabbing her ankles in one hand, I slowed the pace, taking my time sliding in and out. But I was too deep like that and I wasn’t ready for this dream to end. Instead, I pushed her legs to the side and held onto her hip as I fucked her faster. Olive’s lips were pressed together, keeping words in. Every time a “more” slipped out, I went harder. I fell harder.

“Fuck yes, Olive,” I groaned, pushing my pace.

I brought myself to the edge, gaze glued to hers, lost in the moment. Then I pulled out and fell on her pussy. That’s when the screaming started. I punished her with my mouth and tongue, cock straining, hands rough on her tits and ass.

She came in a rush of sweetness, and I almost didn’t make it back inside her. Those final few thrusts into her pulsing core wrecked me. I shouted to the heavens as my body spasmed, stars behind my eyelids and fire in my veins.

I’d never recover. Not from Olive. Not from this.

Somehow, I pried open my eyes and saw her staring at me. Smiling. Properly fucked and happy about it. I shook my head in awe. “You’re a goddamn gift, Olive. Thank you.”

She bit her lip but couldn’t hide the smile. “Untie me so I can hug you, old man.”

Yeah, I was gone.