He worships my skin and I know I’ll see the marks of his mouth painted on me in the morning.
“You ready for another?” He looks up at me from between my breasts.
“Another?” I gasp as he spreads the fingers already inside me wider.
“I know you love a challenge, and I bet your pussy is no different. Just know I’m not letting you leave until you come all over my fingers.”
The third finger stretches me and I can’t help but wonder if this is what taking his cock would be like. I reach for him, stroking his length through his pants as I move. He’s just as turned on by his need for me as I am by the sensations shining through my veins, collecting hot in my stomach.
Every muscle in my body quivers, brimming with the need to shatter. To break.
And I do. The orgasm consumes me in a heady wave and I fall right into Liam’s chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his hot skin.
He strokes my back, soothing me in the sanctuary of his arms. “Oh, that was all you, smart girl.”
We stay there until our skin is pruned and I know I can stand on my own without my legs turning into Jell-O. Liam grabs heated towels for us and we dry off the best we can without freezing before heading inside.
Up the stairs and outside our rooms we stand, dripping and in need of fresh clothes.
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
“Goodnight.” He steps up to me, kissing me softly as he cups my chin.
“Greedy,” I murmur.
“I have a week, Henri. I’m not wasting it.”
19
Liam
It’s six a.m., the air smells of burnt bacon, and someone is running down the hall with all the grace of a baby rhino.
Even before she yells, “Get up, bitches, it’s go time,” it’s pretty easy to guess it’s Pen. I roll over, covering my ears with a pillow.
A fist pounds at my door, rattling the hinges. “Liam!” Pen yells.
“It’s too early for this!” I shout back.
She cracks open the door and leans in the frame. a steaming mug in her hand. “Too bad, our trees have been ugly because we had to wait for your sorry ass. Take a nap after we’re done; I made coffee.”
“Do you ever sleep?” I take the mug and sip the contents. It’s nothing special, just a dark roast, but after last night I’ll need at least two more cups to get through the day.
“Don’t need to. That’s why I’m better than you.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” she says and walks to my bed before sitting on the edge. “So, you know how it’s impossible to get agood run in after ten with all the over-confident tourists taking on slopes that are too hard for them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I agreed to take on a café shift because a ton of the college students who usually run it are off for the week. But look outside and tell me that snow isn’t begging for someone competent to snowboard on it.” My eyes follow to where she’s pointing out the window. It snowed at least three inches last night—perfect dry powder formed under the ideal conditions that come frequently this time of year.
Just looking at it reminds me of mornings where I clung to a thermos of black coffee as my body carried me to the slope, and that first run that shot pure adrenaline through my veins.
Pen continues, taking my silence as rejection. “It would also show Dad that you’re a good, loyal worker bee. There’s also the fact that I’ll keep your fake relationship a secret if you do me this favor.”
