The Snow Maiden Read Free

intimate conversation.
    I sank into the chair and let him tend to my aching slit. He stroked along the leg of my panties, dipped in to tap along my swollen flesh. His cock leaped against my outer thigh and I moved to stroke it. He pressed against my hand for a moment, then breathed into my ear, “Let’s make this about you.”
    “No, no.” I mouthed it, but he understood my need. I wanted to come and he was taking his sweet time. His incredibly sweet time. I grabbed at his wrist as I squirmed. “Let me…”
    His smile dawned, smooth as sips of cappuccino foam. “You don’t have to work for it. Let me give it to you.” His lips plucked at the thin gold chain at my neck and passion wove over me like a tapestry, intricate and beautiful, engulfing me in layers of bliss.
    “Open for me.” He was intent on my every move, my every sound, even though his own lids were heavy with passion. He found my rhythm and amplified it, until the thrumming fired my blood. My world shrank. It was only him and the melodious hum spread throughout my body.
    His pace changed and I thought I’d lost my chance at orgasm. Again. A scathing remark came to the edge of my tongue. It never left my lips. He plunged two fingers deep into me and held them there as my cunt pulsed around them. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
    “Sip your drink, baby.” I could barely hold the glass steady, but when it reached my lips I guzzled the remainder of the icy liquid. The moment I finished, he parted his fingers, stretching me until my summery walls leaked honey.
    Then his fingers retreated and I mourned the loss of his heated invasion. My hips lifted, tried to follow his fingers as they left my clutching flesh. My nipples, stone hard, chafed against the inside of my bra and I longed to pinch them, tug at them.
    My hand clutched at his arm and he returned to tease, like a hummingbird darts around a chosen blossom before plunging between the vibrating petals for nectar. My vision swam and the entire bar wavered as a haze of passion covered my vision like a silken blindfold. He brushed aside my hair and placed his moist lips on the delicate skin beneath. When his thumb rolled over my pearl, I spread my thighs as far as my skirt would allow me and tilted my pelvis upward to receive him as deeply as possible. I relished his masculine grunt of approval.
    I held the empty glass to my lips to muffle my whimpers at his skillful movements. “Is this where you need it, right inside your pink?”
    Before I could respond, his fingers sank deep, curled and flicked. My body quaked when his thumb made dizzying circles on my puffy clit, faster with each rotation, until his sopping fingers slid wildly over my slick pussy.
    “Mercy,” I gasped.
    “Fresh out.” He added a third digit and pressed. His mouth on mine absorbed first my whimpers, then my protests as he slipped his hand from me. He dipped into the old-fashioned glass with its melting ice before returning to my scorching cunt. My snug channel stretched to accommodate the probing and I ground my hips down onto his hand.
    My orgasm mounted and my hand on the bar began to tremble. He took it in his free one and pressed it against the straining fabric of his jeans. I was about to come and he knew it. He stayed close with murmured words of encouragement and kisses along my neck as I bucked against his firm hand. A few beckoning motions against the spongy flesh of my G-spot and my orgasm broke. It rocked me back on the barstool and he was there, taking the weight of my body against his and capturing my mouth to swallow my screams. His feverish touches carried me through the orgasm, wrung another hip-bucking spasm and another, and finally mewling whimpers of satiety.
    He stroked my hair as I came down, my face buried in his crisp shirtfront. My breath came in pants and gasps as I rode out the final convulsions of my climax. He feathered a lingering kiss on my damp forehead.
    “Let’s get out of here,” he