Page 18 of Snow Bound (Odyssey #1)

Chuckling, he picked up the bowl and took it to the microwave. Clearly , he was going to have to step up his game if he was going to tangle with this woman. With that in mind, he pulled out his phone and tapped out a text to Simon .

I need someone to go to my place for my toy bag and send it to me.

He was starting a fresh pot of coffee when his phone dinged with Simon’s response. Like that, is it?

He grinned. And while you’re at it, I need some gear from the office.

The microwave beeped just as he hit send on the list of things he wanted, he set his phone down and grabbed a dishtowel. Using it as a hot pad, he carried the steaming bowl over to the breakfast bar, then went back to fill his mug with fresh coffee. By the time he sat down, Simon had replied.

When did I become your errand boy?

Grant stuck his spoon into the oatmeal. It stood straight up when he let go of it to pick up his phone. When you told the whole office I got tagged in the balls.

He didn’t actually know if Simon had done so, but that’s what Grant would’ve done in his place, so he figured it was a good bet.

Worth it, came the immediate reply. I’ll send Zach over for your gear, get it shipped out this afternoon.

Overnight it, Grant instructed and dumped the whole dish of brown sugar into his oatmeal. Going by consistency alone, he figured it desperately needed the help.

You have any idea what that’s going to cost?

Bill me, Grant replied, and prepared to eat his breakfast.

Anna had heard Grant come in from outside, followed by the little bumps and bangs as he moved around the kitchen. She assumed he’d seen the breakfast she’d laid out for him, and had gotten the message.

She’d been sitting on the sofa for close to forty minutes—naked, as instructed—pretending to concentrate on her cross-stitch while listening for any sign of movement from the kitchen.

She was wound so tight that when he finally did walk into the room, it took every ounce of control she had to keep from jumping like a scared rabbit.

“Morning.”

She painted a look of mild surprise on her face— golly-gee, where did you come from? —and smiled. “ Oh . Morning .”

He walked over to the sofa and her eyes widened—for a second it seemed like he was going to just snatch her right up. But he stopped in front of her and sat on the coffee table. “ How’d you sleep?”

She wanted to clear her throat, but it would’ve ruined the oh-so-casual-and-relaxed effect she was going for, and it was hard enough to pull off, sitting there in her birthday suit.

He looked really good, tousled and a little scruffy, wearing another one of those lumberjack-porn flannel shirts.

“ Fine . I was a little restless, but I read for a bit. That always makes me sleepy.”

“Hmmm.” His eyes were darker than usual, hooded. As though there were secrets there he didn’t want her to see. He glanced at the fabric in her lap. “ Is that what you were working on last night?”

“Yeah.” She turned the half-finished sampler so he could see it. “ It’s counted cross-stitch.”

“‘Dick is’,” he read and looked up. “ Dick is what?”

“‘Abundant and of low value’.”

He choked out a laugh. “ What ?”

“It’s for my friend Lola . She wants to hang it in her office, right above her desk so visitors can see it clearly.”

“Your friend’s a little scary.”

“That’s what I like about her.”

“No doubt. You doing anything else right now?”

“Um. No .” She angled her head. He had a look in his eye that made her pulse pick up speed. “ Why ?”

He stood, taking her blanket with him. He tossed it aside. “ Because you owe me a blowjob,” he said and reached for his belt.

She watched, trying not to drool, while he unbuckled, unsnapped and unzipped. He didn’t bother to shove his pants and boxers down, just reached in and hauled out his dick, already half hard. Eager to touch, to taste, she reached out—and promptly had her hand slapped away.

She scowled. “ Ow .”

His face was a stern mask. “ You don’t get to touch.”

Heart pounding, arousal humming, she worked up a smirk. “ I don’t know how you normally do this, but where I come from blowjobs involve touching.”

His eyes gleamed—laughter and lust. “ Smart ass. Hands behind your back.”

She obeyed—slowly, it wouldn’t do to look too eager—and kept her eyes on his. Mostly so she wouldn’t stare at his dick, six inches away from her mouth and looking tastier than any dick had a right to. But also because blowjobs with eye contact drove men wild.

And oh, she wanted him wild.

She linked her fingers together behind her back, shoved her boobs forward, and licked her lips. “ Yes , Sir .”

He fisted his dick, eyes gleaming. “ Sir , huh?”

“I’m trying to be good,” she said sweetly and fluttered her lashes.

His dimples flashed under his morning scruff. “ We’ll see how long that lasts. Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips, shaping her mouth into a sexy little O .

“Wider.”

She hesitated for a second—wider would cross the line from sexy to obscene—then obeyed.

“Wider.”

Any wider and she was going to look like a carp gulping for air, she thought, annoyed, but obediently stretched her mouth as wide as it would go.

“Now hold still,” he said and shoved his dick into her mouth.

He hit the back of her throat, making her gag, and she instinctively reared back. His hand moved, quick as a snake, to the back of her head to hold her in place. “ I said don’t move.”

Eyes watering, throat convulsing around him, she fought to bring the panic under control. He pulled out and she sucked in a desperate breath, not realizing she’d closed her mouth until he slapped his dick against her lips. “ Open .”

Breathing hard, she looked up at him. Eyes gleaming like blue ice, his expression like stone, he raised one eyebrow expectantly.

She sucked in a bracing breath and obeyed.

He skull fucked her.

The leisurely, sensual blowjob she’d had in mind was nowhere in sight, in its place was a frenzied, almost violent face fuck that had spit and snot rolling down her face, her eyes blurry with tears.

She twisted her fingers together behind her back, hanging on for dear life as she tried to time her breathing with his pumping dick.

He had both hands on her head now, controlling how she moved, when she moved, and it was almost as much of a fight to stay relaxed in his grip as it was to breathe.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the gluck-gluck-gluck of his dick plunging into her throat. “ Give me your throat.”

Give? she thought wildly as tears streamed down her face and drool dripped off her chin. There was no give, just take, and the utter helplessness of the moment was shockingly, overwhelmingly arousing.

He’d barely touched her, hardly acknowledged her as he fucked her throat like it was a Fleshlight or his own fist. He was focused on his own needs, showing no regard for her pleasure or comfort, and only yesterday she’d have said, with confident certainty, that such a scenario didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. But her pussy was making a liar out of her, so wet she could only be grateful she’d spread a blanket over the sofa cushions, and her nipples were hard.

“I think I’ve figured out how to keep you from sassing me,” he said and she looked up, straining to see past the flapping fly of his jeans to his face. He was smirking, dimples winking and eyes gleaming with triumph.

She gurgled a laugh—the best she could do under the circumstances—and a spasm crossed his face. “ Do that again,” he ordered and she did, vibrating her throat around his dick.

He tightened his grip on her hair, making her scalp sting, and his hips pumped faster.

She let out a sputtering cough, spurring him on.

“ Yeah , choke on it,” he ground out, shoving his dick so far down her throat his balls brushed her chin.

He held it there, cutting off her air, the spasms of her throat battering his invading dick. “ Fuck , that feels good.”

He dragged himself free and she sucked in a breath, then he was back, holding himself deep again before letting her breathe once more.

The pattern repeated over and over, choking her on his dick until panic began to lick at the edges of her mind, then he’d pull free just long enough for her to suck in some oxygen before doing it again.

“Gonna fucking come,” he ground out, the words dim and distant through the ringing in her ears. “ Right down your throat.”

She would’ve cheered if she had the breath, would have sped up the blowjob if she’d had any control.

Since she didn’t, all she could do was hang on while his dick pummeled her already bruised throat and drool continued to drip down her chin.

His movements were getting jerky and uncoordinated, his grip on her hair vicious.

“Look at me,” he demanded, jerking her head back. His dick slipped out of her mouth, slapping wetly against her chin. He untangled one hand from her hair to shove it back in while she blinked up at him with streaming eyes. “ Look at me when I come in your mouth.”

She struggled to keep her eyes open, her aching neck tilted back. His dick hit the roof of her mouth, the angle wrong to get back down her throat, but that didn’t stop him.

“Suck it,” he commanded, jerking the slick shaft with a tight fist, bumping against her chin. “ That’s what you wanted. Suck it.”

Her jaw ached like a bad tooth, but she curled her tongue around him and hollowed her cheeks, sucking as hard as she could.

“Swallow every fucking drop,” he commanded, his eyes glittering like blue fire, then a groan rumbled up from his chest and his dick jerked in her mouth and he came.

She swallowed fast, gulping to keep up. Some dribbled out past the seal of her lips, dripping down her chin, his cock, his hand while she stared up at him, her eyes locked on his until finally, he pulled his spent dick free of her mouth.

She sat, panting and blinking residual tears from her eyes while he tucked himself away and zipped his jeans. “ Stand up.”

She stood on legs gone weak and shaky with lust, then let out a gasp when he bent, put his shoulder to her belly, and hoisted her over his shoulder.