Chapter 4: Surrender In The Snow
1077 Words
---
I arrived at seven sharp, later than he’d said, because I’d spent an hour parked down the street trying to talk myself out of this.
It didn’t work.
Snow fell in heavy, silent curtains. His house glowed warm against the dark, smoke rising lazily from the chimney. I grabbed the tin of Mom’s cookies—my flimsy excuse—and walked to the door on unsteady legs.
He opened it before I knocked.
Black button-down, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. Dark jeans. Bare feet. The sight of him stole what little breath I had left.
“Lila.” My name sounded like a promise and a warning. “Come in.”
I stepped inside, handing over the tin with trembling fingers. He set it aside without a glance and locked the door behind me. The click echoed.
His gaze traveled over me—black leggings, short burgundy coat, boots. Hair loose, lips red. He noticed everything.
“Take off your coat.”
I did. Slowly.
Underneath: a thin black silk camisole tucked into high-waisted leggings. No bra. The cold air and my nerves had tightened my n*****s against the silk.
His jaw clenched. “Christ.”
He closed the distance, backing me gently against the wall. Hands braced on either side of my head.
“You came,” he said, voice low. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
Something softened in his eyes, then darkened with hunger.
He kissed me—deep, deliberate, tasting every corner of my mouth. I melted into him, hands clutching his shirt. When his thigh pressed between mine, I instinctively rocked against him, a soft whimper escaping.
He pulled back, breathing hard. “Not here.”
He took my hand and led me down the hallway to his office. Firelight flickered across dark wood and leather. Snow drifted past the tall windows.
He locked the door. Turned to me.
“Safe word is ‘snow’,” he said quietly. “Say it anytime, and everything stops. No questions.”
I nodded, heart racing.
He crossed the room, cupped my face, and kissed me again—softer this time, almost reverent. His hands slid to the hem of my camisole, pausing.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
I swallowed. Now or never.
“I… I’ve never done this before.” The confession tumbled out, barely above a whisper. “I’m a virgin.”
He froze. Pulled back just enough to search my face, eyes intense.
“Never?”
I shook my head, cheeks burning. “I’ve done… some things. But not this. Not all the way.”
A long silence. I braced for disappointment, for him to send me home.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, something fierce and protective flashing across his expression.
“Thank you for telling me.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “We go as slow as you need. You’re in control, little one.”
The gentleness undid me more than any command could have.
He kissed me again—tender now, unhurried. Hands roaming over silk, learning my shape. When he lifted the camisole off, cool air hit my skin, but his gaze warmed me. He traced my breasts lightly, teasing until I arched into his touch.
He knelt, kissing down my stomach as he peeled away leggings and panties, leaving the boots on because he said they were sexy as hell. I stood naked before him, vulnerable, shaking.
He looked up, eyes dark. “You’re perfect.”
He guided me to the wide leather couch by the fire, laid me back on soft blankets he’d pulled from somewhere. Knelt between my thighs.
“Going to taste you first,” he murmured. “Relax for me.”
His mouth was warm, gentle at first—slow licks, soft suction that built pressure so sweetly I forgot to be nervous. When he slid one finger inside me, I tensed.
“Breathe,” he whispered against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
He worked me open carefully—tongue on my c**t, finger curling gently until I was writhing, pleading. A second finger joined, stretching, scissoring. The slight burn melted into pleasure.
I came with his name on my lips, thighs trembling around his shoulders.
He rose, undressing slowly—shirt unbuttoned, revealing a sculpted chest dusted with dark hair, faint scars I wanted to ask about someday. Jeans gone. He was thick, hard, intimidating.
He settled over me, careful not to crush.
“Still okay?”
“Yes.” More than okay. I wanted him closer.
He kissed me deeply as he rolled on protection—I hadn’t even noticed him grab it. Positioned himself at my entrance.
“Look at me,” he said.
Our eyes locked as he pushed in—slow, steady pressure. There was a sharp sting; I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
He stilled instantly. “Breathe, baby. Relax.”
Forehead against mine, he whispered soft praises—“So good for me, taking me so well”—until the pain eased into fullness. When I rocked experimentally, he groaned.
“f**k. You feel incredible.”
He moved carefully—shallow thrusts, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. Gradually deeper, faster, until pleasure overtook everything. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him on.
The fire crackled. Snow hushed against the windows.
He reached between us, thumb circling my c**t.
“Come with me inside you,” he commanded softly.
I shattered again, tighter this time, pulling him with me. He buried his face in my neck, groaning my name as he pulsed deep.
After, he cleaned me gently with a warm cloth from the adjoining bathroom, wrapped me in the blanket, and held me against his chest on the rug by the fire.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“More than okay.” I pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Thank you. For being careful.”
He tilted my chin up, eyes serious. “You never have to thank me for that. Ever.”
We dozed tangled together, fire dying to embers.
Later, he carried me to his bed—huge, soft sheets smelling like him. I fell asleep with his arm locked around my waist, snow still falling outside.
Three days until Christmas Eve.
I wasn’t a virgin anymore.
And I already belonged to him completely.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD