looked at him defiantly. “Because what’s the alternative?
Are you really going to get on a plane knowing that
everything you said you’d protect is burning? Because
that’s not the Angelo I know. That’s not the guy I fell
for.”
He ducked his head and pressed his cheek to mine, the
heat of him warming me as the freezing wind whipped
my hair against the other cheek. “Irina,” he said simply.
But my name contained all the anger, all the pain, all
the lust that I’d brought to him.
“Do you wish you’d never met me?” I asked. My eyes
were suddenly wet, burning saltiness threatening to
overspill.
His big hands squeezed my shoulders hard and he
crushed me against his chest. “You’re the best thing that
ever happened to me.” He kissed the soft skin below my
ear, then followed the line of my jaw to my lips and
kissed me, long and deep. “Alright, we’ll wait. We’ll sort
this mess out. But you’ve got to promise me: when all
this is done, we’re going to be together.”
I pressed my face to his chest and snuggled my cheek
into the deep, hard line between his pecs. “I promise.”
He pushed me back from him and his lips met mine,
hard against my softness. The raw heat of him made
me melt, my body wilting against his and my mouth
flowering open. He took possession of me, hands
stroking across my cheeks and into my hair, fingers
sinking deep into it as if it was the best thing he’d ever
felt. His tongue sought out mine and I came alive,
flexing and writhing against him as we twisted and
danced, my breasts soft against his chest. The kiss
changed. The mood changed. I could feel the outline of
his cock against his thigh, already hot and hard and still
swelling.
It felt like weeks since we’d seen each other. We didn’t
know when we’d see each other again.
Suddenly, his hands were on the buttons of my coat,
popping them one by one with quick efficiency. By the
time I broke the kiss, it was already open to my waist.
“We can’t,” I panted, looking around. We were two
black-clad figures at the edge of a vast white space. We
must have been visible for miles. “Not here!”
“Fuck ‘em,” panted Angelo. “If anyone’s watching, let’s
give them a good show.” And he unbuttoned my coat
the rest of the way, flinging the sides open. Underneath,
I was in a rust-colored sweater and black skirt with
black leggings. He shoved the coat down my arms and
then tossed it down on the snow.
He started kissing me again, this time open-mouthed
and hungry, and I groaned as I felt his hands slide
down over my ass and squeeze. Then they were rising,
slipping beneath the hem of my sweater to stroke the
bare skin beneath. God, his warmth felt so good, his
palms sliding over my back as if sculpting it, then his
thumbs circling on my stomach. “We can’t,” I gasped
again, having to twist my head to the side to escape his
furious kissing. “It’s freezing!” I left a cloud of white in
the air when I said it, proving my point.
“I thought you didn’t mind the cold?” he growled.
“Besides, I’ll warm you up.” And his hands rose higher,
up over my back, stroking over the elastic of my bra,
then around to my front, cupping my breasts, squeezing
them lightly, thumbs finding the nipples through the bra
and rubbing, Oh God….
His hands slid behind me again. Suddenly the clasp was
free and my bra went loose across my breasts. His
hands were on me in an instant, palming my breasts,
the nipples stiffening automatically at his touch. My
breath quickened, hitching faster and faster with each
brush of his hands—God, I was aching for him. He
never stopped kissing me, first sucking my top lip into
his mouth and nibbling gently on it, then drawing my
lower lip oh-so-slowly down, leaving me quivering. My
nipples were between his thumbs and forefingers now,
the nubs tight and hard as he rolled and stroked, the
heat pumping straight down between my legs….
Angelo growled as if he couldn’t wait any longer. He
grabbed the hem of my sweater and drew it slowly
upwards, taking my bra with it. I lifted my arms over
my head to help him but he didn’t speed up: he drew
the fabric up over me as slowly as if he was unveiling a
statue. I could feel his eyes on each inch of my bare
skin as it was revealed: my stomach, my chest...when
the sweater’s hem reached my breasts, he slowed down
almost to a stop, the fabric rising millimeter by slow
millimeter.
The top of it was already over my head, trapping me in
a cocoon of warmth, thin enough that it was translucent
but thick enough that it mostly blindfolded me. I could
see the brightness of the snow around us and the huge,
dark shape of him in front of me, but not details. I
didn’t need to see him to know where he was looking,
though. I could feel his eyes eating me up, devouring
my breasts as they gradually appeared. The icy air blew
across my naked back and over my breasts, my nipples
throbbing and ultra-sensitive, every little gust of wind
magnified a thousand fold.
The dark shape in front of me leaned forward and I
squealed as a hot mouth enveloped one breast. The
heat of his tongue after the freezing air was shocking,
oven-hot and slickly wet. I had to press my thighs hard
together, my ass describing an “S” in the air as I
swayed and ground, the heat rising and building inside
me.
Then the sweater was tugged up and off me, falling to
the ground with my bra tangled within it. My hair fell
around my shoulders, strands tickling against my bare
skin. I let out a long breath, forming a soft cloud of
vapor in the air between us.
He put his hands on my waist and ran them up and
down my sides, the heels of his hands just brushing the
sides of my breasts—it was as if he was teasing himself,
drawing out the moment before he’d take them in his
hands again. Those brown and amber eyes were
burning, now, his gaze a scalding trail across my skin.
He let a long, shuddering gasp of lust, the white cloud it
left mixing with mine. Finally, when he couldn’t bear it
any longer, he filled his hands with my breasts and
pulled me close, squeezing rhythmically, his thumbs
brushing across my nipples as he kissed me hard and
deep.
The wind picked up, freezing one side of my body. I
pressed myself hard against him, letting the warmth of
him soak into me through his clothes. My hands wound
around his back and slid up under his jacket and
sweater, tracing the hard lines of his muscles. I started
to ease his jacket down his arms and off even as he
unzipped my skirt. Both of us were frantic, now,
needing to feel each other’s bodies. His jacket hit the
snow and then, a second later, my skirt fell around my
feet.
I lifted his sweater and t-shirt up and over his head,
kissing my way up his exposed chest an inch behind the
rising hem. The hardness of his abs against the softness
of my lips made me crazy, the heat inside me twisting,
becoming tight and frantic. I kissed up his centerline,
over smooth tan skin and then up to the dark ink of the
angel wings tattoo, lips tracing first one broad, curved
pec and then the other, my hands sliding around his
shoulders.
The heat of him blazed across the space that separated
us, searing away the cold. I crushed my body to his, me