Frozen Heart Page 8

  It was not the greatest blow job I’d ever had, and yet, somehow… it was totally the best one I’d ever had. Because it was Alex.

  I wanted him to truly understand that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but I knew that couldn’t happen overnight. Even so, the fact that he was trying so hard to move past his guilt and shame and self-loathing touched something deep inside me.

  After four years of self-imposed exile and celibacy, Alex deserved to be happy.

  And I wanted to be the one who made him happy.

  There was no doubt that he made me happy. Very, very happy. He was very obviously not an expert, but he improved rapidly, and in only moments I felt heat and pressure building inside me. Before it could rise to an irresistible peak, I caught at his hair and gently urged him to stop. He let go of me with a popping sound, strands of saliva glistening at the corners of his mouth. He wiped it all away with the back of his hand and looked up at me.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his forehead creasing. “Because I honestly don’t mind—”

  I was pretty sure he was not ready to swallow, and that he’d probably wind up choking and gagging and maybe freaking out, but I wasn’t going to argue about it. “I told you already,” I said instead, “I want to make love to you, Alex. And if you keep that up, I’m going to be out for the count in about thirty seconds.”

  “All right.” The eagerness faded from his eyes, leaving them as cold and emotionless as ever. He rose to his feet and sat down beside me, very stiffly. “How do we proceed?”

  “Hey, don’t freeze up on me.” I put a hand on his thigh and stroked it, very softly, through the fabric of his slacks. Slowly, I felt him relax.

  “I don’t mean to freeze up.” His voice was soft. “It’s just that—”

  “Yeah, I get it, Alex. I totally get it. But don’t worry. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget everything else.”

  A shiver ran through his big frame, and I cautiously moved my hand up his thigh, toward the unmistakable bulge in the fabric. Giving me head had apparently turned him on big-time—emphasis on big. He was definitely hard, and as my hand moved upward, I could see his cock twitching eagerly, straining to escape his slacks.

  “That’s got to be uncomfortable,” I said softly, and began unfastening his belt.

  When I gently pushed down his white briefs, his cock sprang out and bobbed like a frigging jack-in-the-box. Oh, yeah, he was hard. So hard. I could see the head glistening in the faint light, and I couldn’t resist reaching down and swiping my thumb over the sensitive flesh.

  He groaned and shuddered.

  I could tell he was really wound up at the prospect of being fucked. He was probably also scared as hell, but with any luck the excitement would win out over the fear. I hoped, anyway.

  I stroked him again, then pushed him down on his back and tugged his pants off. He was cooperative enough, toeing off his leather shoes, then lifting his hips and letting me strip him down to nothing. I pulled off his socks, got rid of that stupid, stupid undershirt…

  And suddenly Alexander Rutherford Snow III was butt naked in the starlight.

  All the breath whooshed out of me. He was far and away the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, so strong and powerful, yet so vulnerable. His muscles were tensed, like on some level he was ready to flee, and there was a look in his eyes that made my heart clench. He wanted this, wanted it desperately, and yet I could see the raw animal fear lurking just beneath the surface.

  I bent over him and kissed him on the mouth, gently and tenderly. He responded, his lips moving against mine, and when I lifted my mouth away I heard the rough, uneven sound of his breathing.

  “Like I told you before,” I whispered, “we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Not ever.”

  “I want this.” His voice wavered. “I want you. It’s just…”

  “It’s scary. I know. But it’s not dirty or disgusting or wrong, okay? It’s okay to do what you want, to be with whoever you want to be with. It’s okay to enjoy yourself.”

  A long pause.

  “Okay,” he whispered at last. “This is what I want.”

  I breathed, slowly and steadily, trying to chill out my racing heart. For a moment, I’d been terrified that he’d run for it, or worse, send me away. Try to fire me again, maybe. The fact that he was willing to try this with me, despite the fears that obviously racked him, made me warm all over.

  I intended to make sure he forgot all his fears by the end of the night.

  I lowered my head again and began brushing kisses all over his front. His broad, muscled shoulders; his bulging pecs; the flat, toned slab of his stomach. I didn’t neglect the more tender areas, like his nipples and his balls, either. Before long he was sprawled out on the big lounge, his eyes closed, his muscles relaxed, his chest heaving.

  I teased his cock, licking slowly up the long, thick shaft, then swiping around the head in warm, wet circles. He groaned, his hands fisting in the quilt beneath him, and his hips jerked convulsively.

  “Roll over,” I told him.

  His eyes immediately flickered open, and he stared at me with suspicion. “Why?”

  “Because I said so. Do it.”

  After a second of indecision, he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the soft cushion. I lowered my head again and began pressing soft kisses to the small of his back, drifting down toward his gorgeous tight ass. His butt was a thing of beauty, and I hadn’t had much of a chance to admire it yet, so I took my time, kissing his taut cheeks thoroughly until he was moaning and panting beneath me.

  And then I swiped my tongue down his crack.

  He yelped and convulsed violently, bucking like a bronco. I promptly tumbled off the lounge and fell on my own ass, hard.

  “Ow!”

  He lifted his head and peered cautiously at me over the edge of the lounge, speaking in an uncharacteristically meek tone.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. But why’d you move like that?”

  “You startled me,” he said plaintively.

  I blew out an annoyed breath. “Look, you do know how this works, right?”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded meeker than before. “I didn’t mean to react that way.”

  “It’s okay.” I stood up, discovering that my ass was splinter-free. Which figured—billionaires probably have servants to sand their porches every day so they don’t have to deal with splinters, or something. “I’m sorry, Alex. I guess I went too fast for you.”

  “I’m fine.” His voice wavered again. “I’m ready.”

  I sat down next to him and placed a reassuring hand on the small of his back.

  “No, you’re not. But you will be. Don’t worry.”

  I started kissing him again, starting at the nape of his neck and working my way downward, more slowly and carefully this time, lavishing kisses and strokes of my tongue over every inch of his magnificently muscled back. By the time I’d reached his gorgeous ass a second time, he was squirming. This time, when I ran my tongue down his crack, he only groaned.

  I parted his cheeks with my hands and delved between them with my tongue, and he jolted, but didn’t toss me onto my butt again. He spoke in a low rumble, trying to smother the words in the quilt. But I heard them anyway.

  “Fuck. Fuck.”

  I knew by now that when his defenses had fallen enough to use that word, it was a good sign. I kept exploring him, rimming him gently, and slipping my tongue right into him every now and again, until he was moaning nonstop.

  At last I sat up, found my discarded jeans, and dug out the little bottle of lube I’d brought along. I drizzled a bunch on his heated flesh, and more on my fingers, and started carefully working it in.

  He whimpered, and I paused in my efforts.

  “You okay, Alex?”

  “God, yes.”

  He spoke with such heartfelt enthusiasm that I almost laughed. I managed to contain myself, since I thought he might not app
reciate being laughed at right now, and went on exploring him. Before long I’d slipped a finger into the incredibly tight ring of muscle, and he hissed, clenching up reflexively.

  “Relax, Alex. Take it easy.”

  I felt him consciously relax, felt the pressure on my finger let up. I paused a moment, letting him get used to the feeling, and then started sliding it in and out. He must’ve liked it, because he went right back to moaning.

  Before long I had two fingers in him, then three, stretching him as best I could. At last I crooked my fingers, very carefully, and found his prostate.

  He howled.

  It was the only word I could come up with to describe the sound that came out of his mouth. I paused, worried I’d hurt him, but he gasped go on, go on, so I did.

  I stroked him from the inside, gently but firmly, until he was shaking all over, incoherent noises mixing with curse words and my name, all jumbled up together. At last I pulled my fingers out, despite his disappointed whimper, and found a condom.

  “I’m clean,” I informed him. “I’ve been checked recently, and I’m clean. But we’re using a rubber anyway.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Just hurry up.”

  I paused a moment to look at him. His skin was slick with sweat, and he was panting, a low, rough sound, like he’d just run twenty miles. I was pretty sure that he was ready, that he wanted this so badly that he wouldn’t suddenly freak and run. I hoped.

  I really, really hoped. Because I wanted this too. I wanted him, so badly I could barely stand it.

  I rolled the condom on, then slicked myself up with more lube and positioned myself behind him.

  “Lift up your hips,” I told him.

  He pulled his knees up under him obediently, raising his ass in the air. I saw he was still trembling, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t all from pleasure.

  “You sure you want this, Alex?”

  “I want it.” His voice was a raw gasp. “I want you—please, Nash—now—”

  It didn’t get much clearer than that. He might be scared, but he was determined to do this, wanted to do it, so I leaned forward, and let the head of my cock press against him. My cock wasn’t as epically huge as his, but I’d never had any complaints. He didn’t complain, either. He moaned and pressed back against me, so I flexed my spine, rolling my hips forward, and slipped inside.

  I’d always tended to bottom, mostly because when guys see a young, short, pretty guy they tend to assume he’s a bottom. I didn’t mind that. But I also liked being the top, and I had to admit that the feeling of power that came from fucking someone like Alex—a big, powerful, strong guy who could easily break me in two if he wanted—was pretty damn heady. The way he shuddered and moaned and begged for more was pretty damn exciting, too.

  I didn’t dare go too fast, because he was really tight, but I slipped in another inch or two, and he cried out my name.

  Jesus. Jesus. I seriously regretted letting him go down on me now, because I was way too close to the edge already. I wasn’t even sure I was going to get all the way inside him before I came. And Alex deserved so much better. He deserved to be made love to, slow and sweet, for hours.

  Instead he was going to be lucky if I managed two minutes.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex

  Having Nash inside me was incredible, and like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I’d had plenty of sexual encounters in my life, of course, and I’d enjoyed them all quite thoroughly. But having a man fill me, stretch me, was a completely different sensation, as if I was giving myself up to his control.

  Until now, I’d never surrendered control of any situation to anyone.

  I found that I liked it.

  Like was in fact a pale, feeble, and wholly inadequate word to describe the experience. It would be more accurate to say I reveled in it. As Nash sank deeper into my body, I felt myself to be utterly transported, lost in a haze of joy and elation. He’d broken all my walls down, shattered all my defenses, and now… now I was his.

  He pushed deeper into me, filling me as I’d never been filled before, completing me, and before long the pressure and heat inside me was almost more than I could bear. The tension inside me twined and twisted until it was wound impossibly tight. I needed—I needed—

  Once he’d filled me entirely, he began moving in and out of me, slowly and deliberately, and all at once I realized this was what I’d been craving. I needed to be fucked by him. Every thrust sent shimmering pleasure through me, and I felt my already-wet skin break out afresh in beads of sweat, felt my thighs begin to shake. My hands fisted in the quilt beneath me as I hung on for dear life.

  His hands dug into my hips, holding me steady, and he thrust harder. I’d expected it to hurt, at least a little, but it didn’t. It felt strange and wonderful, an exquisite and overwhelming sensation that took my breath away. I heard myself crying out with every deep thrust. Behind me, he moaned, and the knowledge that he was just as transported as I was almost sent me over the precipice.

  My balls ached and my cock throbbed, and I gasped, struggling to keep myself together. I wanted this glorious new experience to last forever, wanted it to never, ever end. But then he reached down with one hand, grasped my cock, and began jerking it firmly, and I was lost. Ecstasy flared inside me, exploding in burst after burst, as I came in a shuddering rush. I felt his hips jerk erratically, heard him cry out, and I knew he’d found his orgasm too.

  Afterward, he pulled out of me, and we collapsed on the cushion together. His head rested on my shoulder, and I found myself holding him, kissing his forehead tenderly. Which was strange, as I had never before thought of myself as a cuddler. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  Before long, though, I drifted into a vague state of semi-consciousness, and the feel of him pulling away from me only roused me slightly. He came back with a warm washcloth, and sponged me off with tender care. I was scarcely awake enough to be appreciative.

  But when he perched uncertainly on the edge of the lounge, I sensed through my drowsiness that he was considering leaving me. I groped blindly for his hand, found it, and tugged, dragging him back down onto the lounge.

  We pulled the quilt over ourselves, and fell into a deep slumber beneath the stars.

  ✽✽✽

  When I woke again, golden rays of early morning sunlight shone in my face. I blinked against the excessive brightness, and turned my head. Nash lay on his stomach next to me, limbs sprawled in all directions, so that he took up a far greater percentage of the lounge than he was entitled to. He’d kicked off his half of the quilt, exposing his pert little ass to the morning light. Bright red hair stuck up in random tufts all over his head, making him look a bit like a brightly hued vegetable brush, and in sleep his face was slack and his mouth hung open. He was, I noticed, drooling onto the lounge cushion.

  He was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen in my life.

  I could have happily stared at him all morning, and in fact I did indulge in several very pleasant moments of Nash-gazing. But at last I rolled over onto my back, and stared at the sky instead. It was a beautiful deep blue, dotted with a few cottony wisps of clouds, and far above, silhouetted against the azure, seagulls whirled and danced. I heard their hoarse calls, distant and eerie, and nearer rang out the more tuneful, liquid songs of cardinals and mockingbirds and red-winged blackbirds.

  A warm breeze blew from the river, brushing over my bare skin, and a strange, alien sensation filled me. A feeling of contentment. A feeling of rightness. A feeling that for the first time in a very long time, everything was precisely as it should be.

  For the first time in a very long time, I felt… happy.

  I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers that were just beginning to bloom in the enormous beds around the house. I paid an army of gardeners to maintain the grounds, and yet all at once I realized I had no idea what flowers there might be in the beds. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d looked, or cared.


  Later, I promised myself, I’d walk around the property with Nash, hand in hand, and the two of us could admire the flowers together.

  Today was Saturday, but I rarely took weekends off, and ordinarily at this hour of the morning I’d be throwing on my suit, leaping into the Ferrari, and driving to work. But today, I thought, there was no need for any of that. Today, I didn’t have to be anywhere but here. Just for today, Snow and Associates could muddle along just fine without me.

  Because spring had come at last… and I was damn well going to enjoy it.

  Epilogue

  Nash

  “You can’t leave me, Nashville. You can’t.”

  I stiffened my spine against the pleading ice-blue eyes that gazed at me, and spoke as sternly as I could.

  “I’m sorry, Alex. But I have to.”

  I continued tossing the meager collection of personal items on my desk into a cardboard box. A card my parents had sent for my birthday, a little model of a Ferrari Alex had given me for the same occasion, a photo of the two of us at Busch Gardens. Alex had worn jeans and a t-shirt that day, for the very first time, and he’d looked incredible in them. He’d seemed to find them comfortable, because nowadays he wore them more often than not, outside of working hours.

  “Just because Barbara’s back—”

  “It’s not just Barbara,” I answered. “I mean, yeah, she was your assistant for ten years, and she totally deserves to have her job back now that she’s feeling better. But there’s also the whole sleeping-with-the-boss thing. I’m just not comfortable with it, Alex. I’ve been at Snow and Associates for six months now, and everyone thinks I’m going to try to sleep my way into being promoted to like the Executive Vice President In Charge of Parties or something.”

  We hadn’t managed to keep our relationship under wraps for very long. Alex had sworn he was ready to come out of the closet, but the first time a photo of us holding hands was featured on the local society page (beneath the huge headline BILLION DOLLAR BOYFRIENDS), he’d freaked, just as I knew he would. It had taken a week for me to talk him down from the ceiling.