And in truth, why not? He’d saved my life! And he was beautiful too; much more handsome than any of the small handful of people I’d dated. The tiny subset of guys who I’d let kiss me like this, only not until after they’d taken me out and dated me of course.
Morgan!
The voice screamed again, and my body screamed right back. This man was my hero. My sexy savior. He’d pulled me from what was sure to be an icy grave. Dug with his hands until he practically had frostbite, just to shelter us from the wind and the cold.
My inhibitions lowered, and my hands roamed his body. My fingers found their way up his shirt, dancing across the rippled surface of his washboard abs. His body was amazing! The strongest and leanest I’d ever seen… much less touched like this.
I moaned into his mouth as we kissed some more. Every breath I took was his. It was like we were devouring each other, face to face. Melding together. Churning and writhing in our secure little shelter, unable to get enough.
“Oh!”
I gasped as he flipped me over. Suddenly I was on my back, the thick, comfortable down of the UMASS jacket being pressed down into the snow. My hero was on top of me now. Kissing me harder and with more urgency, on my lips… my neck…
On my shoulder…
Morgan, stop!
I didn’t want to stop. It was the one time in my whole life I wanted to think about nothing else but continuing! Everything with me had always been about stopping short and weighing my options. About calculation and consequences. About being pragmatic, to a fault.
But not here. Not now.
A hand worked its way up my shirt. I welcomed that too. While down below…
Down below, he was pushing my thighs gently apart with one knee. Crushing his body against mine. Working his way between my legs…
Oh my God.
I could feel him now as a growing pressure, all swollen and excited and hard. He was crushing against me still, but now he’d begun this delicious grinding too. A slow thrust of his hips, jabbing forward and into me, as he continued kissing and licking and touching.
Our eyes locked, and he stared at me wordlessly, questioningly. Our connection was drawn out in the silence of one long, beautiful moment.
Then I nodded.
Oh Morgan…
A second later he shifted and I could feel his bare legs, warm against my skin. Flesh against flesh. The bulge trapped between us now hard and unyielding and achingly free.
And so very, very big.
“Ohhhhh…”
I gasped as he entered me, pulling my panties to one side and burying himself in my warmth and depth. It felt magnificent. Like I was being made whole again. I clawed his back to bring him closer against me, savoring the hot feel of his chest against mine as the wind howled in protest, just above us.
It was crazy. Beyond crazy! Spreading my legs for this guy I just barely knew… screwing him in some hand-dug snow shelter, after surviving an avalanche.
Yet it was SO. FUCKING. GOOD.
“Yes…”
I closed my eyes and clawed him tighter, reveling in the feel of having him so deep inside me. I could feel the big muscles of his back, all coiled beneath his skin. The two round globes of his beautiful ass, tensing and untensing as he drove in and out of me.
Morgan… this is wrong!
How many times had I told myself that? Too many, for sure. Because in all honesty, this wasn’t wrong. In fact, it felt nothing but right.
“Fuck me…”
I gasped and bit down on my tongue. Had I said those words? I had! And yet it was exactly what he was doing. The words should be no more shocking than the act itself, really. And the act…