Snowed In with the Bad Boy (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 1) Page 6

  But Ronan wanted her even hotter.

  I want this woman on fucking fire for me.

  He opened his mouth and exhaled slowly, blowing a warm, wet breath across her clit that sent goose bumps down her legs. Georgie tried to arch her hips to get closer, but Ronan held firm, his strong hands making her a prisoner to his every whim.

  “Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t like being teased,” he said. “Too bad you look so fucking good right now, all worked up, wondering what I’m gonna do next. When I’m gonna let you come.”

  “Ronan,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? I told you how things were gonna go tonight, baby. You had your chance.”

  “Don’t…” she stammered. “Don’t tease me. I can’t… I can’t… Please!”

  Without warning he clamped down on her thighs and pressed his face to that hot, sweet pussy, spearing her with his tongue. The taste of her was beyond his wildest fucking fantasies, a heady drug he’d happily overdose on.

  He released his hold on her thighs and cupped her ass in both hands. Free of his tight grip, Georgie rolled her hips, grinding that pussy hard against his face, driving him mad with lust. She wanted him hard and heavy, and he couldn’t get enough of her, the feel of her slippery flesh against his lips, the taste of her sweet cream as he shoved his tongue inside her, fucking her senseless with every stroke.

  He felt her getting closer, every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation, her skin glowing with sweat, her lips parted in a desperate gasp as she panted and moaned.

  Ronan couldn’t take it anymore. He had to make Georgie come—had to see what she looked like as he sent her right over the fucking edge.

  He thrust his fingers inside her tight pussy and sucked her clit, grazing it with his teeth as he pumped her hard and deep.

  “Ronan!” She thrashed on the table like a wild thing. “Oh my God. Ronan!”

  “That’s it, baby,” he urged. “Come hard for me. Now.”

  She shattered, her body arching off the table as the orgasm slammed into her, her pussy tightening around his fingers, pulsing against his skin, coating his mouth in her sweet honey. He slowed the thrust of his fingers as she crested, but before she came down, he pumped her again, thrusting harder and faster, bringing her right back to the edge. He grazed her clit with his teeth again, tonguing that pussy hard and fast as she came with another shuddering cry beneath his hot, wet mouth.

  Finally her body gave out, and she dropped back down onto the table, totally boneless. Ronan slumped backwards, landing in a chair, panting as hard as Georgie. His whole body was buzzing, and he was dizzy as fuck.

  Basking in the glow of her orgasm, Georgie lay perfectly still, legs spread before him on the table like an invitation to a God damn Christmas feast.

  Jesus fuck.

  He’d never taken a woman like that, so raw and desperate. And he’d never, ever had a woman run so hot for him, so responsive and willing. He hadn’t even gotten his dick wet, and Georgie had already fucking intoxicated him.

  Ronan scrubbed a hand over his mouth, her taste lingering on his tongue.

  Bad idea, man. Bad, bad idea.

  Sweet little Georgie Taylor was the kind of woman Ronan could get hooked on, real quick. And no matter how good she’d felt, how good she’d tasted, fuck… that was a vice he really didn’t need.

  But before Ronan could terminate the situation, Georgie slid down off the table, dropping to her knees before him.

  Without a word, she ran her hands up his thighs and unfastened his jeans, freeing his cock, the rock-hard bastard instantly taking command.

  Fuck you if you think you’re shutting this down now, Steel.

  Georgie’s fingers looked so small and delicate around his flesh, her eyes wide as she took in the size of him.

  “Damn,” she said softly.

  It made him laugh.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked, sliding his thumb along her bottom lip. “Looks to me like you can barely get your hands around it.”

  She flashed him a naughty grin. “Good thing I don’t need my hands.”

  And then she was on him, the perfect pink “o” of her lips sliding down around the head, taking him in inch by agonizing inch. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, but it was an intense, delicious pain that set his balls on fire.

  Ronan shoved both hands into her hair, burying his fingers in it. That shit was fucking everywhere now, huge curls that sprung up in every direction and cascaded down her back, and he loved the feel of them in his hands as she gave up control.

  And he took it, hard and fast. Hands still tangled in her hair, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, fucking her mouth fast, then slow, pulling almost all the way out, then driving in so deep, he hit the back of her throat.

  She feels so fucking good.

  He slid his hand down her back, admiring the view of her bare ass as she licked and sucked, bringing him right to the edge.

  He felt the tightness in his balls and knew it was only seconds before he unloaded.

  “Georgie…”

  She slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him with a devilish glint as she sucked him harder, and that was it; he was fucking gone. He fisted her hair and held her close as he came in a hot rush, exploding in her mouth, watching her throat pulse as she swallowed his release.

  So perfect and sweet. So beautiful.

  Her face was like a God damn angel, looking up at him with those baby blues as he finally slid out of her mouth, totally spent.

  Georgie rested her cheek against his thigh, an exhausted smile stretching peacefully across her face. Ronan stroked her hair and let his mind wander as she curled up beside him like a cat, happy and content. In that moment she didn’t seem to care—or even remember—that he’d sawed off her underwear, leaving her bare-ass naked on the floor, her shirt the only scrap of clothing still intact.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Ronan didn’t pretend to have access to her innermost secrets, but he knew this: as much as she’d loved a good hard spanking, as much as she’d sucked his dick like a dirty little vixen, Georgie Taylor was so good, so whole, so full of life. And Ronan was nothing but a shell, his heart as black as coal. Yeah, he was quick with a smart-ass remark and some dirty pillow talk, but that was all on the outside.

  Inside? That shit was a damn war zone, a wasteland he’d never let anyone see, let alone Georgie. It was too raw, to real, and it would break something inside of her that he wanted to keep whole, even if he couldn’t keep it for himself.

  Girls like Georgie—they believed in the fairy tale. They wanted a good man to sweep them off their feet, to give them a whirlwind romance, to treat them like queens. Why shouldn’t they want it? No one had ever told them it wasn’t possible.

  For Georgie, everything was possible. She probably jumped out of bed every day before the alarm rang, her face lit up with that megawatt grin, ready to conquer the world.

  Ronan got out of bed every day wondering if today would be the day he’d finally blow his fucking brains out.

  How could he expose her to that shit, even for one night?

  Because you’re a selfish prick.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly shy. Her cheeks flamed the exact color of the sky at sunset in Bali. “Was that… was it okay?”

  Ronan forced a smile, rubbing the crease between her eyebrows with the heel of his hand. He didn’t want her to feel bad, but the guilt was already seeping in, burning up his insides like battery acid. He couldn’t handle this. The talking. The cuddling. The gazing longingly into each other’s eyes and sharing secrets. Some things were better left unsaid, undone.

  Fuck it.

  Ronan needed to get out of there and clear his head before he started believing in bullshit fairy tales, too.

  “I gotta go,” he said abruptly, standing up and zipping his pants.

  Georgie looked like she’d been slapped, and not in the sexy way.r />
  Nice move, ace.

  “But… it’s your house,” she said. “Where are you going?”

  “Dunno,” he said. “But since it’s my house, I figure I can come and go without an interrogation.”

  He grabbed his coat off the hook by the door and shoved his feet into his boots. At the sound of the door opening, Bella bolted down the stairs and charged right at him.

  “Ronan?”

  The confusion in Georgie’s voice made him feel like an even bigger douche bag than he was. She was still sitting half-naked on the kitchen floor, lips swollen and puffy, her hair a tangled mess. Behind her, the kitchen faucet dripped onto the pile of abandoned dishes.

  Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.

  He couldn’t look into her eyes—it would wreck him. Maybe that’s what he deserved, but fuck it, he was taking the easy way out tonight.

  For both their sakes.

  “Make yourself at home, Cupcake.” Ronan opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, Bella bounding out into the snow ahead of him. “Don’t wait up.”

  CHAPTER 10

  M erry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, too, asshole.

  That was the last straw. Treacherous roads or not, Georgie would not waste another minute of her Christmas vacation with a man who would rather be alone for the holidays than show one tiny shred of vulnerability. The guy had issues—obviously—but screw that. Who didn’t? Issues or not, if a blow job at the dinner table wasn’t enough to give Ronan Steel a little Christmas cheer, Georgie was all out of ideas.

  She blinked away tears that had no business falling, and picked herself up off the floor, straightening her shirt. There was nothing to be upset about—it’s not like Ronan had left her high and dry, aching for release.

  He might’ve been a dick, but good lord he was a full-service dick.

  Thinking about Ronan’s services—and his dick—sent traitorous waves of pleasure coursing through her body again. Georgie had never felt anything so intense, so hot. Her legs were still wobbly, her insides pulsing with aftershocks. How was that even possible?

  You know how, girl.

  She ran her hands over her ass, still superheated from his touch. She couldn’t believe she’d let Ronan do that to her, but there was no denying the truth: Georgie had loved every second of those savage spankings; she’d probably be feeling the sting for days.

  Too bad. Thoughts of Ronan end now.

  It didn’t matter how good he’d made her feel. It was temporary, totally casual, and totally over. He’d made that absolutely clear. And just in time, too. Georgie never should’ve let things get so out of control.

  Even if he could take her from zero to screaming double orgasm in thirty seconds flat…

  Enough.

  She got to work gathering up her things. Twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of Ronan, but Georgie was packed and ready to go, dressed in warm layers, her hair and makeup nice and presentable again. She was no longer feeling the elf costume, but that didn’t mean she had to show up at the Taylor family Christmas looking like she’d spent the night rolling around on the kitchen table. She was going to have a hard enough time explaining to her family of perennial worrywarts why she’d decided to rent a car and drive up here on her own during a snowstorm without telling anyone her plans—an idea that seemed a lot better in retrospect.

  No matter. She was here now, and that’s what counted. Ronan might not think so, but her family sure would.

  The salt trucks had to have been through by now. Her car might be—what had Ronan said? FUBAR?—but she could still use the onboard nav to call a tow truck, then wait in the car until the driver arrived.

  She should’ve done that right from the start instead of taking orders from a jerk.

  “You ain’t going anywhere tonight. Except inside. With me.”

  The deep, gravelly voice echoed in her memory, but Georgie ignored it. Her new plan was solid; with any luck, she’d be there in time to see the kids before bedtime, hand out a few presents, and gobble up a piece of Aunt Marcy’s homemade chocolate pecan pie, all without so much as a backward glance at this cabin or the man who owned it.

  Too bad your pink bunny vibrator will never live up to that man’s tongue…

  “Whatever,” Georgie said to absolutely no one. “At least Mr. Bunny doesn’t throw a temper tantrum after spending the night with me.”

  Ignoring the heat that swirled in her belly, Georgie layered on her coat and winter gear, stacked her bags into a manageable arrangement, and dragged them outside, closing the door on Ronan Steel and that very brief, better-left-forgotten chapter of her life.

  CHAPTER 11

  Searching for satellite. Searching for satellite. Searching for satellite…

  After ten minutes, the nav system was no closer to finding the satellite than Georgie was to erasing Ronan from her mind. She clicked off the device and fished through the glove box for the map from the rental company, hoping she could figure out which direction town was.

  Ronan lived on the outskirts, but the town proper catered to tourists, and it had a bus line as well as private shuttles for the skiers and snowboarders that flooded the area every winter. Assuming Georgie could find her way there, maybe she could catch a shuttle to her parents’ place, come back to pick up her car with her dad tomorrow. And if the shuttles weren’t running, at the very least she’d probably be able to find a restaurant or coffee shop to wait out the storm, some quaint little mountain view café filled with laughter and clinking glasses and hot cocoa and Christmas music—everything Georgie loved about the holidays, but had so often missed out on.

  Not this year, though. This year was supposed to be different. She was strong. She was healthy. She’d been given a second chance.

  Georgie rubbed her fist against her chest, her knuckles tracing the now-familiar grooves and ridges of the scar that ran down the front of her like a zipper. It didn’t hurt—not anymore. It was a comfort now, a reminder that life was short, that it was meant to be lived with passion and intensity and yes, even a little recklessness. That was the promise she’d made last December, and despite the risks, despite her parents’ constant fretting, despite her own deep-seated fears that her doctors’ predictions were eventually going to come true, Georgie intended to keep that promise, for as long as she could.

  A few hours with a hot-tempered, seriously messed-up, multiple-orgasm-inducing recluse wasn’t going to change that.

  Georgie checked the laces on her boots, re-knotted her scarf, and stuffed her hands back into her thick wool mittens. If her map-reading skills were reliable, the town center was only about three miles down the mountain—practically a straight shot.

  There was a time when three miles would’ve felt like an impossible marathon, but not anymore. Now, it was practically a cakewalk.

  Passion. Intensity. Recklessness.

  “Let’s do this thing, bitches.”

  Leaving most of the luggage in the car, Georgie slung the shoulder bag across her chest and clomped down Ronan’s unplowed driveway to the road. The snow was still falling in big, fat gobs, but the wind had eased up, lessening the brutal sting of the cold, and Georgie was feeling pretty good about her decision to take matters into her own hands.

  The sky was dark, but the snow reflected a soft white glow all around her, lighting her path along the road. It was the kind of deadly quiet that didn’t exist in New York, a deep and dark silence that made her feel like the very last person on earth.

  It was terrifying and comforting all at once.

  After she’d walked a few dozen yards down the road, Ronan’s cabin disappeared entirely from view. But that treacherous little body of hers refused to let him go. She was still primed and ready, the fresh panties she’d put on already damp with arousal, her core aching for Ronan’s rough, expertly-delivered thrusts.

  The chemistry between them had been explosive; from the moment he’d opened the door, she could feel the electricity crackling between them like a live wire. An
d once they’d actually touched? Kissed? Georgie was surprised they hadn’t burned down the house.

  How had things gone from so scorching hot to completely frigid?

  Had she been too forward? Georgie could’ve sworn he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him… had she misread his signals? Thrown herself at him too easily? Had she somehow forgotten how to give a decent blow job?

  Was that even possible?

  As Georgie’s thoughts sped up and collided in her head, she continued her march down the mountain, more determined than ever to put some distance between her body and Ronan’s filthy mouth.

  But after a while, the snow-capped evergreens were all starting to look the same, and without streetlights or passing cars, Georgie couldn’t be certain she was still heading in the right direction. When she stopped to catch her breath and get her bearings, her stomach bottomed out—she had no idea where she was, or whether she’d inadvertently turned off the main road.

  Winter’s darkness fell hard and fast in the Rockies, and a few dozen yards in the wrong direction could mean a slide down an impossibly steep cliff. A broken neck. Frostbite. Hypothermia. People died out here all the time, just because they’d gotten distracted for a single minute and lost track of their surroundings.

  Georgie didn’t even know how long she’d been walking.

  All she knew was that it was as dark as the end of days, the wind was picking up again, her feet were soaked through and going numb, and she was—despite her map-reading skills and epic determination to blaze her own trail—utterly, impossibly lost.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, she freaking missed him. More than anything.

  Georgie Taylor, sometimes you are just too stupid to live.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Get in there, Bella. Go give her a big wet kiss.”

  Ronan smacked the dog’s rump and followed her inside, kicking off his wet boots. He and Bella had been out behind the garage, romping in the snow for the past forty-five minutes. It was cold as balls, but hey, nothing like a little crisp, clean mountain air to clear out his fucked-up head.