Page 48 of When the Snowman Whispered
He laughed. “You’re such a bad religion.”
Thick and cool, he moved inside of me, pushing and forming my body into him.
I swear I saw snow fall around us with each push.
I swear I saw the night sky appear right above us with each pull.
He rocked into me, slowly, his gaze penetrating me more than his cock. “Oh, my little ice queen.”
I shuddered.
In and out, he slipped so deliciously into me. “I now know God more than I ever did before.”
It was like winter moved inside of me.
This sensual idea of winter. Even the scent of our sex transcended to something more. We smelled like pine trees.
And, our naked bodies committed to a sensual dance within ice. Remy’s moans were the sound of logs crackling in a fireplace.
And I melted like snow touched by fire. “Oh, Remy.”
He gripped my hips. His wings rose above him. I was so caught up in my mounting orgasm I couldn’t even ask what he was doing. He flapped those lovely, ice wings. Coming, I rose in the air. Suspended and exploding on the inside and out. I was bits and pieces coming apart, one-by-one. I was unimagined ecstasy in its purest form. Not cut or watered down. I was everything and nothing at all.
We hovered over the bed. Moving and gyrating. Loving every second.
We came together.
Or at least I think we did.
How could I have the strength to focus on my own body crashing into pleasure, over and over. It was an almost unending orgasm that encased my very soul.
And all I did was just let go.
Let it take me.
Let Remy take me.
Let this whole night.
This magic take me.
I just let go.
Forgot about the world.
The violence.
The shootings.
My divorce.
My battered life.
This shattered country.
I closed my soul to all the possible future problems that would come in the new year.
And just let go.
