Nieve y Ceniza

The blizzard howled outside the ski chalet like it wanted to rip the roof off, but inside it smelled of the crackling fireplace, pine needles, and something else—warm, female, barely there. Alina sat on the low couch upholstered in rough wool, watching Vlad toss another log onto the fire. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt, and when he leaned over, the fabric slid across his back, baring his skin. Her husband, Sergei, had gone down to the cellar for wine, and the house had suddenly gone too quiet.

"Cold?" Vlad turned, his gaze sliding over her shoulders, her collarbones, her lips. He didn't smile. He just looked, and that look made Alina's mouth go dry.

"A little," she lied, because everything inside her was on fire.

He stepped closer. Without asking, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. His breath—hot, uneven—touched her wrist, and she felt her pulse hammering. She'd been dreaming of this for three years. Ever since the first time he came to their dacha and helped her haul bags out of the trunk. She'd been ashamed, she'd pushed the thoughts away, but now, in this snowed-in house, the shame had evaporated.

"Alina," his voice was low, rough. "If I walk away now, we'll both regret it. But if I stay..."

"Stay," she breathed.

He covered her mouth with his—greedy, deep, without a shred of hesitation. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling his tongue slide along her lower lip, feeling his hands already working the buttons of her wool dress. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, and the air—cool, but instantly heated by his palms—touched her skin.

"Sergei might come back," she whispered, but she pressed her hips against his crotch, feeling his cock harden under his jeans.

"Let him," Vlad smirked, but his eyes stayed serious. "I've been watching you walk around that kitchen in your short shorts for too long. I was going out of my mind."

She moaned when he squeezed her breast through the lace of her bra, his thumb running over her swollen nipple. Alina threw her head back, and he immediately pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking the skin, leaving a wet trail. She could feel herself getting wet between her legs, her panties sticking to her.

"Come on," she breathed, unbuckling his belt. "I want you inside me. Right now."

Vlad picked her up and laid her down on the rug in front of the fireplace. The rough fibers scraped her shoulder blades, but she didn't care. She watched him pull off his jeans and boxers together, and her breath caught. His cock—hard, with a wet head—twitched in his hand.

"Look at me," he said, dropping to his knees between her spread thighs.

He parted her folds with his fingers, and she gasped at the touch. Her lace panties were pushed aside, and he slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragged the head of his cock over her clit, gathering her wetness.

"Please," Alina whispered. "Don't tease."

"And if I want to tease you?" He leaned down, licked her nipple through the wet lace, and she arched her back.

He entered her in one thrust—deep, all the way to the hilt. Alina cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders. She was wet, hot, and he froze with a groan, letting her adjust.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're so tight."

"Move," she demanded, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He started slow, rocking, pulling out almost all the way and then sinking back in, until she was moaning out loud. The fire crackled, throwing dancing shadows across their bodies. Vlad leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss as he picked up the pace. Each thrust was deeper, more insistent, and Alina felt a wave building inside her.

"More," she breathed. "Don't stop."

He flipped her onto her stomach, lifting her hips. She got on her knees, bracing her hands on the rug, and he entered her from behind—hard, fast, making her cry out. His hand slid around to her clit, and he started circling it as he fucked into her.

"You're going to come with me," he whispered in her ear, leaning over her. His voice was low, rough. "I want to feel you clench around my cock."

Alina bit her lip, trying not to scream too loud. But when his fingers pressed down on her clit and his cock buried itself to the hilt, she screamed—muffled, into the rug, arching her back. The wave crashed over her, squeezing everything inside, and she felt Vlad groan and thrust one last time, then freeze, pumping his hot cum into her.

He slowly sank down beside her, pulling her close. Alina lay with her face pressed to his chest, feeling his heart pound. Outside, the blizzard still howled, but inside the chalet, it was hot.

"You don't even know how long I've wanted this," he said, stroking her hair.

"I do," she smirked, lifting her head. "Me too."

She kissed the corner of his mouth and suddenly laughed—light, free. Vlad smiled too, and somewhere deep in the house, the cellar door banged shut.

"Sergei's coming," she whispered, but she made no move to get up.

"Let him come," Vlad repeated. "He'll need that wine."