K. Tnx. was the only response.
She tipped her head up and her neck muscles groaned with the stretch. How long had she been bent over her phone, a texting zombie like half the population of Cambridge and Somerville? Slapping one hand on the printer stand she was sure would work, she realized it would be easier to order it on her phone and have it delivered to the office than to buy it here and haul it there on her own. The order took all of five clicks.
Done.
Ah, technology. She heard they even had vibrator apps on smartphones these days. Alex had come home from work one day telling her all about them, a weird smirk on his face.
Alex. Back to thinking about Alex and sex.
She needed to go do something about that.
Right now.
* * *
Outdoor sex was their thing, but this was going way too far. “I am not fucking on a public ice-skating rink, Alex!” Josie said as his hands pawed at her jeans, trying to work the button with fingers so cold she feared having one slip inside her, like a vagina popsicle.
“Why not?” Hot breath tickled her ear. What tiny sliver of ear skin she allowed to touch the air. Boston was experiencing one of the coldest weeks on record and it was twilight, the air temperature dropping more with each breath.
She had to hand it to him—the setting was amazing. An open-air pond that had frozen just right, leaving skaters to play on the ice for free, bare trees surrounding the little alcove he’d pulled her into. Streetlights dotted the landscape on the road above them, but otherwise the only light came from the full moon.
Full moon. It always brought Alex outside, his cock hard as a rock, his mind in single pursuit of her body and her heart, unencumbered and outside, air a strong aphrodisiac, the pull of which she found hard to fight.
Like gravity.
Like sexual tension and need, all rising up inside her but abruptly cut off by his icicle fingers.
Bet his tongue is nice and warm, though, her little devil inside said. “Devil” was a euphemism for clit. Her clit said it, and she was unabashedly out for some action right now. Unable to get home after her earlier shopping trip, Josie had walked around town with fire between her legs.
And Alex had just the right hose to put it out.
He took her glove off and shoved her hand down the front of his jeans. Ah. Commando. How could guys go around without underwear when it was six degrees outside? Seriously? Didn’t their mushroom caps turn into little push-up bars? How could you leave so much to the cold elements?
Her hand warmed up instantly as she brushed against his soft, thick goodness. “Who needs hand warmers?” she murmured, and then slipped on the ice, her hand caught in his pants and dragging him down with a lurch and a strangle cry.
He sounded mutilated. Her fingers were tangled in the thatch of his hair and one testicle was clenched in her fist that she’d involuntarily made as she struggled to remain upright.
“Did I break something?” she said, worried now—unable to stop giggling at the absurdity of what they were doing, though.
“If you did,” he said with a choking sound, “I know a way you can fix it. And,” he muttered, looking at his package, unbuttoning his jeans, “after what you just plucked out, I won’t need to be waxed for months.”
Her giggles increased and she couldn’t stop, overcome with wet eyes and whooping gasps as Alex tried in vain to get her to re-engage in some semblance of sex.
“How about on the shore?” he finally asked, struggling to stand. In the moonlight he was quite a sight, knit cap pulled over his unruly brown hair, crystal-clear brown eyes full of lust.
And his pants were hanging open under his ski jacket, like some kind of flasher.
“Snow is way better than ice. I think I wrenched my shoulder when I fell,” Josie admitted.
Alex reached up under her coat and shirt to cup a breast.
“That’s not my shoulder.”
“Really? I’m so sorry. I’m really bad at anatomy.” He teased her nipple until she gasped and began to tremble with need.
“You’re a doctor and you don’t know the difference between a shoulder and a breast?”
He pulled her hand over his now enormous erection. “Can you give me a neck rub? My neck really needs you.”
“If that’s your neck, then what have I been kissing all this time?”
A rush of power and he was on her, Josie’s back crunching against fresh snow, the cold somehow shifting to warmth as his body was over hers, bare abs rubbing against her own as her shirt pulled up, his hands fevered against her skin, unclasping her jeans and pulling them down.
Cold. Frozen buttocks. “ALEX!” Josie squealed. “The snow’s all over my ass.”
“Let it go,” he whispered.
“I’m not some Disney princess,” she hissed, but his hands warmed her. Then he sat up, pulled off his coat, and draped it on the snow like a blanket.
“Get your frigid ass on there. Now,” he commanded.
“Frigid! You want to see frigid? I’ll show you—”
He leapt on her, pinning her arms to the ground, her ass stripped bare of panties, jeans around her ankles as he took a deep breath and inhaled against the groove between her breasts. Josie’s shirt was inelegantly shoved up, along with her now-unzippered coat. She didn’t wear a bra today simply because, and now she was glad as his mouth found one nipple and he plucked it with his tongue, making her wet and hungry to have him in her.
The moon agreed, watching over them as always, a celestial voyeur. And they were giving it an eyeful.
Alex pulled up, balancing himself on one arm, his hand deep in the snow, wrestling with his back pocket, which now rested somewhere around his knees. The clumsy way they were made her smile, a deep sense of goodness and comfort infusing her, making the night chill an afterthought. Their breath mingled visually, puffs of white essence twining together like a visual manifestation of their relationship, and even as they fumbled like teenagers, she found herself.
She found herself.
“I love you so much, you dork,” she said as he fell on his side, his ribs hitting the cold snow, his yelp of surprise sending her into a fit of giggles. At this rate she’d be laughing so hard he wouldn’t be able to enter her. She’d shoot him back out like a blow dart.
“I love you, too.” But he was distracted, the reply robotic.
“You’re such a romantic. I’ll bet you say that to all the girls whose asses you dip in snow.”
“I’m trying to find a condom,” he huffed, tossing a handful of snow at her bare belly. Josie’s turn to yelp. She clapped a hand over her own mouth, then a single finger.