Snow Dream

Snowbound: Snow Dream Michele Bardsley All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 Michele Bardsley

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-931-6

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Changeling Press LLC

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Editor: Sheri Ross Fogarty

Cover Artist: Reneé George

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Snowbound: Snow Dream Michele Bardsley When Lilly Tremont wrecks her car in a snowstorm, her gorgeous rescuers show her unexpected ways to stay warm.

Snowbound: Snow Dream Lilly Tremont was trapped in the freaking, horrible, unrelenting snow. “I hate Oklahoma in the winter,” she muttered. Actually, she hated Oklahoma year-round. The only reason she was on this lonely, one-lane road was because her grandmother had left her the farm. Well, what was left of it -- old house, falling-apart barn, broken fences, and empty corrals. Nothing had grown or lived on that piece of land in at least a decade. Her grandmother had gone to Florida and lived out her golden years on the beach. Lilly had gone to the West Coast and set up her gallery in San Francisco. Her eclectic pottery and statuary had been an instant hit, which was good because living in San Fran was outrageously expensive. She had hoped to never see Oklahoma again. Then Gran had died and left her the stupid farm, and so, here she was, in a blizzard, driving an unfamiliar rental car. Well, plowing it into a ditch had stopped her from the driving part. Her cell phone was useless. Either service didn’t reach this part of Oklahoma or the weather was affecting the signal. She wished she’d gotten that OnStar option offered with the upgrade. This is what you get for being cheap, Lilly. She’d turned off the car because she couldn’t remember if leaving it on was good or bad. If she left it on, wouldn’t she die from carbon monoxide poisoning or something? Same difference, really, if she was going to freeze to death. At least if she went with death by carbon monoxide, she’d be warm. Lilly looked out the window and all she saw was snow. Wind-whipped flakes spattered the windshield. She couldn’t see the house from here. It could be a few feet or a few miles away. She’d made sure the electricity, water, and gas had been turned on.

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After all, it was going to take a couple of weeks to go through everything and get it ready for the auction. The farm couldn’t be that much further. She wore a sweater, jeans, ankle boots, parka with hood secured, and gloves. She snagged her duffel bag from the backseat. Digging through it, she found a scarf and tucked that around her face. Moments passed as she worked up the nerve to open the car door. The second she did, snow pelted her. The air nearly froze her lungs. She slid out, sinking up to her calves in the drift. Terrific. Her jeans were wet and her boots ruined. “This sucks!” The wind stole the complaint and tossed it away. Never mind. She’d decided on a course of action, and that was that. She slammed the door shut, heaved her purse over her shoulder, and climbed out of the ditch. Crap. Which part was the road and which part was everything else? Taking her best guess, she marched forward through the kamikaze snow. Her teeth started to chatter. It didn’t take long for her to admit that the farm was not as close as she’d hoped. So, she pivoted around and headed toward the car. After a few minutes, she realized that the blue vehicle should’ve been visible by now, even with only its ass sticking out of the ditch. Lilly’s heart kicked up a notch. Her face felt raw, even the part she managed to keep covered. She was shivering and wet and angry. Damn! Why had she left the car? She realized now how stupid she’d been to abandon its security. The snowstorm was worsening, too. Lilly considered her options: A. Wander aimlessly until death occurred. B. Build an igloo. C. Try to find the farm. Again. Since dying had no appeal and she had no igloo-building skills, she’d have to head for the farm. The blizzard might be able to hide a sedan, but it couldn’t bury a whole house. She reversed direction and picked up the pace.

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The storm mercilessly smacked her around. Her legs went numb. Her eyebrows iced over. Her body stiffened. She felt like a Popsicle trying to escape the freezer. What she wouldn’t give for a quilt, a cup of hot chocolate, and a roaring fire. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ice-encrusted ground. She was so cold. So tired. What would it hurt to rest for just a minute? Lilly closed her eyes.

*** “She’s very pretty,” said the man’s voice, which was as smooth as dark chocolate. “Yes,” agreed another man. His voice was raspy, in an oh-so-sexy way. “It’s a good thing we rescued her.” Lilly pried open her eyes. She realized two things that made her heart pound: She was naked. And her wrists and ankles were tied to a hard, flat object. “Am I dreaming?” she croaked. “Do you want to be?” asked the first man who’d spoken. He leaned down and looked at her. His eyes were light blue, the same color as his skin. His hair was white and spiky. He was also naked. She only noticed because his rather large cock was poking her arm. “I’m Flake,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” “Uh… yeah. Same here.” She tried for a smile and failed. “What’s going on?” She didn’t sound freaked out. Good. As long she kept her cool (hah!), she’d be all right. A second face peered down at her. His eyes looked like diamonds, and his skin was as white as… well, snow. His hair was blue and spiky. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Frost.” “Wait a minute. Frost and Flake?” Hysteria crept into her laughter. “You’re kidding, right?” She looked from one to the other. “Oh, I get it. You’re performance artists.” “No,” said Frost. “We’re snow men.” “We make the snow,” clarified Flake. “We found you and decided to keep you.”

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“Rescue,” corrected Frost.

Flake nodded. “Right. Rescue you.”

“Do you have a different definition for rescue on your planet?” she asked

politely. “Because on Earth, you don’t strip off someone’s clothes and tie them down.” “Why not?” asked Flake. “We saved you. And we want to play. Fair is fair.” “What he means,” said Frost, glaring at his friend, “is that you are quite lovely. And we haven’t enjoyed a female human in a long time.” “So, I’m dreaming.” Otherwise, she’d have to accept that she was, indeed, the prisoner of two non-human men who’d rescued her from death so that they could play with her. While she grappled with this idea, she looked around. The room looked like it was made of ice, but it wasn’t cold in here. The only object in the room, other than the three of them, was the slab to which she was tied, which also looked carved from ice. The ropes looked crystalline. She tugged on them experimentally. They didn’t chafe her skin, but they also didn’t give her much leeway. What if she wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating?

Maybe she was dead.

Her heart tripped over in her chest as she gave the room another look. It didn’t

match any description she’d ever heard of the Great Beyond. There was too much ice for this to be hell, unless the place really had finally frozen over. Or it could be limbo. Nah. The pope said limbo didn’t exist anymore. “Is this… heaven?” she asked.

“It could be,” said Frost with a wicked grin, “if we touch you.”

“And if you touch us,” added Flake with a matching grin.

Lilly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. Well, good sex. Her last

lover thought foreplay was a golf term. “A demonstration is in order,” said Frost. “Don’t you think, Flake?”

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“Definitely!” Flake leaned forward and blew on her left nipple. A swirl of cold air tightened the peak. Frost leaned over her right nipple and executed the same trick. Then they did it together. Whoa. No, wrong. Very wrong. “She doesn’t look convinced,” said Flake, studying her expression. Lilly met his gaze and tried to look as if she hadn’t been affected by their little show. Well, they were cute -- even if they were weirdoes who painted their naked selves and kidnapped snowbound women. “Let’s try again,” said Frost. He put his extraordinarily cold forefingers to the tips of her taut nipples. Ice formed around her peaks. What the -Frost and Flake leaned forward and worked their tongues around the ice, assaulting her with cold and with heat until finally there was nothing left but their rough, blue tongues lapping around her crinkled flesh. She quelled the urge to squirm. And she swallowed the inadvertent moan. However, she couldn’t stop her pussy from contracting or prevent its cream from moistening her inner thighs. “Look,” crowed Frost. He swiped her vulva and showed Flake the glistening evidence. “She enjoys our touches.” Flake looked deeply into her eyes. “Do you want us?” he asked excitedly. “Please?” Oh, God. She was beginning to doubt her sanity. She liked the action here. She liked them. Dream or delusion or death… um, did it matter? “All right,” she said. “I’m yours.” At least until I wake up, the psychotropic drugs kick in, or St. Peter arrives. Flake rewarded her capitulation by pressing his lips to hers. He was a playful kisser, skimming her mouth, darting his tongue inside for the barest of meetings. Then he pulled away, just a little, his breath ghosting over her tingling lips. He taunted her for a few seconds with his absence then he returned for another lick, another taste, another dip.

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Frost’s hands were busy, too. He played chill-the-nipple again. As Flake kissed her senseless, Frost alternately froze her aching peaks and sucked the ice off until her nipples throbbed in raw delight. “It’s my turn to kiss her,” said Frost. Flake conceded to his friend’s demand. He moved away, allowing Frost to lean down and capture her mouth. He angled his lips over hers and thrust his tongue inside. He didn’t mess around. He deepened the kiss, and his tongue tangled expertly with hers. Oh. Oh. Oh. She went liquid. Flake’s hands lightly coasted over her flesh. He grazed her stomach with his fingertips and then trailed over her hips, across her thighs, her calves. Her skin prickled wherever he caressed. Her heart pounded fiercely. Her pussy wept with need. Her body tingled and ached and… and wanted. Flake withdrew his luscious touch and she groaned, disappointed. Frost released her mouth. “Untie me,” she pleaded, her voice quaking. “You said I could touch you.” Frost and Flake exchanged a look then returned their gazes to her. “Not yet,” they said together. Their smiles promised wicked, wicked wonders. Lust burned through her. They stood on either side of her. Their long fingers emitted frost. They decorated her with this chilly paint, and every shape drawn on her quivering flesh drove her wild. Frost and Flake tormented her until she panted and writhed and moaned. And still they would not release her bonds. As she lay on the snow men’s altar, their willing sacrifice, she watched Frost lift his hands. White swirled between his palms. He shaped his creation until satisfied with its form, then showed it to her. An ice dildo. “She’s so hot right now,” said Flake, chuckling, “she might melt it.”

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“Let’s find out.” Frost pressed the round tip against her clit. She gasped. Her pussy quivered as he dragged the gelid toy down her soaked slit. Lilly sucked in a shaky breath. The arctic sensations torturing her up till now were nothing compared to the glacial feel of the dildo pressing against her entrance. Slowly, Frost pushed the ice inside her, penetrating deeply. “Oh, wow,” she managed. She looked into Frost’s diamond eyes. “What else can you do?” His answer was to thrust the dildo in and out of her aching cunt. She couldn’t stop the bucking of her own hips. Oh, God. How could she have ever not loved snow and all its counterparts? Water mixed with her own juices and dripped onto the table. The dildo was melting fast and she was not done with it. She looked up at Flake, who’d enjoyed the show so much that he was stroking his own cock in the same rhythm. “I want to taste you,” she said. She turned her head, angling for the cock just inches away. Flake obliged her. He placed the tip of his cock against her lips. She licked his mushroomed head, tasting the blue pre-come pearled there. Mmm. It was thick and sweet and cold. Like a snow cone. She sucked as much of his length into her mouth as she could, which wasn’t nearly enough. A sound warbled from his throat -- the oddest moan she’d ever heard. “Release me,” she demanded hoarsely. “Then fuck me.” “I like that idea,” said Flake. “As do I,” agreed Frost. He tossed what was left of the ice dildo to the floor. While he loosed the bonds around her ankles, Flake took off the cuffs on her wrists. The moment she was free, she grabbed Flake -- he was closest -- and laid one on him. She rubbed her nipples against his pectorals and palmed his cock. His skin was slick-smooth, almost like glass, and she wanted him inside her. Flake pulled her off the slab, holding her close as they continued their frantic kissing and rubbing. Ooooooh, baby.

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Frost wanted in on the action, too. He rubbed her ass, scraping his nails down her flesh. She quivered at the slight violence. Then he yanked her from Flake and imprisoned her mouth with his. She threw herself into his arms and took his kisses. She touched him everywhere, that satin-glass skin gliding so sensually under her eager hands. Then she reached his cock, which was as thick and big as Flake’s. Flake pressed against her back, his big cock sliding between her buttocks. Frost’s manhood assailed her slick pussy, rubbing against her sensitive clit. Her body raged with need. She felt tormented beyond capacity. She wanted them. Now. “Please,” she begged. “Fuck me.” Frost lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He guided his cock inside her. He was so big that he stretched her almost more than she could bear. The tip of his cock brushed against the entrance to her womb. Lilly shuddered against all the sensations rioting through her. And the man hadn’t even moved yet. No, his hands were on her buttocks, holding them open for Flake. She felt the slickness of gel -- cold, of course -- fill her channel. Then Flake’s finger wiggled inside, widening her hole and prepping her for his cock. She wasn’t sure she could take both of them. Her heart pounded, her body trembled, her pussy clenched. It wouldn’t take much to tip her over the edge, and damn it, she wanted to be fucked thoroughly. Flake pushed the tip of his cock inside her ass. She held on to Frost, lust overriding her discomfort. Flake worked himself into her quivering ass to the hilt. She hung there, deliciously impaled by two men, and reveled in the sensations already rocking her core. Then Frost thrust into her pussy. And Flake plunged into her ass. They gained a rhythm that left her breathless. She could hardly hold on while they stroked her to pleasure. Sweat dripped down her skin, even while theirs remained

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free from moisture. But they were panting, grunting, ensnared by what they were all seeking. “Oh, God!” Lilly imploded. Lost her breath. Her vision. Her goddamned sense. Pleasure shredded her, bright and hot and all-consuming. And while she burned, her lovers found their own bliss. Their semen filled her ass, her pussy. It was strangely cold and viscous, but she clenched hard on their cocks, milking them until they trembled no more. The snow men slumped against her, a triad of pleasure met.

*** Rap. Rap. Rap. Lilly opened her eyes. She was sitting in her car, fully dressed. She was warm, too, even though the car wasn’t on. What had happened to her? Thoughts of Frost and Flake drifted through her mind. They really had been a dream. Or a snow-induced delusion. Her disappointment was keen. “Ma’am?” She blinked and turned her head. A man stood at her window, peering inside. He wore a thick denim coat and a red cap. She could tell from the tufts of hair sticking out from the cap that he was a blond. And his eyes were light blue. A familiar blue. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Do you need help?”

She nodded again.

“Maybe if you got out of the car, I could hook it to my truck and get it out of the

ditch.” Oh. Right. He stepped back and she opened the door, scooting out. She sank into the drift up to her knees. The man chuckled and scooped her into his arms, navigating the steep bank easily. He set her on the road, but seemed reluctant to let her go. “I’m Frank Frost,” he said.

“Flake?” she asked, her heart pounding furiously. “Frost?”

His blond brows rose. His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Frank Frost.”

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Feeling like an idiot, she held out her gloved hand. “Lilly Tremont.”

“Figured as much.” Frank shook her hand. “Your husband worried about you?”

“Not married. You?”

“Nope.” His smile broadened. “I own the farm next to your Gran’s.” His gaze cut

to the car and back to her. “You’re lucky. That was a helluva storm last night.” “Yeah,” said Lilly. “I know.” Frank set to work on extracting her rental car, and she looked at the snow, glinting like fields of diamonds under the bright sun. Y’know, snow wasn’t so bad. Her gaze roved over the lean lines of Frank. The man sure could fill out a pair of jeans. Come to think of it, Oklahoma wasn’t so bad, either.

Michele Bardsley Nationally bestselling and award-winning author Michele Bardsley spends her days creating fictional worlds because, let’s face it, reality sucks. A prime example is that no one has yet to figure out how to make calorie-free chocolate. What’s up with THAT? She received an associate degree in liberal arts, which was no help whatsoever for becoming a novelist or a decent housekeeper. She lives in Oklahoma with her family and numerous pets. Visit her website at: www.MicheleBardsley.com or her MySpace: www.myspace.com/maggiemortis.