Fire in the Snow

Martin pulled her body close, gloved hands pressing into her sides. Without thinking, Risha reached up and grabbed his cheeks with cold fingers, crushing his face to hers. He gasped, but his lips kept working every nerve ending. Her fingernails gently scraped down his chin.

Their mouths moved in rhythm, pushing and pulling, giving and taking.

Risha whimpered into his mouth, catching his lower lip with her teeth. Something guttural rumbled in his throat. The cold air cut against her cheeks.

Risha's desire overwhelmed her. She was ravenous, forceful. Her mouth moved and sucked urgently.

Martin inhaled sharply, his eyes wide. "Risha," he murmured. He pulled away slightly. His eyes flickered down to her chest and back up to her face.

The night air swept freely over her bare breasts.

Blood rushed into her face. Quickly sliding her hands off Martin's face, Risha clutched her jacket closed again.

"I... I was meditating..." she muttered, mortified, "it's--sometimes the cold helps... and--and on your skin it--I mean, you must think..." she trailed off, inwardly trying to dig a hole in which she could hide herself and die of shame.

"That's pretty badass," Martin looked down at her, a smile playing with his lips.

"Thank you," Risha murmured, desperately trying to think of some way to salvage the situation. "Sometimes... I mean, it's a technique, for meditation, not like I want to--wait, what are you doing?"

Martin was calmly undoing the buttons of his trench coat with one hand, and using his teeth to pull a leather glove off the other.

"You told me to trust you. If you say it helps, I'm willing to give it a try." Martin finished with his trench coat, and started working on the buttons of his high-quality dress shirt.

"You don't have to do that," Risha said distantly, unable to take her eyes off the light patch of skin that appeared behind the motion of Martin's fingers.

"No ma'am," Martin said firmly, finishing the last of the buttons, "I followed your expert advice before, and now I'll do it again."

Shadows from the dim distant streetlights made patterns across the muscles of his chest and stomach. Goosebumps quickly stood up across his skin. Risha unconsciously bit the inside of her lip.

"Although," Martin shivered, "you might be a bit more badass than me."

"Hmm, need someone to keep you warm?" Risha wished she could pull the words back into her mouth the moment she said them.

Martin hesitated a moment. Risha again tried to die of shame, thinking of some way she could back-track her brazen offer. Then he held his arms out wide.

Risha slipped into the circle of his embrace. His trench coat folded behind her. His heat radiated against her. The hard curves of his muscles caressed her body. It felt like her painfully hard nipples would cut into his skin.

They shivered against each other, bare skin on bare skin.

"You're right," Martin's voice vibrated against her. "This technique definitely helps."

As he smiled down at her, his skin sliding against her, Risha's head spun. She panted, lips half-open.

Martin's smile faded. He pressed himself against her. She grabbed him by the neck and dragged him down to kiss her. Warmth flowed along her lips. The slip of his tongue found hers. Moans dragged out of her.

She slid her breasts up and down the ridges of his chest. A sigh ripped out of Martin. She could feel his groin swelling through his pants.

The little voice in her head telling her to stop drowned in a flood of desire. Her hips ground slowly against his bulge, making involuntary grunts vibrate into her mouth. Every sound he made drove Risha even more wild. Her tongue lashed against his teeth until he met her with his own.

Her slit was slippery. The lips between her legs slide wetly against her panties with every motion of her hips. She could feel Martin's heart pounding against her bare breast.

His mouth wandered down to the curve of her neck. Cold breath sent up steam. Kissing, biting, licking. Night air mixed with body heat. She bent herself to receive him. Her hands reached out to grab the belt of his pants. One finger brushed against the bulge between his legs.

She shivered. Her whole body shook.

The blackness of her nipple slid into his mouth. His lips were cold. His teeth slowly pulled back, sending jolts of pleasure up her breasts, through her brain, and down her legs.

Risha's knees collapsed.

The nipple popped painfully out of Martin's mouth. She fell back down into the snow with a squeak.

Her hands still grasped hard onto Martin's belt. The unexpected weight sent Martin toppling forward. He barely stopped his fall before he smashed on top of her.

"Are you okay?" Martin asked, breathlessly.

"No," Risha panted. Her knee-length coat beneath her kept away the wetness of the snow. She could feel the bulge of Martin's pants pushing against her hips. She hated how he could make her totally lose control like that.

"NO," she said with surprising anger, "I'm not okay. You drive me crazy."

"You have no idea," Martin said forcefully. His eyes were animal as they danced over her body. "This is insane. We should stop."

"You're right, this makes no sense. I promise I've never done anything like this before."

"I know. I would remember," Martin quipped.

Risha rolled her eyes, then gasped as he pressed his warm body down on her, shielding her with skin and muscle from the cold.

She searched Martin's eyes. There was that inexplicable light again.

"Why did you write that poem?" she whispered. She rhythmically arched her back, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

Martin shuddered. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He ground his hips against her white jeans. Her clit swelled to meet him.

"Did you stalk me online? Hack my computer?" Her cold fingers fumbled with his belt.

"None of those things." His teeth pulled at her nipple again. Her back arched. Her hips flexed rhythmically.

"Then how did you know me so well?" she gasped. The sensation on her nipples was an onslaught. She rubbed her hand up and down the fabric of his briefs. His shaft was rock hard beneath.

"Can you handle the truth?" Martin's hands pulled insistently at the top of her jeans. Frigid air met her bare thighs.

Her whole body was shuddering with cold and desire. She dragged fingernails along his skin as they pulled down his pants. "No, I can't handle it. I can't handle any of this."

"But you still want it." It wasn't a question. He slid her panties down to join the white fabric bunched around her ankles. He ran his eyes ravenously down the curves of her body. In the darkness, every part of her was shades of deep brown and black. He drank her in.

She fumbled with his briefs. Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt his hard shaft pressing against her thighs.

"More than anything," she whispered.

She could feel his warmth at her wet opening. He stopped there, looking down at her, mist swirling out of his mouth inches away from her own. The puffs of their breath pushed against each other.

"I want you, Risha." Martin trembled violently. He held steady, waiting.

"I need you inside me," she panted. She was almost in tears with desire, and fear of her own desire. "Just don't come in me," she finished in a rush. "Not yet."

If he did, she feared he would claim her forever.

Martin hesitated. He opened his mouth as if to say something. Risha stared into his eyes, silently willing him to be quiet, willing him to fill up her body, know her body, without explanation, just as he somehow knew and filled her deepest soul.

"Risha--" Martin started hesitantly.

"Please, Martin," Risha whispered, hating herself for how much she wanted him. The ache between her legs was painful. The taste of pistachios was on her lips. "Please don't make me beg you... I can't... I'm not--"

Groaning, Martin shut his eyes and pushed himself into her.

Risha gasped as his girth stretched her opening. Euphoria rushed in. Her heart pounded. Shivers ran up and down her skin. Her legs shook. A ring of pleasure burned on her pussy as he slid further into her warmth.

Snowflakes gently fell to the ground all around.

His weight fell on top of her. She could feel the scratch of his curled chest hair moving against her. The heat of his body merged with the heat of his manhood pumping slowly deeper and deeper. Little bursts of misty breath pushed rhythmically out onto her cheek.

With a rumbling groan Martin surged in to completely fill her. She gasped, then let out a lingering sigh of satisfaction. His warmth stretched her perfectly. His mouth rose to meet hers. Their tongues slid over each other as he throbbed in her wetness.

Risha almost cried out in frustration as slid back out. The emptiness inside her without his warmth was unbearable.

The breath left her body as he slammed back in--hard. The exquisite pressure and pleasure radiated out into her belly.

He ground himself against her slick clit. Electric shocks spread out through her pussy. A low moan grew in the back of Risha's throat.

Martin bit her neck possessively as he slid back out of her pussy. He waited, holding the tip of his cock just at the top of her opening. Risha writhed her hips desperately, urging him back in. He held firm, unmoving, as he continued his rough treatment of her neck, then scraped his teeth across her ear. He hungrily consumed her mouth.

Risha slid her hands beneath the trench coat and dug her cold fingernails into his firm ass. Martin gasped. Panting, Risha angrily tried to force him in. It was useless. His body may as well have been a statue of muscle and sinew.

The ache of emptiness began to grow inside of her again. Risha bit Martin's shoulder viciously. He grunted, but held firm, gently teasing the top of her opening.

Risha moaned and panted and squirmed. "Please," she begged quietly, her voice filled with frustration, "please, Martin, I need you in me. Please, I need it all. PLEASE!"

Martin ignored her. He ran gentle kisses up her neck and down her chin. His shaft made barely-perceptible circles. The smell of kulfi and pistachios was still on his lips.

Something snapped in Risha. Anger flooded up from her belly and into her head. She placed her silver nails on Matin's temples, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Give it to me," she ordered. Martin started to smile wryly, and she dug her nails into his face. He flashed shock and indignation.

"You are going to give me everything you have, until I tell you to stop," Risha explained calmly, as her body shook with cold and desire. "And then you are going to cover me with your cum. Do you understand?"

Something in Martin cracked. He looked at her in wonder. "Where did you come from, lady?" His eyes searched her face.

"Southwest Detroit. Now, you better-- Oh! OH!" Risha collapsed backwards onto her jacket as Martin began to pound himself furiously into her pussy. He crushed his weight into her as his hips thrust relentlessly. The grinding of his pubic bone on her clit was constant.

Risha gasped in time to his body. The cold air rushed in and out of her lungs. Wetness dripped out of her pussy. A tingling grew between her legs.

Her climax slapped her in the face without warning. One second, there was pressure and pleasure, and the next Risha was clenching and shuddering, electric heat flowing through her body. Her face twisted up as she cried out softly, digging her fingernails into his back. Her womanhood spasmed uncontrollably, again and again.

It was unbelievable. She had never come with a man inside her before. She pulled Martin to her lips, her heart beating wildly as the aftershocks rolled over her.

She had no time to rest. Martin had barely slowed when he saw her clench and moan. He pounded into her with increasing urgency. Her pussy was sensitive to the point of being painful.

She almost told Martin to stop, but she held back as she hungrily watched the growing concentration on his face. He started to grunt rhythmically as he pushed his cock into her. It was so sensitive it hurt. An exquisite hurt she did not want to end.

Risha bit her lip and panted along with him. Secretly, she hoped he forgot her command and filled her up with his hot semen. She clenched her pussy rhythmically over his shaft, hoping to milk every drop out of him.

Her head still spun from the force of her unexpected orgasm. Shivers from passion and cold swept over her. Painful hardness gripped her cold nipples. The heat of pure animal desire pumped in her veins.

Martin's face scrunched up tightly. He moaned in a bass clef. Risha whimpered with disappointment as his shaft slid out of her. It shivered once, twice, and then surged.

A stream of white cum burst out. The hot liquid shot up so high it hit her chin. A little stream flowed down her neck. Martin kept pulsing, groaning harder and harder. Line after line of translucent white painted the dark chocolate of her belly and breasts.

Snowflakes drifted through the air. Risha watched them gently land on streams of cum. Slowly, their tiny intricacy melted.

Martin opened his eyes and looked at her, shuddering. Goosebumps stood out on pale skin made golden by dim streetlamps.

The streaks of hot cum on her shadowed body began to send wisps of steam into the night air.

With shaking fingers, Risha reached out and grabbed handfuls of snow. Shivering uncontrollably, she wiped Martin's seed off her body.

The stabbing cold of ice on her skin could barely pierce the firestorm of emotion raging in her heart.

CHAPTER VII: THE VISION

~~~~~~~~~~~

February 13th, 2019.

In an Uber Black

Driving through Washington, D.C.

10:39 p.m.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin watched water drops on the car window. Green, red, and yellow street lights flowed past. The leather seat crunched as he shifted.

Risha pressed her face against the other window. She sat as far away as possible. Her back and shoulders formed a wall against him.

Martin turned away. He watched a pale circle grow and fade on the window with each breath.

"Do you have any STDs?" Risha asked the window.

Martin turned sharply to look at her. Her back was still turned.

"No, I don't," Martin replied curtly. "I have the test results to prove it, if you don't believe me. Why? Do you have something?"

"No. Also, I'm on an IUD."

"Good to know."

They sat and watched the white-framed city rush by.

"You sure you don't need anything?" Martin asked.

"Not from you."

"If you want to talk--"

"No. I don't."

"Roger, that." Martin added a little humor to his voice.

Risha pulled herself a little further away from him. Her braids rested against the window frame.

Martin frowned and looked out the window of the 2018 Bentley Mulsanne. Only minutes ago, he had been feeling her on the inside, and now she was barely speaking to him.

After their frenzied love-making in the snow, neither of them could form words. He had silently offered her a hand, and then helped her to put the clothes back on her shaking body. She had turned away his tentatively offered embrace.

In the end, they had walked silently through the increasingly heavy snow. After scaling the fence, he helped her down the other side. She shied away from touching any more of his body than necessary.

"I need to go home now."

Those were the first words Risha said to him since their bodies had come apart. He tried to offer other options in a friendly way, or to start up a conversation.

Risha would not even look him in the eye.

In frustration, he reached for his phone to call up an Uber. It took him a few seconds to realize that his phone was slowly rusting away somewhere in a pile of snow.

Martin smiled wryly. "Mind if I share a ride with you? I seem to have misplaced my phone."

Risha failed to respond.

"Don't worry, I'll pay in cash," he finished pleasantly.

"I can walk," Risha said distantly. Her knees trembled.

"You can barely stand. Come on, be reasonable. I'll take you home safely," Martin took a step closer towards Risha, smiling down on her.

Closing her eyes tight, as if in pain, Risha nodded once. Martin smiled and put his hand out for her phone.

For the next five minutes they stood, shivering, until a slick black Bentley pulled up to the curb. Its headlights shone against millions of specks as the slushy sound of tires ground closer.

Now a few feet of fine leather lay between them. It may as well have been the Berlin Wall during the Cold War.

Martin glanced over across that chasm and was surprised to see Risha wiggling her hands in her coat pockets, then her white jeans. She half-stood and slid her silver fingertips into the pockets covering her firm curves.

"Everything all right?" Martin asked.

"I can't find my keys," Risha murmured, without looking at him. "They must have fallen out when we..." Risha trailed off.

"We can go back and look. No trouble at all."

"In a dark, giant field in the middle of a snowstorm?" Risha shot back.

"Then I am sure your apartment manager can let you in," Martin reasoned, "You can go look in the morning. No one else is going to be out there at this time of night."

"The manager is a slumlord. No one ever picks up this late, and I don't know my neighbors."

"Understood."

Martin paused. "You're welcome to stay the night at my place. I have a washer-dryer in the loft if you need to clean up." Images of Risha using snow to wipe his cum off her shaking body flashed into Martin's mind.

A shudder ran through her. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Look, I don't get what's going on with you right now," Martin said smoothly, "but I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman, if that's what you want."

"You can't even comprehend what I want." Risha turned her eyes on him. They were sharp.

"Then fill me in on that intel, lady," Martin hit back. Risha kept silent. The blades of her dark eyes tried to slice him open so she could read his entrails.

"Look, just come back to my place," Martin said firmly. "Get cleaned up. I have an extra bedroom just for you. Get some rest, and then you can figure out what to do tomorrow. I'll bash some heads for you if you need help with your landlord."

Risha closed her eyes. It looked like she was wrestling with herself.

"Okay," she whispered. She laid her finely-braided head back down on the far window.

Inwardly congratulating himself on the win, Martin leaned forward and gave his address to the driver (who had been making an unconvincing show of not eavesdropping on their conversation.) With a friendly nod, the man put in the new destination and turned the wheel into a hard left at the next intersection.

Minutes later, Martin was looking out the wide windows of his apartment, listening to the dim rumble of Risha taking a shower in his bathroom. Her clothes rattled distantly in a washing machine.

He saw his face reflected back in the glass. A haze of white swirled inches away, hiding his usual view of the sprawling lights and streets of D.C.; it hid the apartment buildings and church steeples, schools and traffic circles; it hid, too, the tiny glowing dome of the Capitol, and the regular beating of the two red dots at the top of the distant needle of the Washington Monument.

Martin had thought he knew this city intimately. He knew the glass and metal offices of K Street. He knew the crazy crisscross of downtown traffic. He knew the insides of boardrooms and the folded red velvet and marble of the Russell Senate Building. He'd even gotten an invite (from an old military buddy who'd worked his way up into the Executive branch) to see the bowling alley in the belly of the White House.

This day crushed that confidence. Never once had he met a woman like Risha roaming the streets of D.C.