Like The Driven Snow

Stephen sighed in relief as the ending credits of the movie rolled across the screen. He’d tolerated the overly sweet romance for Rachel’s pleasure, but a love story between a woman and her husband’s ghost was far too weird for his sensibilities. Stephen would have preferred to see the mafia flick that was also playing, but he could afford to take an hour and a half out of his life to please his new girlfriend. He would do anything for his black-haired angel, but he wasn’t about to let her in on that fact. Not yet.

Beside him Rachel was still sniffling into her tissue. He could never comprehend why all that mush made women so weepy, but rather than make fun of her for it he put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. She smelled like honey and vanilla.

“You okay?” he asked.

She dabbed her nose and nodded. “Yeah. Mushy movies always make me cry.” She giggled softly and looked up at him with wide eyes, fully expecting a rude remark as she’d received in the past from her other boyfriends. But Stephen just smiled at her.

The tears clinging to Rachel’s long eyelashes made her pale green eyes seem even more luminous. Tipping her chin up with his thumb, he leaned in close. His gray eyes were unreadable. “Silly,” he whispered, his warm breath a kiss of its own. She instinctively closed her eyes.

His velvet lips barely touched hers. They felt like the brush of a partially opened rose and tasted of popcorn and cherry candy. There was hesitancy in the kiss, but it was filled with longing and a passion Rachel had never known in her eighteen years of life. She felt overheated, lightheaded. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure Stephen could hear it too. Then his lips were gone as quickly as they had come, though Rachel stayed in that position with her eyes closed for many long moments hoping he would kiss her again. But a second kiss never came.

When she opened her eyes Stephen was standing up to put on his coat. Wordlessly, Rachel did the same, hoping no one saw how her legs were shaking.

Stephen and Rachel left the movie theatre hand in hand, still silent since the kiss. As they approached the glass exit doors Rachel squealed in delight. While they were in the theater a snowstorm had arrived in West Chapel Village and taken the town in its white embrace. The young woman tightened her grip on Stephen’s hand and yanked him through the doors into the falling snow. He didn’t bother to resist.

Most women Rachel’s age put on airs attempting to be far more mature than they really were and only succeeded in looking ridiculous. But Rachel Lovett was completely genuine. Stephen felt himself relax and he joined in with her infectious laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly laughed.

Breaking away, Rachel scooped up a handful of snow in her leather-clad hand. She sidled up to him, eyes sparkling, mouth stretched into a broad grin. Stephens gut reaction was to turn and run, but he ignored it, partially hypnotized by her gaze. The spell was broken however when the tiny woman rose up on her toes and proceeded to mush the snowball onto the top of his head.

"Hey!" Stephen shook the snow from his long blond hair and made a grab for the snickering Rachel. She was too quick for him, however and quickly darted away. Spinning about gracefully, her waist length hair flying, she ran. Stephen followed close behind, the snow filling both their footprints. Although not particularly athletic Rachel was a swift runner and Stephen had difficulty catching up to her at first. When he finally caught her he snatched her up in his arms and they twirled around and around through the falling snow.

Then suddenly the entire mood changed. As if someone had pressed a button Stephen became serious. His forehead creased as he set her back on her feet and continue to stare silently into her face. Rachel’s own smile faded and her expression clouded over in worried confusion.

“Steph? What’s wrong?”

The young man opened his mouth as if to answer and then closed it again, not knowing what to say, how to answer that question. He had what he’d been dreaming about since the first time he’d ever seen Rachel behind the counter at the mall sandwich shop. It felt wonderful to finally have her in his arms. But something unpleasant tugged at the edges of his mind. He heard the voice of fate whisper to him. This was not meant to be, they were not meant to be.

He cupped her chin in his hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb gazing down as if he feared she might disappear at any moment. He’d never believed in love at first sight until he’d seen her, and now that he believed he could not bear the thought of ever losing it. Part angel, part witch, Rachel could never be considered pretty in any normal sense of the word with eyes that were slightly too big for her face and skin so pale it could almost blend in with the snow. Her mouth was wide with full, pale pink lips that when they weren’t smiling were silently begging to be kissed.

Slipping his free arm around her waist Stephen pulled her up to him so he could savor those lips. Her arms encircled his neck, pressing her nubile body against him. Her lips tasted like raspberry lip-gloss, buttered popcorn and her own flavor that was indescribable. He crushed the petite beauty to him, doing his best to forget that he and Rachel were attempting to defy fate. No matter how tightly they clung to each other fate would eventually intervene and rip them apart.

When Stephen broke the kiss he turned and walked away. Rachel followed, confused and disturbed at his behavior, wondering what she’d done wrong. Finally she put out a hand and grabbed his coat sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. She moved to stand in front of him.

"Stephen…" said Rachel in her soft dove-like voice, "What is wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. He slipped past her and started walking again. He’d only moved a few yards when he realized his date was not following. He turned back around.

She stood beneath a street lamp on a nearly deserted side street. The thickly falling snow felt like a curtain shielding them from the rest of the world. Rachel stared back him in silence, the snowflakes catching in her hair and her eyelashes giving her the appearance of a snow fairy.

“It’s getting late I should get you home," Stephen suggested, turning once again to continue walking.

"But it’s not even ten!" Rachel argued. “Damn it, Stephen! Come back here!”

Surprised by her tone, Stephen turned back to her just in time to see her throw something at him. The frosty projectile hit Stephen directly in the forehead and exploded, temporarily hampering his vision. He wiped his face as he ran after her, growling and muttering expletives, his angst now forgotten.

They circle the lamppost a few times before he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back against the cold metal. She cried out softly at his coarse treatment of her, but she didn't struggle against him. The smile fell from her face and was replaced with an expression of predatory lust. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed audibly through her open mouth, almost panting.

But Stephen didn't kiss her. For a long moment he held her there, not moving at all except for the changing moods that registered kaleidoscopically over his countenance. Looks of sadness, frustration, tenderness, and desire came and went from his face until all that remained was a strange smirk. Rachel gazed at him, too enthralled by his handsome, cat-like face to even wonder what his grin foretold. Without releasing his secure hold on her, Stephen stooped and picked up a small handful of snow. Squeezing it firmly, he compacted it into a pebble of ice.

Rachel, who had been watching in lustful interest, asked in a throaty whisper, "What are you doing?"

"Revenge," he answered, his voice tinged with menace. He pulled open her black wool coat revealing the tight, low-cut black blouse that had distracted him all through the movie. Without bothering to elaborate further, Stephen reached into her blouse with the ice ball and pressed it against the fragile skin of her breast.

She drew in breath and squealed loudly as the iciness met the warmth of her body. But instead of struggling to get away her whole body writhed against his, her back arching and pressing her skin more firmly against the ice in his hand. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips and reached out for him, drawing him in for a ferocious kiss. Her pelvis pressed against his left thigh while she caressed the inside of his other leg with her knee. She pulled off one leather glove and twisted her bare fingers in his snow-dampened hair.

Stephen had dissolved into Rachel’s touch and did not resist in the least when she pulled head back by the hair at the nape of his neck. She stood on her toes to kiss and nibble at his neck his neck. He gasped in both pain and pleasure giving himself over to Rachel's control, letting her have her fun for just a moment. With one hand she unbuttoned his leather trench coat and pressed into his warmth, using her entire body to tease him.

Stephen pulled off his gloves and tossed them to the ground. With his bare hands he reached under her short velvet skirt and squeezed the firm flesh of her ass through her satin panties. Massaging it roughly, he pressing her against him so she could feel his erection through their clothing. She murmured something between their kisses and reached down to lovingly run her nails over the bulge in his jeans.

He let out a sound that was half sigh, half purr. Encouraged by his reaction she unzipped his jeans and reached into the opening of his boxers. He shuddered at the sensation of her icy fingers coming into contact with the heat of his cock. She pulled him free of the clothing and the tiny snowflakes blasted his delicate skin sending surges of sharp, marvelous sensation through his body.

Rachel crouched down to lap the droplets of moisture from the shaft, delicately tracing the curves of his penis with her tongue. She alternated between kissing and licking and with one hand she lightly fondled his testicles, stroking and tugging on them. The feel of his hands on the back of her head as he fully entered her mouth fully aroused her and she groaned aloud.

A cry of outrage came from Rachel’s left and they both turned to see they were being gawked at by a distinguished looking old man who was walking a black poodle. The man stared in disapproval, his hand on his hip, but before he could speak Stephen sneered at him and gave him the finger. The man turned a dark purplish red, mumbled something that neither Stephen nor Rachel could make out then departed at a very brisk pace.

The two young people looked at each other and laughed at having been observed. Rachel moved to resume indulging him with her tongue, but he grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. There were few things he liked more than oral sex, but he didn't want her to do it here. That was a private thing, and he didn't like the idea of strangers watching her suck him. Besides, it was time to take back control.

He tucked his cock away for the moment and pressed Rachel against the lamppost. He took her mouth violently with his own and kissed her until her lips were swollen and raw. She whimpered at his roughness and clung to him tightly.

Grasping her blouse in his hands, Stephen ripped it open, the pearl buttons popping off loudly and becoming lost forever in the deepening snow.

"Oh, God, Stephen…" Rachel said as she gasped in excitement. He smiled down at her and with a flick of one finger he unclasped the front closure of her lacy bra, exposing her petite but beautiful breasts to the numbing wind. Her nipples hardened into dark pink points and her pale skin became covered with gooseflesh as the snow fell against her tits.

Rachel arched her back as Stephen's arms encircled her and he lifted her almost off her feet to seize one nipple between his teeth.

"Oooohhhh," she groaned, tossing her head back, the snow striking her face.

He sucked mercilessly at the delicate nipple, pulling it through his teeth to make her cry out again before moving to abuse its mate. Rachel panted loudly, tiny sounds of ecstasy escaping her throat.

One of his hands sneaked beneath her skirt. She squeaked as his cold fingers made contact with her heated sex to amuse himself with the sounds that she made as he stroked her clitoris. She quivered involuntarily as he located the most sensitive part of her tiny pink erection and grasped it between his thumb and index finger.

"Oh god, oh god!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the near stillness of the night as she came. "Please, Stephen… stop… I can't take it!" Her hips quaked and she tried to pull away but his hand moved with her. He responded with a low chuckle and attacked her clitoris more brutally to make her cry out louder. She began to slap Stephen on the shoulder as she gasped for breath between screams.

"Oh yeah," he said, his voice husky with excitement. She struggled to move away, the pleasure was too intense, but Stephen held Rachel to him with one powerful arm. She buried her face in his shoulder, attempting to muffle her cries as she suddenly remembered where they were, her fighting growing less frenzied as she realized that escape from Stephen's relentless torture was hopeless.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped the cruel manipulation of her sex and she collapsed against him gasping for breath and shivering.

Rachel whispered, "I love you, Stephen," weakly into his ear.

Ignoring her words, he told her, "I'm going to take you now." The elasticized strings of her panties ripped easily and he tucked the undergarment away in his pocket as a souvenir.

"Yes," she whispered, "uhn, Stephen I want you so bad." She pulled his cock out of his pants again and stroked it teasingly. Rachel was a tiny woman and Stephen had no problem lifting her. She wrapped her stocking clad legs tightly around his waist, and he braced her against the lamppost before penetrating her slowly.

"Oh, Rachel," he groaned as he entered her near-virginal tightness. She wrapped her arms around his neck for stability and he kissed her. Using the post as leverage, Stephen began screwing her leisurely, taking the time to enjoy her moans and whimpers as he slid in and out of her. Stephen watched Rachel's face as they fucked, the wind tossing her hair about, the snow swirling about. Her lips were parted, slightly frowning as she breathed through her mouth. Her head was tilted back slightly; her eyes closed in rapture at the feeling of his cock inside of her.

Little by little his tempo increased, as did her song of ecstasy. She opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look at him. Her sable eyes looked black in the dim glow of the street lamp. Her mouth was opened into an O.

So beautiful, he thought, holding her more tightly.

Stephen closed his eyes trying to hold back as he neared the breaking point. He wasn't ready yet. No, not nearly ready. He felt Rachel's lips on his and he kissed her back softly, focusing on the taste of her lips, the feel of her breath on his cheek, the salty sweet scent of her sex.

She was so tiny, so fragile… Stephen wanted to stay this way with her forever…

He felt her vagina clamp around his erection, her fingernails dig into his skin. He opened his eyes to watch her face as she came.

"Yes… oh, yes…" she murmured, her face turning skyward.

Stephen's heart swelled with emotion as he watched the beauty of her face contort with orgasm. He moved more swiftly to prolong her pleasure, yet at the same time trying to hold himself back. But she was so warm, so moist around him… the constriction of her pussy pulling at his dick was so intense…

He drove her brutally into the post as he came, bruising her back, but she was so lost in her own orgasms the pain of it only added to her pleasure. He pounded her, his cum spurting into her depths as he achieved release and moaned into her hair.

As Stephen's hold on her relaxed, Rachel slid slowly to the ground. Her head fell into the crook of his neck and she nuzzled him contentedly, delivering sweet kisses to his neck.

"I love you," she told him for the second time that night.

He tilted his head to look down at her and she picked up her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. They smiled at each other. He leaned into her and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

With his thumb he stroked her cheek softly. "We should get you home now," he told her, "before we both get sick."

Rachel's eyes misted over as she fought back the pain of realization. Stephen didn't love her. He cared deeply, he wanted her, but it wasn't love. Or so she thought.

It hurt him to see her suffer like that, but what was he to do? It was better to allow her to believe there was no love on his end to protect her from what he knew was inevitable. He took her hand and led her in the direction of her house, callously ignoring the tears sliding down her cheeks.

It's better this way, he told himself silently, for both of us.