Ginny heard a knock at her door around eight. She looked around the room. She’d managed to tidy everything up. Her suite wasn’t as fancy as Boreas’ villa, but it was still pretty swanky. There was a big television and a couch. The first-floor room led right out to the beach. She’d asked hotel staff to give Boreas her information because she’d realized that her room would be harder to find than his villa on the black sand beach.

Ginny gave her hair one last look in the mirror and went to open the door.

Ginny was wearing sexy but casual loungewear, perfect for watching a movie.

Boreas, on the other hand, was wearing her dress.

More specifically, he was wearing the dress she’d left behind on his deck.

Ginny couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“Really?” asked Ginny. “You wore that all the way here?”

“No,” said Boreas. “I just put it on to have something to do while you took forever to open the door.”

Boreas took the dress off, balled it up, and handed it back to Ginny. Boreas was wearing a pair of acid washed light jeans and a white V-neck shirt. It wasn’t the most stylish look, and Ginny was sure it didn’t count as resort casual, but it didn’t matter.

“Well, this is how the other half lives,” said Ginny.

Boreas raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, how the other half of the guests of the hotel live,” said Ginny. “Come on in. We can order room service if you want anything.”

“I’m fine,” said Boreas, watching as Ginny scurried around the room.

“You sure you don’t want some ice water?” asked Ginny, producing a cup of ice water.

“Well, given you made it for me all special, I just have to drink it, now, don’t I?” asked Boreas. He held the cup to his mouth and took a sip. He took a cube into his mouth and crunched it. Then, he took the cup and spilled a good bit of the water on his shirt.

“Oops,” said Boreas, looking Ginny dead in the eye as he poured the rest of the water onto his body. “Every time I’m around you…things just seem to spill.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. Was this guy for real? This fancy hotel wasn’t exactly the kind of place that held wet t-shirt contests, but, if it were, Boreas would’ve taken first place and probably obtained a bucket of strawberry margarita mix as a prize.

“You’re gonna get water on the couch,” said Ginny lamely, not sure what to say.

“My apologies,” said Boreas. “Will this work better?”

Boreas took the bottom of the shirt and pulled it over his head.

It was supposed to be a sexy way to reveal his body.

Instead, the wet shirt got stuck on his head. Boreas tried to get it off, barely able to see anything through the damp fabric. He felt a pair of soft, hot hands on his skin. How could hands so soft feel like branding irons against his skin?

“Calm down, silly,” ordered Ginny with a laugh. “Let me help you.”

Ginny managed to get Boreas’ shirt off his head. She tossed it in the hamper of her laundry.

“Well, now I’m all shirtless and vulnerable,” joked Boreas.

“Good thing you don’t need a shirt to watch a movie,” said Ginny.

“You know, there’s a lot of things you don’t actually need a shirt for,” said Boreas, pulling Ginny close. “How’s that saying go? I’ll show you mine…”

“…If you show me yours,” said Ginny. “Well, if it applies to our secrets, I guess it also applies to our clothes.”

Ginny let Boreas take off her pajama top, revealing that underneath, Ginny wasn’t wearing a darn thing.

“No bra?” asked Boreas.

“You’re not wearing a bra either!” said Ginny, somewhat miffed.

“Hey, I’m a fan of the no-bra look,” said Boreas, taking Ginny’s ample breasts in his hand and feeling their weight. “I’m just surprised.”

“Well, obviously, you don’t know much about women, because if you did, you know we love taking our bras off! Wearing a bra to bed is even more masochistic than getting strung up on a St. Andrew’s Cross while getting your nipples tortured with clothespins!” said Ginny.

“That’s a very specific example,” said Boreas. “Is that what women are into nowadays?”

“Well, I’m certainly not,” said Ginny.

“Then why don’t you show me how you like it?” asked Boreas.

Ginny took Boreas’s hands and put them on her thick waist. She felt his firm icy grip against her soft, round warm curves.

The two made quite a pair. They seemed like complete opposites. She was fiery and hot who could chill and relax around him. He was an ice king who melted around her.

They were both big in different ways. She was fuller than him, and he was much taller than her. Both their different kinds of bigness were sexy.

As Boreas felt Ginny’s soft, hot, buttery curves, his frosty icicle hardened. As Ginny felt Boreas’s icy firm hands dig into her waist rolls, she felt the spot between her legs moisten and soften. Her softness made him hard. His hardness turned her to jelly.

Ginny closed her eyes and threw her head back as Boreas ran his hands over her body.

“No, no, no,” scolded Boreas, picking Ginny up and carrying her over to the large bed in her room. He got up and closed the blinds that exposed the room to anyone walking by the glass sliding door leading to Ginny’s first floor private porch. He went back to the bed and picked Ginny up.

“No what?” asked Ginny.

“Don’t play coy with me,” growled Boreas. “I told you to show me how you like it. How you really like it.”

“You mean…” started Ginny, feeling her cheeks turn red.

“If you don’t show me how you want it, I’ll have to figure it out myself,” said Boreas. “Do I look like a gentleman?”

“No,” admitted Ginny, thinking back to when Boreas has ripped open the frikkin’ lobsters with his bare hands. “You’re mysterious. You’re a bad boy. I have no ideas what rules you’ll break to get what you want.”

“Then if you don’t teach me a lesson, and I have to study you myself…well, it’ll be rough,” said Boreas, hooking a finger beneath Ginny’s chin. “It’ll be a rough first draft.”

“And what would your final draft be?” asked Ginny.

“Hey, now,” said Boreas sternly. “First thing’s first. You gonna give me a driving lesson and show me how to handle your curves, or, are you going to take my roughest work?”

“I want it rough,” said Ginny, clawing down Boreas’s chest with her bright orange painted nails, still short as she had to keep them cut short for work.

Boreas took Ginny’s hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand, melting her heart.

And then, he tipped her back, using Ginny’s own weight against her! Ginny’s back hit the firm mattress before her wrist, gripped in Boreas’ hand, hit the sheets.

“What are you —” started Ginny. She was interrupted by her own gasps of surprise as Boreas moved to kneel between her legs, one hand on her wrist, keeping it pinned above her head. His other hand cupped Ginny’s ample breast, feeling the soft moistness of her skin in his rough hands.

Ginny was surprised that such a wealthy man had such rough hands. To be fair, she didn’t have concrete proof Boreas was rich, but he walked with the swagger of a man who either had an eleven-inch cock or a nine-digit long bank account.

From the growing bulge in his pants, it was clear he had at least one of those things.

Ginny reached to touch Boreas’ cock, but he pushed her free hand up and away.

“Uh-uh,” said Boreas. “I already know how my body works. I’m interested in yours.”

“And so I’m just supposed to sit here like…a sitting duck?” asked Ginny.

“Well, you said you wanted the rough treatment,” said Boreas. “Of course, I would love more of your feedback. It’s like music to my ears.”

“What feedback?” asked Ginny.

“Are you kidding? Whenever I run my fingers over certain parts of your body…” started Boreas before running his fingertips over the sides of Ginny’s thick thighs. “Exactly. Just like that.”

“Just like what?” asked Ginny breathily.

“Just…” started Boreas, gripping her thick thighs, one in each hand, his cock hardening as he dug into Ginny’s pajamas with his fingers.

“…Like…” continued Boreas, hiking Ginny up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. He felt her soft hot legs envelop him like his tongue had surrounded the meat of the lobster. He wanted to be consumed by the curvy BBW and her flesh, to disappeared in her heat and burn like a phoenix, rising anew in the ashes.

“…This,” finished Boreas, pressing his bulge against Ginny’s inner thighs.

Ginny rocked her hips up to meet Boreas’ bulge. Boreas gently unwrapped Ginny, taking her pajama pants and underwear off together, inch by inch, until Ginny was entirely naked. Her every curve was exposed to Boreas.

But Boreas didn’t take his pants off.

He got down on the bed, hiked Ginny’s legs up around his shoulders, pulled her in close, and showed her how rough he could get.

Ginny had always thought oral seemed boring. It was just a bunch of licking and slurping and wetness.

Within seconds of Boreas pressing his mouth between her legs, Ginny learned she was wrong. She had been so very wrong. If the oral she had experienced in the past was like a dirty sandbox, this oral was like the black sand beach by Boreas’ villa.

Ginny gripped the sheets as Boreas gripped her thighs. Her mouth opened wide as she gasped with desire as Boreas’ lips opened to take the top of her slit into his mouth and swirl his tongue around her sensitive nub’s folds.

Ginny’s hips bucked with a life of their own. Boreas rode the waves of Ginny’s undulations of pleasure, rocking his body to the rhythm of her body.

“Boreas,” moaned Ginny.

“That’s right,” said Boreas. “Say my name. You like it like this?”

Boreas sucked on her clit. He rubbed his tongue over her clit, running the tip of his tongue over her sensitive spot quickly. He stopped sucking on her clit but kept vibrating his tongue against her clit. As Ginny writhed beneath him, he pressed two fingers into her canal and felt her wetness. He took her juices and used them to massage her folds.

“Fuck,” cursed Ginny. “I never knew I liked it like this.”

Ginny realized something different about Boreas.

At the same time, Boreas realized Ginny was a woman unlike any he’d ever been with.

As Boreas’ tongue ran over Ginny’s slit, she realized it wasn’t hot. It was wet, yes, but it was cold, ice-cold, and it sent a shiver down her spine. This wasn’t the type of cold that came from poor circulation. This was like the time Ginny couldn’t find the imported rose water in the walk-in fridge and searched for it for over fifteen minutes before realizing that they didn’t keep the rose water in the refrigerator.

As Boreas’ fingers entered Ginny, they were met with a warmth unlike any he’d felt before. He’d felt women. He knew of their heady heat. This was a heat that was more like the heat he’d felt back at The South Pole when he’d burned himself when his crew of elementals was running experiments on a geothermal vent.

Boreas was ready to burn. If bringing Ginny to climax was the last thing he ever did, he’d gladly go out in a blaze of glory, a phoenix returning to white ashes one could mistake for powdery snow.

Boreas took Ginny’s flesh into his mouth and swirled it around. It was like he was eating a cookie hot out of the oven before it had time to cool, or cannelés de Bordeaux, the pastry turning to a custard softness in his mouth, as it filled him with warmth.

Ginny arched her back as the familiar icy feeling filled her body. It was cold, but it felt electric, like a bolt of lightning slicing through a blizzard, striking the surface of a desert’s sands. Such lighting made glass as it struck the sands, in shapes no human mind could imagine. As Ginny contorted her body into such shapes, forms that she’d never danced before, turning and flowing like molten glass being tamed by the breath of a glassblower.

As Boreas licked Ginny, Boreas felt as if his face was being licked by flames. It was as if he was being burned alive for the sin of lust, and in a way, he was. If there was one woman he’d burn for, it was Ginny, and if there was one way he’d choose to burn, it would be between her legs.

The embers of the fire weren’t tampered by his ice touch.

They only seemed to grow stronger.

Boreas felt the blaze in Ginny grow. His cock, rock hard, dripped more pre-cum, the icy droplets making their way down his icicle.

With one last tip of his fingers, one last lick of his tongue, Boreas stoked the blaze, which engulfed both him and Ginny.

Ginny came around Boreas’ fingers, crying out as Boreas continued to work her while she climaxed.

Boreas’ cold body had always confused her, but now, even though she had no explanation to why he felt the way he did, she knew one thing.

She never wanted another man’s touch. Unless she could find a man who felt just like Boreas, who knew what do with his mouth, his fingers, his face, Boreas was not in danger of losing his coveted position betwixt her legs.

“Boreas…I’ve never had it like that before,” said Ginny. “You’re next level good.”

“Eh, I should be, given how experienced I am,” said Boreas. He lay down on the bed and pulled Ginny down so that her head was on his chest. Ginny could hear Boreas’ heartbeat. Boreas’ chest wasn’t hot, though. It was ice cold, just like every other part of Boreas’ body that Ginny had touched.

Ginny frowned. “Really?”

“What?” asked Boreas. “Come on! We’re not virgins!”

“I don’t wanna hear about how experienced you are,” said Ginny.

“Look — if you tried to bake cookies for the first time, and they burned, would that be pretty normal and understandable?” asked Boreas.

“Yes,” said Ginny warily.

“Well, if you’d tried to bake cookies for many years, and were still making crappy cookies, that’d be a little weird, right?” asked Boreas.

“Are you saying sex is like baking cookies?” asked Ginny.

“I’m saying practice makes perfect, and I have had nowhere nearly enough time to practice with you. Now…were you serious about inviting me over to watch a movie, or are you going to kick me out?” asked Boreas.

“Of course we can watch a movie,” said Ginny, leaning into Boreas’ chest. “Wait. What about you?”

‘What about me?” asked Boreas.

“Getting you off,” said Ginny. “It’s my turn.”

“I told you,” said Boreas. “Tonight wasn’t about me. When you want round two, let me know. But, tonight, the only thing you can do to make me happy is enjoy yourself…and pick whether we’re going to watch some action flick or a rom-com.”

“Ooh, a rom-com sounds fun,” said Ginny. She reached for the remote and scrolled through the romantic comedy section.

“Funny,” said Boreas. “Rom-coms look a lot different on my phone.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ginny.

“Don’t they usually have more flesh?” asked Boreas. “Titles like ‘Super-Sized BBW Tries Anal For The First Time?’”

“Rom-coms aren’t the same as pornos!” said Ginny, elbowing Boreas.

“They aren’t?” asked Boreas. “Rom-com — a ‘rom’ that helps you ‘com.’”

“You know what? Now, I’m kinda glad I didn’t give you that blowjob,” joked Ginny.