“Now,” he added, his eyes coming back to mine.
I started breathing even harder.
“You ready to take me?” he asked.
I started panting.
I also nodded.
Sam bent low and kissed my belly. Then he pushed up, knelt between my legs and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Seeing his chest, his broad shoulders, his defined stomach, his cut arms, I panted harder.
I also sat up because I knew what the skin of his back felt like.
I had to experience his chest.
So, legs wide, knees bent, soles of my feet in the bed, I sat on my ass in front of Sam, moving my hands on his chest, fingers trailing, exploring, discovering, memorizing.
He felt great.
I leaned in and put my mouth to him, then the tip of my tongue.
Oh God.
He tasted even better.
He was doing something, what, I didn’t know until my mouth shifted down then I saw him rolling a condom on.
But I didn’t see the condom, really. I saw Sam and Sam’s hand at his cock.
He was hard all over, I already knew that.
What I didn’t know until that moment was that he was beautiful all over too.
My head tipped back and I whispered, “Is that for me?”
He grinned down at me.
Then his hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me up as he bent low and against my mouth he answered, “All for you, baby.”
He touched his mouth to mine before he lowered me back but took my hand and guided it to his cock while he settled again into his other hand in the bed, arm straight, looming over me.
“Guide me,” he rumbled and I didn’t delay, I moved him, pulled him, watched his jaw clench, a muscle jump in his cheek then I got the tip inside and just that felt perfect.
My hand flew away as he surged all the way in.
No, no. I was wrong.
This was perfect.
He started moving, slow, deep, his eyes on mine, his free hand roaming my skin.
I was wrong again.
This was perfect.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his hand at the base of my throat, his cock driving deeper, going faster, harder. “Fuck,” he repeated, his hand moving down my chest, between my breasts. I lifted my legs at the knees, pressed the insides of my thighs to his hips and he drove in deeper then faster and harder. “Beautiful,” he kept muttering, his hand down at my belly then down. “Every inch.” He planted himself inside and stayed deep, grinding. “Inside and out,” he finished and his thumb hit me.
Okay, no.
This was perfect.
Sam kept thrusting and watching and that was hot. His thumb pressing and rolling was hotter. Both my hands went to the headboard and I pushed into it, driving myself down as he drove himself up and that, that was amazing.
“Sam,” I gasped.
“Ride me, baby.”
“Sam!” I cried.
“Fuck yes,” he growled and I came again, my back arching off the bed, my hands pressing deep into the headboard grinding myself down on him and this one tore through me, hot, searing, devastating.
Still coming, I felt Sam’s heat and weight hit me, one hand plunging into my hair, fisting, he pressed my face into his neck. The other arm wrapped low on my hips, clamped tight and took over driving me down on his cock. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and alternately breathed, whimpered, moaned, gasped and tasted his skin.
Then his hand in my hair pulled my head back, his face went into my throat, his cock thrust deep and he growled his orgasm against my skin.
And call me crazy, hearing it, feeling it, Sam’s big, warm body heavy and covering me; listening to his orgasm was almost better than actually having the ones he’d given me.
And the ones he’d given me were freaking spectacular.
His fist relaxed in my hair but his hand didn’t leave it. His fingers sifted then twisted gently, tangling in the strands and staying there as Sam kept his cock rooted, connected to me and, as I tilted my chin down, his head slid up so I felt his breath under the skin of my ear.
Finished, I was languishing in the feel of all that was him, his heat, his power, his weight all held tight in my circling limbs, the aftermath, the connection of Sam still deep inside, his breath at my ear.
Then it hit me he wasn’t speaking.
And then it hit me that Sam communicated. It couldn’t be said I had a lot of experience with guys but my friends did and they talked about them all the time, talked as in bitched, and one of the things they bitched about the most was that the men in their lives never communicated.
Sam did.
All the time.
He was open. He was honest. He shared.
But now he wasn’t saying a word.
Oh God.
Shit!
“Uh…” I forged into the silence then asked quickly, “Was that okay?”
Sam didn’t answer immediately.
Then he didn’t answer at all but instead asked, “What?”
I kept my eyes glued to the ceiling and repeated, “Was that, uh… okay?”
Sam’s head came up and he looked down at me.
God. God.
He was beautiful.
Even more beautiful covering me and connected to me.
“Was that okay?” he repeated my question.
“Uh… yeah.”