His hands went to my hips, holding me as he encouraged me to unwrap my legs.
“Bend over, Grace,” he said, turning me so I faced the couch. I shivered and leaned over the black velvet arm, the fabric pressing against my warm skin, softly grazing my nipples.
Sam smoothed his palms up my spine, then down and over my ass. “Beautiful,” he whispered, then his touch left me. I pushed up on my hands and glanced over my shoulder. “Stay there,” he said from a few steps away. He crouched, rummaging in his pants pocket. I took the opportunity to admire his body, his hard thighs, the peaks and troughs of his arms where muscle overlapped muscle. He stood and walked toward me, his thick cock flat against his stomach. Jesus.
Strong was the only word to describe Sam Shaw. And it wasn’t just his body that earned that description. When he spoke, the way he walked—everything about him exuded strength. Like rock, having weathered a thousand years of the world, Sam was strong inside and out.
“Are you ready?” he asked, stroking his hand across my lower back.
Couldn’t he tell?
I opened my legs and turned my head so he couldn’t see my smile as he moaned. The crinkle of the condom wrapper delayed the feel of his cock at my entrance. I sagged, relieved he’d soon be inside me, hoped he’d cure this need I had.
“You want more of me?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Talk to me, Princess,” he said. “I want to hear it.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice small and desperate.
“Say it louder,” he bellowed.
“Please. I want you deeper. I want all of you deeper.”
He slammed into me and I slid against the velvet. He hooked his hand over my shoulder, driving me onto his cock. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He pulled out. “Tell me,” he said, his voice soft.
“Yes, I want it. Please, Sam.” What was he doing to me? This man had me begging for his dick. But as he drove into me again, my questions disappeared and I could only concentrate on the way he filled me up. I had no control over my body. The heat. The layers of pleasure that seemed to settle over me with every thrust. Sam gave me everything and I lay there, feeling like I could give him nothing in return.
His thighs pressed against mine as he continued to fuck me. His hands tugged and pulled at my waist, my hips, my neck. I was covered in him.
I wasn’t used to taking from a man. I was used to giving, to concentrating on making him happy, making sure he was getting what he needed. All I could think about was how good this felt. How perfect Sam made me feel.
He withdrew and I reached for him, but his hands left me, too. I snapped my head around, but before I had time to argue, he’d pulled me up and sat my ass on the back of the sofa. “That’s better. I can see your eyes,” he said, pushing into me again. His pace was less feverish this time, slow and steady and deliberate, as if he’d regained some control now that I’d admitted I wanted him.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine before dipping to kiss my shoulder. His kiss turned to a bite as he increased his thrusts. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t tip over the back of the sofa, but just as I became unsteady, he caught me, pushing us closer, his teeth sinking deeper and deeper. The pain heightened my pleasure and with his next push, my orgasm began to uncurl and my nails dug into his shoulder.
“Oh God, yes,” I cried.
His movements became jagged, and I pulled him toward me, wanting more of him, not ready for the peak of my climax to fade.
He let out a tremendous groan, thrusting sharply into me as his orgasm collided with mine. He brought his forehead back to mine, our breaths short and out of synch.
It was like he tore the pleasure out of me, then coated himself in it. As if our orgasms were symbiotic, joined.
One impossible without the other.
“I knew you’d look unbelievable naked against this couch,” he said as we lay side by side on the cushions, where he’d arranged us post orgasm.
I giggled. “Is that why you bought it?”
“Yeah, I think it was.”
I shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked, pulling us closer. I shook my head. I wasn’t. “I should have a blanket or something. You know, on the back of the cushions like you do in magazines.”
I grinned. “You don’t even have dining chairs—accessories are a second layer. You need the basics first.”
“Have you decided on what tattoo you’re going to get?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “Oh God.” I’d forgotten to look. “Where is it?” I tugged at his arm, twisting it so I could get a better look.
He stroked my chin with his thumb. “You’re very beautiful.”
“Where’s your tattoo?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes from mine, he lifted his arm toward the ceiling. I shifted up onto my elbow, scanning his skin.
“No, on my side,” he said.
Along his body were a few handwritten words. I pressed my fingers next to them and looked closer. “Wait and hope,” I read aloud and glanced up at him as he brought his arm down, hiding the marking once more. It was beautiful. The script was curly and pretty and seemed to decorate rather than defile him. Perhaps I could have a tattoo. I liked the way it hid under his arm waiting to be discovered, revealed just to people he decided he wanted to show it to. It made me feel special. I rarely took risks, but when I had, they seemed to pay off—the gallery, him . . . “What does that mean?” I asked.
“It’s from a book,” he said, cupping my face, distracting me from the ink. He kissed me on the nose. “There was something else I wanted to do to you on this couch.” He pushed himself up, sliding me to the edge of the sofa until I sat up. “Lie back,” he said. “I want to see that blonde hair spread across the cushions.” He pressed my thighs open with his palms and fixed his stare between my legs.
Maybe I should have been embarrassed, but I liked watching him watching me. He was so focused and intense. “Even your pussy is beautiful,” he said, glancing up and grinning at me as he pushed his hands up my thighs. “Your mouth . . .” He kissed me briefly on my lips, using just a whisper of his tongue. “Beautiful. This, here . . .” He trailed his tongue along my collarbone and I melted into the cushions behind me. “Is beautiful. It’s all . . .” He placed kisses down my chest, between my breasts and over my stomach. “Beautiful.” He paused and pulled back before his thumbs opened my lips. I lay before him as he spread me wide, and somehow it was okay to be so exposed to someone, to him at least. It felt right.