CHAPTER 11
Nina
The most amazing orgasm won’t stop. My body just keeps convulsing, as if honoring him by wringing my very essence dry. Every time another wave hits, I clamp around him.
He’s still hard inside me as he lays me back on the bed. His breathing is barely shaken. All his weight is kept on his elbows as he makes a flesh ceiling over me, protecting me, keeping me safe. He doesn’t move.
“That was… incredible,” I huff as I finally begin to descend. The aftershocks still hit me, but they’re less intense. They’re like smaller rolls of bliss.
“Incredible,” he agrees, snuffling his nose into my neck to lay kisses along the length. Comforting kisses.
But I suddenly realize something I should have considered earlier: he can’t possibly be satisfied.
Sure, I felt him come. He growled. His features hardened.
He kept eye contact, which just made it all so much hotter.
And I swear, I felt his cum shoot into me with the force of liquid fire.
Yet, he’s a man known for his kinks and passions.
After the triplets, and the numerous others that he’s taken in his Red Room, I can’t have given him what he truly needs with the simple, upright missionary-position-vanilla-sex.
Although it didn’t feel very vanilla to me.
Another clench. Another ripple of bliss.
He deserves more.
“Hey, Sampson, look at me.”
Instantly, he does as I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Your voice. The ridge along your brow, here.” He strokes the place where my forehead furrows. “Tell me. Let me make it better.”
And he would, too. I know that now. The generous, gigantic firefighter would do anything I ask if it made me feel good. I should have known that about him from the start.
“It’s not what I want that’s bothering me. It’s what you want, because I know this must have seemed kind of bland to you…”
“Are you kidding? I’m still coming.” To illustrate the fact, he slides out a bit and back in, then grunts. “There are no words for this feeling.”
“But I know about your Red Room, and the triplets, and… others, and, well, I just want you to know that I’ll try whatever makes sex special for you next time. Okay?”
“Oh. Kay.” He draws out the word, but now it’s his brow that’s furrowed. In a sudden shift, he rotates us so that he lies beneath me and I’m sprawled over him, but he’s still inside me. Still a part of me. “What exactly do you think I need to make sex special that you haven’t just given me?”
I balance my palms on his abdomen. “I don’t know. Whatever it is that you like to do?”
“Because?”
I can’t believe he’s being this dense. “Because you deserve to feel as good as you just made me feel.”
“Because?” But his voice is a low slide, a temptation all its own, and I don’t understand it, but it’s emotional rather than physical.
And maybe that’s what he needs from me. Odd for a guy to want the feels after fucking, but my gigantic firefighter isn’t a regular guy.
“Because,” I say, “what we just did—what we’re still doing—wasn’t just sex for me. I don’t…” And I don’t have the words to describe it, except with poetry, and saying those words would be even more weird.
“Just say it. Come on, Jelly Bean. Be brave.”
I blow out a long breath. “Fine. The fucking was transcendent, okay? You just made me feel eternal, like the sea washing to shore, or like I’m connected to the earth in new ways, and even like I can feel the universe spin through my blood.
You being inside me feels so damned right.
It’s like vampire romance, without the darkness, but right, because there was so much light.
Which is ridiculous, but…” I lower my voice to a whisper.
“Like that. You deserve to feel that, because it was… it is… truly awesome what you make me feel.”
He smiles a long, slow smile, lips closed over his double rows of teeth.
“That’s a Cheshire grin if ever I saw one.
” But I pause to regroup. “I write about sex all the time in my romances. Everything is kink and pain and blood, so I know about the hard edges of passion, but only intellectually. And I know about perfection, that perfect lift of orgasm, in the same way. In real life, though, sex has been kind of just okay for me. And I know great sex depends on arousal, and feeling safe with someone, like I guess I must feel with you, though it’s hard to believe given we were enemies until two minutes ago.
But I want you to feel that with me, too, only I think…
I think you probably need more than straightforward fucking to get there, right? ”
“You think I can’t find transcendent, earth-shattering bliss unless I’m using a flogger?”
I shrug. I don’t know. “I just want you to feel this. Is that so strange?”
Because what if I’m the only one who feels the cord now stretched between us? Maybe I’m the only one who felt that caverning feeling, as if my body made a pact with him, forever. Maybe he thinks this was just casual and fun… like what I thought it would be, until it suddenly wasn’t.
I freaked earlier when he mentioned a connection between us. All I wanted was sex. But now? Now, I’m not so sure.
Jeez, Nina, why don’t you just ask him for monogamy and a ring? Way to lose a guy in three minutes of post-coital bliss. Yet another entry into those global records, and again, not for the right reason.
“I’ve read your books, you know. I think you might be missing the point of what you write. Ever study your own work?” His fingers are gentle against my face, stroking me, but every part of me tenses at his words.
“You’ve read my books? Talk about mortified.”
“I read all your books. There’s a small chance that I’ve been obsessed with you for years.”
“You were?”
His smile is sweet. “I guess so. I didn’t realize it, but yeah.
Seems that way.” He suddenly laughs. “I especially liked how Victor gave Simone ten orgasms in the closet, while the band played just outside the door. And those binder clips he used… I would think that would hurt a little too much, but you made it sound okay. Plus, vampires. They’re a little shady. ”
Fine, I’m mortified, but less so than I should be, because Sampson’s still inside me, and for some ridiculous reason, I trust him not to hurt me now, not physically, and not mentally or emotionally. And not with binder clips, which had to be my stupidest sex scene, ever.
“You think the sex was great because I can do this.” He grabs my hips, lifts me to his tip, before plunging me down over him again, raking every inch of me with acid sweetness. “Man, that feels incredible,” he groans.
And it does. So very, very incredible.
He pumps once more before stilling. “To answer your original questions, I think the physical reason you felt our union as strongly as you did is because I’ve been lucky enough to study women.
And what I found most was that women need to be admired.
Lucky for the both of us, I admire you like rockets. ”
I giggle at his comparison. “Like rockets?”
“Full blast off, lots of sparks, loads of fire. It’s an adoration that can’t be faked no matter what people claim. That’s what you needed. That’s what I needed, too. I needed to adore you.”
“And do you? Adore me?” My words are so quiet, I can barely hear them.
He lifts his head to nuzzle into my neck, his tongue doing special swirls that light up my skin.
“I adore you,” he whispers against my flesh, hot breath on cooling kiss.
“I always have, even when I thought I hated you. And for the record, I don’t need anything other than this.
You give me you, and that’s everything. No spanking bench or binder clips necessary. ”
But before I can ask him if he adores me more than any other women, before I can truly make a fool of myself, he lies back. “We’re meant to be, Jelly Bean.”
“We are?”
He nods before lifting my falling hair back behind my ear. It only falls again. “There’s no kink you need to get into to please me. Want to know a secret?”
“A secret?” And instantly I’m distracted. I might as well have ADHD, the way I can be led down any path put in front of me, but this one seems far more promising than most.
He nods again and brushes my cheekbone with his fingertips.
“My secret kink is making women feel good. I like to find that spot, that amount of force, that direction, that toy… whatever it is at the moment, because if the woman I’m with is blissed out, then so am I.
That’s the honest truth, even if it’s not very manly to admit it. ”
“So, if I say I want you on your knees?”
“I’ll be there before you can finish the order.”
“And if I decide I want you to dominate me?”
“You’ll be on your knees before you can finish the thought.”
“Spanking? Tying me up? Pain?”
“If I feel you’re truly enjoying it, I’m up for anything.
Any kink, any desire. But for me, personally?
” His other hand comes up to stroke my cheek, so my face is cradled between his touch.
“I’m not like most men, Jelly Bean. I don’t know why I’m built differently, but I can’t come unless I feel the woman I’m with is enjoying what I’m doing to her.
I get my kicks, so to speak, from making her wild.
Otherwise, frankly, the endorphins I get from running ten miles and lifting weights last longer than an orgasm. ”
Wait. That sounds… “You mean you can’t…”
He nods.
Whoa. That’s a lot to unpack, especially while every part of me is rearranging my atoms to better conform to him.
“You’re kind of perfect, you know that?”
He flips me again onto my back and smiles down into my face. “You’re kind of perfect, too.” And he pulls out only to thrust back in again, sending little electrical sparks up my spine as he hollows out my core and fills it again.
Fucking perfect.