Eighteen #2
“Well, I don’t have any of my own witnesses yet. I’m just following the steps with other members of the team.”
“Do you like them?”
“I like them all. This is gonna be a really good change for me.”
I thought so too.
“They all play poker together, so I volunteered to have everyone over here next week. Once that happens, everything will be even better.”
“Why?”
He turned to look at me. “ ’Cause once they all meet you and fall in love with you, we’ll have that between us.”
“What if they hate me?”
“Yeah, like that’ll happen.”
The possibility was, in fact, kind of small. I was likable—Dane did always say so.
Dinner had been nice. I loved Sam’s parents, and they were both kind of crazy about me.
I went to bed early, and Sam stayed up to read, but when he came to bed, he woke me up. The solid length of the erection pressed to the small of my back let me know what he wanted before a warm hand slid down my abdomen and under the elastic waistband of my pajamas.
“Yes, Deputy Marshal? May I help you?”
His hand fisted my already-hardening shaft, and I pushed back against him in response.
“Oh,” I moaned because it felt so good—his hand on me not gentle, rough with wanting.
His mouth was on the back of my neck, nibbling, sucking, as he slid my pajamas down with one hand, moving over my hip, while the other grazed my ass.
The moan became a whimper, and I arched my back as Sam groaned.
“I need you,” he rasped, and I realized something was wrong.
“What were you looking at?” I asked, gasping as I heard the snap of the pop top on the lube before one slick finger slid between my cheeks.
He didn’t answer, but I knew. Whatever he had read in those case files scared him, so he came to the bedroom to check on me, to assure himself that what he loved was safe and secure.
But at some point, in his reminding himself that I was fine, he’d become aroused, and I was about to reap the benefits.
“You want me?” I asked because, sometimes, his desire ran to silence and urgency.
His breath was hot on my ear as two fingers slowly, gently entered me and just as tenderly began to scissor me apart.
“Do you want me on my knees? I can if you hold me?”
He didn’t, and when the fingers eased free, my hole stretched and ready, I felt the first nudge of the head of his penis. My back bowed as I shoved my ass against him.
Taking the motion for the invitation it was, he pressed forward, sliding inside, pushing steadily until I was completely breached and he was fully seated.
He bit down into my shoulder, and I shuddered with the sensation of being completely filled, my channel clenching around him, the muscles contracting and holding him tight.
“Move, Sam. Fuck me.”
He pulled out and then slid back in, the motion, his angle, putting pressure on my prostate as his hand traveled forward down my thigh to fist my shaft. I cried out, and he pushed up deeper, moving around me, rolling to his knees and taking me with him.
My face was in the pillows, my ass in the air as he kept the persistent rhythm of the slow slide in and the long pull out. The man was huge, and he was letting me feel every single inch of length and girth.
“Fuck,” he almost snarled, and his hands were hard on my ass, fingers digging into my flesh as he began to deepen his thrusts, but not quicken them. “You are so fuckin’ hot.”
He liked watching his enormous cock push into my hole—had always loved it—and at that moment, it was taking him over the edge.
“I want you to come,” he commanded, leaning over me, pressing his hard, carved chest to my back as he tugged on my cock from balls to head. “I want it all over the bed, J.”
His mouth, his hands, the feeling of stretched fullness, the way he pegged my gland … I was a goner. I forgot to breathe for a few minutes, and I was lightheaded as Sam pounded me through my own roaring orgasm and his.
He was rough, wrenching my head back, holding me under my hips, making sure we were pressed together as tight as we could be as he pumped semen into my ass, coating my insides, and still pushed deeper, even as it ran down the back of my thighs.
When he could finally stop, he eased from my spasming channel and fell over onto his back, heaving.
I rolled to my side and looked at him. He looked good, all disheveled with his heavy-lidded eyes, and I slid a hand over the six-pack abs, now covered in sweat and cum.
“You all right?” I teased him.
He nodded, but said nothing.
“Sure?”
“You’re a fuckin’ gift, I swear to God,” he said, closing his eyes. “Whatever I need, you give me. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”
It was said not as praise because he wasn’t even looking at me, but simply from his heart because to him, I was everything.
I got up to get him some water, feeling sluggish and slow from the pounding I had taken, and by the time I got back to the bed, I was ready to pass out. I was surprised he was sitting up against the headboard, eyes huge, staring at me like I was a ghost.
“Jesus, what’s with you?”
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Sam?”
He swallowed, licked his lips, and sucked in a breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I leaned on the doorframe. “I brought you some water.”
“Um, J,” he said, starting to smile, “baby, you seem to be on your feet.”
I stared at him, and he stared at me.
Nine weeks, nearing ten, had come and gone, and we weathered it.
We were busy and accepted that whatever was going to happen would happen.
It did not change us—the reality of me being in a wheelchair—and we went on, preparing for the rest of our lives with the certainty that we would be together.
We even met with a great guy at the adoption agency, who was thrilled to work with us.
Life had gone on, and now it had rendered up a gift.
“I guess maybe we should call the doctor in the morning,” was all I said.
He nodded before he rolled out of bed and crossed the room to me fast. Some water spilled when he grabbed me, but it was of no consideration that it was dripping down his back as he hugged the life out of me.
“I didn’t care,” he told me.
“I know,” I said as I leaned far enough to put the glass down on the chest of drawers. “You just love me, Sam, however I am.”
The kiss I got—full of love and overwhelming happiness—let me know, as always, that as far as Sam Kage’s heart was concerned, I knew what I was talking about.