Chapter Seven #3
to him. Right now, all of my doubts are obliterated by the glide of
his tongue against mine, and though I can't know if he still
returns my feelings, if he still harbors the love he professed
barely a month ago, I do know that at least physically, his need
for me is all-consuming. It's impossible to doubt, and I'm
determined to leave no doubt with him that I need him just as
badly.
My fingers find their way
to his back, slipping under the hem of his tee shirt, exploring the
lean muscle there. But the more my fingers touch his skin, the more
skin they want, and soon my palms are pressing, almost scratching
as I follow the lines of his shoulders. I become frustrated with
the material hindering my movement, and I grab the bunched up
cotton and tug it over his head.
As if on pure instinct, he
moves to help me, and his mouth is back on mine, in mine, before I
even have the chance to greedily take in his shirtless form. His
hands find my midriff, and just like in my dream, he palms my side,
his thumb teasing the sensitive skin of my stomach as it moves
slowly upward.
"Sam," I breathe into his
mouth, my libidinous voice breathy and unfamiliar.
But he stops, wrenching
his mouth from mine, and my eyes reluctantly open. He's staring
down at me, panting for breath, his heavy breathing mirroring my
own. I'm so lost in him that it takes me a moment to notice that
he's waiting for me. For some direction. I realize then that he
might have thought I'd said his name to stop him, or to tell him
something. But I'm quite sure that if he stops right now, I might
actually die.
"Touch me," I plead, and
his eyes fall closed.
My legs wrap around his
waist, desperate to increase the pressure where his body aligns
perfectly with my own, and he groans my favorite sound.
It's barely another split
second before his mouth is back on mine, his palm kneading my
breast over my bra, until pulls my shirt up over my head in one
fluid movement.
My hands find their way
into his hair, shorter now than the last time I'd touched it like
this, but long enough for me to get a good grasp on it
nonetheless.
Sam groans again when I
tug lightly, and I remember how much he likes this, too. And then
his mouth is gone from mine and he's pressing sweet kisses to my
jaw and down my neck. His tongue comes out and he laps at my
collarbone, and I throw my head back and moan when he makes his way
to the swell of my cleavage.
But he continues downward,
the soft-sandpaper stubble of his jaw brushing down my navel, and I
realize then where he's headed.
I sit up abruptly under
him and he lifts his head in question. I hold his jaw, wanting to
feel that same sensation against my palm, and I push my hand back
and forth and then up into his hair. His eyes close as he turns
into my touch before he's planting wet, hard kisses on the skin of
my palm.
I sigh shamelessly. I
never knew intimacy could be like this. Not before Sam.
"It's my turn," I whisper,
and I sit up further, pushing against his chest as I turn and roll,
and I watch his expression carefully for his
comprehension.
It comes the moment I have
him on his back. I watch his eyes widen with that same excitement
from just before, and I press my lips to that spot just below his
ear.
I swallow my nerves as I
drag my lips down his neck and muster all of my courage as I press
my hand to his impressive arousal, sheathed only by thin, black
cotton.
His breath hisses at his
sharp inhale, and the sound drives me onward. I take my time
tasting every inch of skin on his chest and abdomen, tracing the
lines of muscle and sinew. I keep my hand on him, and I savor every
flex and twitch as his body reacts to my attentions. I move to his
side, to a better angle, and hook my index fingers into the
waistband of his underwear, but his fingers lock around my wrist. I
look up at him, and I know what he wants. He wants to make sure
that I'm sure.
And it melts me even more.
There's something about
watching him from this vantage. Watching him watch me. There's
something submissive about my position, and I revel in it. All the
times I'd been forced to submit to Robin, I hadn't been given a
choice. Now, the choice is all mine. Not only would Sam never
pressure me to do anything I didn't want, but he gives me every
opportunity to back out, and in this moment, when I know most guys
would be only thinking about one singular thing, Sam is still
thinking about me. About what I want, and it makes me want to give this to him even
more.
I increase the pressure of
my hands, silently answering his unspoken question,
yes, I'm sure, and he
releases my wrist.
I strip him hastily, and I
swallow my gasp at seeing him naked again. It gets me every time.
The sheer size of him. The perfection of his entire form. He's so
incredibly turned on, and it's a heady feeling to have been the one
to do that to him. It's a wonder he ever even fit inside
me.
My body inexorably responds
to the sight of him, wanting desperately to have him as close as
possible—on me, in me.
I wrench my gaze from the
new focal point of the entire room, and peek up at him. The heat in
his glare nearly undoes me. It's as if just the attention of my
gaze on him is driving him deeper towards ecstasy, and it fuels me.
I wrap my fingers around him, and stroke him once.
Twice.
He groans again, falling
back onto his pillow and closing his eyes. I may be the one in the
submissive position, but he is at my complete mercy and I relish
every moment of it.
I slowly lean forward,
pressing a tentative kiss to the tip of him. That grabs his
attention and his eyes fly back open and he sits until he's leaning
back on his elbows. His stare is wide, and I'm certain he holds his
breath.
I swipe my tongue over
him, tracing every line and contour, until I'm licking him from
base to tip.
I pull back the slightest
bit, suddenly nervous. But my fears center around one concern—that
I may be no good at this.
"I… I don't know what I'm
doing," I breathe shakily.
Sam sits up, taking my face
in his hand, bringing his down so that we are eye to eye—on equal
footing.
"Anything you do, Ror,
will be the most amazing experience of my entire fucking life." His
voice is hoarse but his tone intent, and I don't doubt him for a
moment.
My tongue darts out to wet
my lips, and Sam's eyes close again, as if the sight is too much to
bear, and it emboldens me even more.
I don't lick him this
time, instead, I open my mouth wide and take him in
slowly.
Sam groans again, falling
back onto his elbows and watching me carefully, as if the sight is
just as erotic as the sensation. I think about seeing him between
my legs with his mouth on me, and I feel another rush of
heat.
He's too big to take in
all the way, but I take him in as far as I can, until I nearly gag,
and then suck hard as I pull back. I look between what I'm doing
and his face, and it tells me everything I need to know. I may not
be any good at this, but Sam seems to be enjoying it either way,
and I increase my pace, and eventually add my tongue with each
motion.
I listen to his breathing
grow faster and heavier, and feel my own desire grow to a fever
pitch.
Suddenly Sam is half
sitting up, his hand on my waist.
I look up at him, worried
I'd done something wrong. After all, it's only my first time doing
this and he wasn't exactly giving me any guidance.
"No, don't stop," he says quickly,
and I resume what I was doing, relieved. I hadn't wanted to stop at
all, I love having him in my mouth. I can feel the sensation
mirrored in other places, and it's an incredible
turn-on.
Then I feel his fingers
softly brush my hip, until he's pulling the waistline of my pants,
tugging my behind back towards him, but I do as he's said and don't
stop.
"Just bring that sweet
little ass over here," he murmurs.
Once he has me where he
wants me, he starts peeling down my yoga pants, sliding his fingers
into my panties as he pulls them down, torturously slowly, watching
me for any sign I might ask him to stop.
I may be crazy, but hell
if I'm that crazy.
I concentrate my wanton
mind on my enjoyment of the task in front of me, and take him even
deeper into the back of my throat, focusing on trying to control my
gag reflex.
I hear Sam's breath hitch,
and he stills for a moment, before he finishes undressing me in
double time. It's more than obvious I've no intention of asking him
to stop, and I even lift my ankles to help him get everything
off.
He places soft kisses on
my hip and my own breath catches. He's so close to where I want him
most.
God.
He pauses
again.
I don't.
"Fuck, Ror," he breathes
against my thigh. "I need to see if you taste as sweet as I
remember." His words are so low he may have been mumbling them to
himself.
His kisses grow hungrier
as they make their way up my thighs. The anticipation sends a
shiver of torturous excitement rolling through me, and I lose my
rhythm, but Sam doesn't seem to care.
And then his mouth is on
me, and I whimper around him.
"Fuuuuuck," he groans
against me, the vibrations only adding to the sensation of his
lips, his tongue.
I'm so caught up in the
sensations and sexy-as-hell sounds coming from behind, that I'm
only vaguely aware of the intimacy of our position. Of our mouths
on each other's most private places. How exposed and vulnerable I
am to him right now. There's something about it that makes this
whole thing even hotter. And it's surprising to me. With my
history. Vulnerability is usually something I avoid like the
plague.
But that's the power of
trust, I suppose. I trust Sam implicitly. And it's what's allowing
me to be so uninhibited right now, so free. I moan around him
again, and he pulls his mouth from me suddenly.
He falls from my mouth
when he sits up under me, and before I can even turn to ask him