Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Naomi
W e get take-out from a self-pronounced “chicken shack” and eat it on the porch, followed by the first episode of Firefly, watched on his tiny TV from an actual DVD.
“So great, right?” he asks with complete sincerity once the credits roll.
“Yeah. So great.”
Sam narrows his eyes at me. “Are you just saying that?”
“No. It was really fun.”
“It seemed like you were making fun of it, and that kind of thing isn’t allowed in this house.”
I grin at him. “I wasn’t making fun of the show, I was making fun of your DVD collection. What are you going to do when season two comes out? Buy it on DVD also?”
“There was no season two. It got canceled after season one.”
“That cinematic masterpiece? What for?”
He shakes his head solemnly. “No one knows. ”
When he leads me out to the newly finished bedroom, we christen the bed with orgasm after orgasm—most of them mine.
“I feel like a teenager when I’m around you, princess. It’s like I can’t get enough.”
I laugh up at him from where I lay naked on the white sheets. “Your dick never gets, you know, sore?”
His forehead creases as he cocks his head. “Are you sore?”
“A little.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a bad thing. I kind of like it. I can feel you even when you’re not inside me.”
His gaze drops to the tip of his cock, still bouncing at half-mast inches from my spread legs. Then his gaze shifts to me. Sliding back a few inches, Sam settles himself on his elbows, stretched out long with his legs hanging off the bed, and proceeds to kiss every inch of me, from clit to rosebud. He kisses around my entrance especially slowly, making sure every inch of my skin is graced with his healing touch.
“Okay, you kissed it all better. I’m ready to go again,” I say, only half joking.
His head pops up from between my legs and he’s grinning. “That’s not why I did it.”
I shrug. “Happy side effect, I guess.”
When he shifts back to his knees, I can see his stiff erection. “Looks like it worked its magic on you as well.”
“I’ve never seen this guy so eager.”
I push up to my knees and meet his lips with mine, tasting myself. Sam sits back as I press lightly on his chest until I’m on top, straddling his hips. I stroke my wet, still slightly sore, pussy up and down his length.
I’m about to angle my hips and let his tip slip inside me but I change my mind. Gripping his base firmly in my fist, I slide down until I can trace the head of his cock with my tongue. Sam must have seen it coming, but he still hisses as I make contact. The sound brings a smile to my lips as I open and slide him in.
“I dream about this, princess,” Sam moans as I take him deep, sucking and swirling.
His tip makes a little pop as I slide him out, working his shaft with my hand. “Not my other parts, huh?”
“Oh, I dream about those too.”
“Sounds like you’re being kept up at night with all these wet dreams.”
“I’ve never slept better in my life than I do when you’re next to me.”
I could respond that the same is true for me, because it is, but we’ve already gone deeper into this territory today than I ever thought I’d tread. Instead, I take him deep fast, shutting us both up.
Sam squirms under me as I pump him through my lips. I can feel him holding back moving his own hips.
“You can help, you know. If you want to,” I say, sliding him out.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I grin and trace the tip of his cock with my tongue. “You’re not going to hurt me, Sammy. Especially not with me on top like this. Why don’t you try?”
I don’t give him time to answer before sucking him back into my mouth. He slowly relaxes his grip on the bed, and I stifle a grin as I feel one of those hands snake into my hair. Holding me as gently as he can while fisting my long curls, he starts to move his hips.
Cheeks hollowed, I brace for his thrusts.
They start off slow and easy, and I move against them, creating the perfect push and pull. Sam alternates between gasps and holding his breath. When I look up, eyes starting to water from the force of him, I find his gaze locked on my face.
I grin and his eyes roll back for a brief moment before he locks gazes with me once more.
“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I murmur my agreement, because I am feeling awfully sexy right now, and the vibration must set something off in Sam because his thrusts get deeper, harder. I firm up my tongue on the underside of his shaft and just brace, letting him explore his own pleasure.
Just when his ever-growing moans have me thinking I’m about to swallow, he pulls up sharply on my hair and pops out of my mouth.
I pant for a short, surprised moment, mouth hanging open, before I gather myself enough to speak. “I thought you were going to come.”
Sam releases my hair and throws both of his arms overhead on the bed. “I was. But I don’t want to do it like that.” He reaches down and grips my upper arms, pulling my body forward until my core is hovering above his cock.
When he takes me by the hips and pulls down, driving himself into me, we both gasp.
“I only want to come in here. Ever.”
I can’t argue with that, rocking my hips against his increasingly frantic upward thrusts. Reaching down, I press one finger over my clit as I ride him, and it’s not long before my breathing matches his erratic pace.
We come together in a rush of breath and light and holding on just long enough to get the other person through. It’s chaotic and messy and for a moment I can’t tell which of us is making which noises.
Sam stills before I do, holding my hips as I grind myself against his pelvic bone, chasing the last of the feeling. When I finally come out the other side, I hang my head and bow my shoulders, drooping over him. He pushes my hair out of my face and pulls my lips down to meet his. I collapse beside him, inside the embrace of his strong arms, and open for his tongue as it traces mine.
“We got the clean sheets all dirty,” I say when he pulls away.
“That’s what they’re for,” he responds softly with a sleepy smile.
I don’t answer but he hears me, climbing up and fetching a pair of small towels from the main house and handing me one. We clean ourselves up as much as we can before wordlessly tangling our limbs once more, creating a braid of our bodies in the tousled sheets.