Chapter Six #3
I unbutton his shirt one button at a time. He watches my fingers, then my face, then my mouth when I lean in and kiss the center of his chest. His breathing changes. I follow the line of ink toward his stomach and feel one of his hands shift against the mattress.
I glance up and ask whether he has a problem. "No problem," he says through his teeth, so I smile and keep going.
By the time I sink to my knees, the amusement is gone from his face entirely. Sam's head drops back for half a second when I free his dick from his pants, and when my mouth closes around him his hand grips the edge of the mattress hard enough that the tendons stand out along his wrist.
Usually Sam watches everything. The room. The door. Me. Tonight his eyes close when I take him deeper. Seeing him stop monitoring the world for a few seconds and let me decide what happens next goes straight through me.
I slow down on purpose and wrap my tongue around his tip. His breath leaves him in a rough sound, and one hand lifts before he catches himself. I sit back just far enough to make him look at me. "You can touch me. You just don't get to take over."
His palm slides into my hair. "I can work with that." He doesn't guide me. His hand stays heavy against the back of my head while I choose the pace, and every time instinct makes his fingers tighten, he loosens them again.
I don't let him finish that way. When his breathing gets too uneven and I feel his balls tighten, I stand and push him farther onto the bed. Sam leans up to reach for the zipper at my back, but I turn before he gets there and pull it down myself.
"You're cruel," he says, watching the dress drop to the floor.
"I think you'll survive." I climb onto the bed before he can turn that look into something he gets to direct.
Sam's hands find my thighs when I straddle him. I let him have that and the kiss he presses below my collarbone while I reach into the nightstand for a condom. He watches me tear it open and roll it onto him, his fingers tightening against my hips. Then I reach between us and guide him inside me.
His head drops back against the pillow. Mine nearly follows. For a moment I stay still because there is a difference between wanting control and being immune to what this man feels like underneath me.
Sam looks up, checking my face. "You good?" I brace one hand against his chest. "Very. Don't help." Then I move.
The first few strokes are slow enough that I can watch him try not to help. His hands tighten on my hips, but he doesn't lift me or change the rhythm. I roll my hips again, and the sound that leaves him is almost a laugh until I do it harder.
"Fuck, Autumn." His eyes flash when I tell him to stay exactly where he is. He does.
I find the angle I want and keep it, while I use my hand to make tight little circles on my clit.
I use his chest for leverage while Sam watches me come apart above him.
His hands move over my body, grip my hips, slide up my back.
He meets every movement I give him without stealing the rhythm from me, and I can feel the effort in every flex of his fingers.
It makes me reckless. I lean down and kiss him while I move faster, and Sam's mouth opens under mine. His hand slides up my back, holding me close without changing anything else.
The pressure builds until I stop caring who is in charge of breathing. My face drops into his shoulder, and Sam turns his mouth into my neck while I ride through the first sharp pull of release. His hands clamp around my hips, but he waits until I start moving again before he follows me.
A few strokes later his body goes tight beneath mine. My name comes out against my skin, rough and stripped of everything he normally keeps between himself and the world.
I stay on top of him until neither of us is breathing like a functional adult. Eventually his hands slide up my back and settle there. When I lift my head, he is watching me more quietly than he was a minute ago, his thumb moving once against my spine before going still.
When I ask what, Sam says, "You liked that," with enough satisfaction that I laugh. I tell him that is not an admission about him. He kisses the corner of my mouth and informs me he is taking the compliment anyway.
The smile leaves me when I trace my thumb over his lower lip. "Was it hard to let me take over?"
He knows what I mean. I can tell by the pause before he says, "Different." When I ask whether it was bad different, his hand moves slowly down my spine. "No. Just not something I do much."
I could ask why and turn the whole night toward an answer neither of us is ready to give. Instead I kiss him once and settle against his chest.
A minute later he reaches toward the nightstand. I catch his wrist before he gets there. "If that is you trying to get me water, I am going to be offended."
Sam looks at the glass, then at me. "You need water."
"I need you to lie here for sixty seconds without finding a task." I start counting under my breath. He makes it to eleven before he laughs and pulls me closer.
I stop counting. His arm comes around my waist, heavy and warm, and sometime after that I fall asleep with the tie I took off him still lying on the floor beside the bed.