Chapter 16 #2
I start a rhythm, measured enough to feel every inch, fast enough that I can’t think.
He lets me lead, his hands firm but not directing, the quiet surrender that says more than any declaration.
Wind brushes the porch screen. I ride him, steady and hungry, and each time I lift and sink, the pleasure swells.
It’s sharp and molten, building in layers.
He shifts his hips a fraction, finding an angle that punches a cry out of me.
My head drops forward again, hair falling around our faces like a curtain, and he catches my jaw in his palm, guiding my mouth back to his.
The kiss is tangled and greedy and sweet.
I lose my cadence, but Sam reclaims it, thrusting up into me with a controlled power that makes every muscle in my thighs threaten mutiny.
“Don’t hold back for me,” I breathe against his mouth.
A raw noise meets my words. He plants his feet and drives, the new pace stealing my breath, electricity spiking through my belly.
I brace my hands on his shoulders, then slide one down to the firm line of his abdomen for leverage.
My body draws tight, that coil winding with intent, and I can’t help the sounds spilling out of me.
He seems to absorb them like he needs each one, like they feed something in him.
“Look at me,” he says roughly.
I do. His eyes are open and reeling, his control frayed, but the care in them is unwavering.
He brings one hand between our bodies, thumb finding me with a sure, gentle pressure that drives me into a delirium.
My body shudders and then continues to chase the pleasure.
The relentless slide of him and the way he says my name feels like it’s the only word he ever learned.
“That’s it.” His voice is wrecked. “Let go for me.”
The coil snaps. It’s not a clean detonation so much as a wave that takes my bones with it.
I clench around him and clutch at his shoulders and hear myself half sob, half praise.
He holds me through it, steady, mouth against my temple, thumb easing, easing, until the crest rolls me to aftershocks.
I’m barely aware I’m still moving, little after-movements I couldn’t stop if I tried.
“Sam,” I say, because I can’t not say his name now. “Sam.”
“I’m here.” He grinds up once, twice—his control finally blowing apart—and then his hand clamps on my hip, a low oath ripped from his chest as he goes rigid beneath me.
It’s agony through pleasure and it creates a smaller quake that makes me press my mouth to his shoulder and bite gently to anchor myself.
We fall still by degrees. My breathing stutters back to manageable and his heart thumps against my cheek. Neither of us move for a while, like any shift might break whatever spell we cast.
Eventually, I realize we are tangled up, half-dressed like teenagers, and laugh into his neck. “We’re going to get a charley horse if we don’t straighten out.”
“Worth it,” he says, voice lazy, and the smile within it is something I want to memorize for later. Sam strokes my spine with absentminded tenderness, while one hand still holds my hip possessively. “Are you okay?”
I lean back enough to see his face. There’s a crease between his brows that wasn’t there five minutes ago, the kind born of care, not doubt. I smooth it with my thumb. “Better than okay.”
“Good.” He exhales, relief softening all his edges. “Because that was…” He shakes his head, letting the end of that sentence go unsaid. He’s not a man who drops confessions lightly. If he says them, he means them. If he can’t say them, maybe tonight is that bridge he doesn’t want to burn crossing.
I kiss him slow, grateful. “You don’t have to narrate.”
He huffs a laugh, like he knows I’ve seen through him. “That would be a change.”
“Get used to it, author man.”
He groans at the nickname and wraps his arms around me, rolling us gently to the side.
Careful, always careful, he slips out of me with a soft apology against my hair that warms my chest. He deals with the condom quickly and efficiently, a trip to the trash can just off the porch, the soft snick of the lid.
When he returns, he pulls me against him, my leg thrown over his thigh, my skirt still bunched up around my waist, but I don’t even care.
We’re quiet as his fingers trace idle patterns along my upper arm.
“Penny?” he says eventually, so soft I almost miss it.
“Mm?”
“This wasn’t a hookup, you know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, drawing circles on his chest. “It was so much more.”
“How in the hell did this even happen to us?” he says, marveling at how fast things have changed.
“I think we were both in the right place at the right time in our lives.”
Sam’s quiet. “But… is this the right time? You’re visiting and my career just went nuclear.”
He makes a good point. Nothing in our lives is secure right now. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know that the right now is pretty damn good.”
“Truer words,” he murmurs, head back so I can see that almost-smile again. “I’m glad we agree on the important stuff.”
His hand slides to my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth in a way that makes everything inside me go quiet and certain.
He kisses me, not to start something new—though my body votes yes instantly—but as a seal on what just happened. A promise handed over in the dark.
“Stay tonight,” he murmurs.
I press closer, my smile against his skin. “Okay.”
His arms tighten, and as a testament to his strength and power, he effortlessly stands from the couch with me cradled in his grasp. I loop my arms around his neck and feather my lips over his jaw as he carries me inside.