A flood rushed to my core at the memory—Sam moving under my comforter, the twin points of my knees tenting the blankets over his head, the thunderous build of another peak. I pumped myself up and down.
He released my nipple with a pop and spoke with a hoarse voice. “Are you finally going to let me come?”
“Uh-huh,” I gasped.
His cock swelled inside me. How could he do that, grow impossibly bigger?
Fingernails dug into the fabric. I’d have fuzzies to dig out later. Totally worth it. From the way his biceps bulged, veins protruding from gripping the cushions, so would he.
He thrust his hips up to meet my downward push. “Fuck me, Mara.”
“Don’t you dare let go.” I didn’t, either, otherwise, I’d rake my fingernails down his chest, again.
My score marks turned me on more.
It started. The world closed in until it was just the two of us. The coarse hair on his legs tickled my ass each time I rolled over him.
I cried out, the force of our movements banging the couch against the wall. God, that angle felt good. I did it again. My orgasm slammed into me and I pulsed around Sam as he jerked, yelling out his own stream of obscenities as he came.
My only coherent thought was how I’d love to feel those hot jets release inside of me, coating my core like a balm to cool the fire we formed together.
I shook and gasped as aftershocks set in. With a sigh, I sank into him.
In the four times we’d had sex I’d learned this was my favorite part. No uncomfortable so what do we do now? Just postcoital relaxation.
I smiled even though he couldn’t see it. I’d had my way with him. Strung it out as long as possible before I had to face adulting for the day.
His arms wrapped around me, his head buried in my neck.
Teeth scraped my skin and I shivered.
“What are you doing?” He couldn’t be ready for more?
“I’m hungry.”
My eyes flew open. The last time he’d said that he’d landed between my legs again. Sam had a serious thing for oral sex.
“I can’t possibly…” I knew I could. Because Sam would get me off.
The arrogant tilt to his mouth sent tingles to my toes.
“I want you to stay right”—he lifted me off his cock and boosted me up so he could slide down to the floor—“here.”
He lowered me to my knees on the cushions, legs spread.
Sam had reclined against the couch and placed his head between my legs, his greedy gaze licking up my body to meet mine.
The sheer naughtiness of the position flamed any lingering desire that hadn’t yet dissipated. Would it ever around him? There’d be no choice. He’d leave and I’d have to face reality.
Real-life was waiting for me, but in my string of selfish moves, I wanted this. One more round of Sam carrying me away to a place where the dreaded hospital visits and doctors’ reports couldn’t reach.
He gripped my thighs and lowered me to his mouth.
This was totally happening! I flinched, my over-sensitized clit shocked at the swipe of his tongue. I bit my lip and forced myself to remain still. Orgasms from Sam were something from a different dimension. I’d have to call them Samgasms.
I hitched a breath in a giggle, but the scrape of his teeth overrode my squirms and put me in oh yeah territory.
His blue gaze pierced me, the intensity staggering. My eyes fluttered closed as a moan left me. My hands were back to clutching the back of the couch. I would never view this piece of furniture the same way again. It was promoted to the loveseat of ecstasy.
His hold tightened when I tried to rock my hips.
“What? Is this payback?” I lowered my gaze and found his full of intent. Yes. It was.
One of his hands loosened and skimmed along the curve of my ass. Another moan escaped. I was going to be hoarse before he finished with me.
His other hand clamped me to his face, while his roaming fingers circled my sex. I was still slick from minutes ago when I’d come all over him. He pushed two digits in. I wrenched the back of the couch.
His tongue lapping at me, and the instant fullness propelled me higher. Ride him, my brain screamed but his strength outmatched mine.
He pumped his fingers. I wailed, falling against the cushions, warm from when he’d rested against them.
No slow build. He attacked my clit, his tongue flicking, his teeth nipping. He wasn’t gentle with his hands. Tremors built and I tensed my sore abs. I excused myself from exercising for a week after a night with Sam.
My toes curled, I clawed at the fabric and bore down. Not even he was strong enough to keep me from rocking in time with his thrusts.
“Oh god, Sam!” When I cried his name during sex, it was like a power boost. He became ruthless.
Harder nips, more vigor. Nothing in the world mattered but his mouth on me, his hand driving me wild.
“Yes!” The couch rocked. “Yes!” My forehead almost hit the wall. “Yes!” A muscle pulled in my shoulder.
I crested the peak and shouted yes over and over again. Nearly choking on my tongue, I shoved at his head to get him to stop. My heart wouldn’t survive another round. Neither would my poor, old couch.
Freed, I collapsed to the side, facing the back of the couch and breathing heavily.
I looked over my shoulder when he moved. Smug. His expression was smug.
“I’m going to go clean up.” His voice was gruff, almost abrupt.
When he rose, his cock was hard once again, but he headed toward the bathroom.
I was in no condition to take care of his erection, but a thread of hurt wove through me. Maybe he knew better than to reuse a condom.
