“Oh, Sunshine,” Sam hissed, slipping his fingers into my mouth. I tasted myself on him, and I wanted to be revolted but I was too fucking turned on to care. His eyes darkened as I sucked, his groan hoarse and exactly as desperate as I felt. “I am going to own you tonight.”
He pushed me against the refrigerator and freed me from my leggings and panties. Ducking under my dress, his tongue swirled over my clit and it only took a few well-placed licks to prime my body for explosion.
And once again, he stopped a minute too soon. Wailing, I beat my fists against the refrigerator. This was torture, and he knew it.
“Saaaaaaammm,” I moaned.
He offered a knowing grin and placed feathery kisses on my thighs and pelvic bone and just barely between my legs. “Do not doubt that I’ll gag you.”
“I’ll finish this myself,” I said, but the threat sounded whiny and petulant.
He chuckled, his warm breath tickling my leg, and he continued teasing. He didn’t believe me.
Unable to see past the screeching urge for release ringing through my body, I bunched my dress at my waist and brought my hand to my center. I’d barely grazed my clit when Sam’s hand curled around my wrist and pinned it to my side.
“Don’t you dare,” he said. He stood, leaning into me while I squirmed, angling for his hard length where I needed it. “I’llmake you come. Only me, and only when I’m ready.”
“You’re such a dick,” I yelled, burrowing into his shoulder.
“And you love it.” He dragged his scruffy chin across my chest, inflaming my nerves and drawing out a shiver that didn’t seem to stop. “How long should I make you wait?”
I shook my head, whimpering, “No more.”
“Should I fuck you right here?” Sam asked. He lifted my hands above my head and speared his hips against me, and the impact sent vibrations rippling through my body. “Or against the counter? Your ass looked fucking edible bent over like that.”
He traced the line of my arm, over my breast and belly, and brushed my folds. It was a delicate touch, like he was stroking something incomprehensibly fragile, and desire sparked in my veins until I was trembling.
It was an agonizing, throbbing need, but Sam didn’t stop. His body trapped me there, his chest flush with mine, his grip tight on my wrists, and I could feel the drumbeat of his heart pounding in time with mine. He whispered filthy things about how much he loved touching me and teasing me, and how he wanted my arousal dripping all over his wrist, and that my pussy belonged to him.
I hated hearing those words—my ladybits were my own, thank you—but I craved them, too. It was primal and animalistic, and if my hands were free, I would have closed my fist around his cock and said the exact same thing.
I took tremendous pride in belonging only to myself, but right now, with my body heaving in spectacularly painful need, I wanted to be Sam’s. He could claim my pussy, my orgasms, my everything.
“Do I need to restrain you?” he asked, and even the scrape of his teeth on my earlobe was too much stimulation.
“Sam,” I rasped. “Please.”
He released me, but I didn’t have long to miss the weight of his body. He led me into the bedroom, yanking the rest of my clothes off in the process. His were quick to follow, and then he was over me, his palm splayed between my breasts, pressing hard.
He pushed into me, slow and deliberate, and he kept me anchored in place while he stroked all the way in, his hips snug against mine, and then all the way out. I didn’t think it was possible for him to torture me any more than he had, but this—thiswas the most licentious torture imaginable.
Eventually, he shifted his hand down my body until the heel of his palm rested over my mound. When I edged up to meet his thrusts, that pressure sent hot, crackling snaps of electricity through me.
“Oh, fuck, Sam,” I cried, my shoulders digging into the mattress for more leverage.
“You want to come for me, sweetheart?” he asked, as if I’d been holding out on him. I made some hysterical, mewling sound and he smiled, nodding. His jaw locked, his strokes deepening, slamming into me as I arched my back.
I knew the minute he came because his face always took on the same expression of serene suffering, and he’d groan my name, low and gravelly, like a secret prayer. I let myself believe that moment belonged to me, that his body couldn’t possibly react that way to anyone else.
Just as I was pulled under by that warm, soothing orgasm, he ground his palm against me, and that wave morphed into a fucking tsunami. Every muscle twitched and sighed, the spasms rolling through me as if they’d never stop, and tears streamed down my face.
I’d never cried during sex before, and I wasn’t sure why I was crying now. Sam folded me into his arms, and his fingers tangled in my hair while my quiet tears fell. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. He held me, inviting me to be vulnerable and raw without judgment. And that was when I knew, when I heard it.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
