In one smooth motion, he flips us, pressing me down into the sheets with his body, one hand catching my wrists and pinning them above my head.
The change in his energy is instant. That soft heat from earlier? Still there, but now it’s threaded with hunger, purpose, and something that makes my thighs clench in anticipation.
“You okay?” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes.”
“Good.” He kisses the curve of my jaw, then nips just below my ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this since the moment you fell asleep.”
His free hand slides down my side, slow and rough with intention. He drags the sheet away, exposing me inch by inch, until the cool air hits my skin and then his mouth follows, warm and open, pressing kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach.
He pauses at my hips, lifts his head just enough to meet my gaze.
“I’m gonna pin you here,” he says, voice dark velvet, “and take my sweet time.”
My breath catches because that’s not a promise. It’s a warning.
And I want every second.
He pushes my legs apart with his knee, spreading me wide for him, and settles between my thighs like he belongsthere. One hand keeps mine trapped above my head while the other cups the back of my thigh, angling me just how he wants.
Then he thrusts into me—deep, full, and slow—and I cry out, already trembling from how good it feels to have him inside me again.
His grip tightens on my wrists. “That’s it, darlin’. Take every inch.”
He sets a rhythm that’s slow but unrelenting. Each thrust measured, dragging every nerve along the edge of pleasure. My body arches under him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, but he keeps control of the pace perfectly.
“Sam,” I gasp, nails digging into the pillow beneath my trapped hands.
“Look at me.”
I do, and I see it. The way he’s watching every flicker of pleasure on my face. The way his control is razor thin, held together only by the need to make me fall apart first.
“God, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls, snapping his hips harder. “You always do.”
He shifts his angle and hits that spot that makes me see stars.
“There—” I gasp.
He grins, wild and wrecked. “Right there? Yeah, I got you.”
And he does.
He wrecks me slow and deep and dirty, until I’m begging through gritted teeth, thighs shaking, the orgasm building tight and fierce like a dam about to break.
When it crashes, it takes everything with it. My voice, my breath, my sanity. I scream his name, trembling violently beneath him as the pleasure rips through me.
He follows, groaning low and raw, thrusting deep one last time as he shudders and spills into me, every muscle locked tight.
We collapse into the mattress, breathless and tangled, his body still pressing me down, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s slow, tender, wrecked.
His hands finally release my wrists, but I don’t move.
I don’t want to.
I just lie there, under him, wrapped in the weight of him and everything we just shared, my heart racing and my soul quietly catching up.
“Still tired?” he murmurs against my lips.
