He doesn’t rush. Not this time. Sam’s gaze drags over me like he’s memorizing every inch all over again, and I can feel the weight of it settle into my bones. Admiration. Possession. And pure, feral hunger.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs,thumb brushing my bottom lip. “You say something like that and expect me not to lose my damn mind?”
I smile, slow and dangerous. “I was hoping you would.”
His chest rises, tight with restraint, as I shift beneath him, guiding his hand beneath the hem of the sweatshirt. He palms my breast, groaning low when he feels I’m not wearing a bra.
“You're unreal,” he says, voice wrecked. “You lay there like a goddess and just offer. And I’m supposed to stay calm?”
I slide my hands down his chest, nails teasing the lines of muscle beneath his shirt. “Who said anything about staying calm?”
I move and rise up, pulling the sweatshirt over my head in one fluid motion before laying on back on the bed.
His eyes darken instantly.
“Jesus, Charlie.”
I reach for his jeans, brushing over the bulge already straining beneath the denim. “This what you wanted?”
Breath hisses through his teeth. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Then what a way to go.” I smile, voice low and thick with need. “Now, I think those jeans need to go.”
Sam stands slowly, watching me with hooded eyes as he unbuttons his fly, dragging the denim down his legs in one smooth motion. His boxers follow, leaving him completely bare in the glow of firelight—thick, hard, and already leaking.
My mouth waters, and I don’t even try to hide it.
“Fuck, Sam,” I murmur, eyes locked on him. “Please let me taste you.”
He lets out a sound that’s deep and raw and steps in closer, his hand tangled in my hair as I lean in. My fingerswrap around him, slow and deliberate, my thumbs teasing over the velvet-soft head. I feel him twitch under my touch, feel the tension coil through his thighs.
But before I take him in, I glance up. “Tell me what you want.”
His voice comes out broken. “I want whatever you give me, darlin’. I’m yours.”
That sends a thrill straight through me.
Smiling, I take him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him, the weight, the way his breath stutters hard in his chest. His fingers flex in my hair, but he doesn’t guide. Doesn’t push. He just watches.
“Jesus,” he groans. “You look so fucking beautiful with that sassy mouth full of my cock.”
My eyes stay locked on his as I take him deeper, letting him slide across my tongue, hollowing my cheeks just enough to make his knees wobble.
“But,” he adds, breath hitching, “what I really want is to slide between those perfect tits and forget my own damn name.”
I let him fall from my mouth with a soft pop, licking my lips slowly. “Good answer.”
I lean back, settling onto the bed as he straddles me, and when I press my breasts together, he lets out a sound that’s downright filthy.
“Think we might need some lubrication,” he says, voice rough.
Without hesitation, his hand dips between my thighs, fingers gathering the wet heat already waiting there. He strokes himself once, coating his length, eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s so fucking hot,” I breathe, heat pulsing in every part of me.
“I know,” he says, his voice reverent now, like he can barely believe this is real.
He guides himself between my breasts, and I press them tighter, feeling every thick slide of him as he moves. He goes slow at first, then faster, the tip brushing my lips with every pass. My tongue flicks out each time, teasing him, catching the salty taste of him as he groans above me.
