I wiggle my thumb in his ass, and I’m rewarded with a spray of warm liquid down my throat. His whole body tenses, and I press my face as far down on his groin as I can, pushing him against the floor.
Trapped between me and my thumb inside him, Sam abandons his hold on the rug to grip my head. His legs widen even more, and he rides my face as his orgasm rips through him.
When his thrusts slow, I keep sucking, wringing every last drop out of him. Only when he collapses back on the floor with a contented sigh do I release him.
His skin is flushed, and his chest rises and falls rapidly as he comes back down from the high.
I’ve never been one for holding or cuddling after, but right now, the only thing I want to do is pull Sam against me and never let go of him.
Eight
Sam
I’m nervous about this first dinner with Dalton’s family, but I think I might be more nervous about spending any more time alone with Dalton. Things got out of hand once we were alone in the bedroom. I’d only meant to give him a blow job to help him relax some. I didn’t know he’d want to return it. Or that I’d lose my fucking mind the minute he put his mouth on me.
Even now at the dinner table, we’re not sitting close enough to touch, but I swear I can feel the heat coming from his body. It doesn’t help that I’m wearing one of his sweaters so I’m wrapped in his scent.
It’s been a while since I’ve had anything physical with a guy, but I’d mostly pushed all thoughts of that stuff to the back of my mind so I could have focus on what mattered more. Now that Dalton’s touched me, it’s like I can’t think about anything other than when I can have his hands on me again.
Across the table, Sophia’s trying to get her son, Joey, to eat with his fork instead of his hands. Grady’s picking peas off the table that their daughter, Kelly, threw. I like the patience they have with their kids. I remember Dad hitting me once because Nathan spilled a glass of milk.
“Sam?” Ronnie’s voice cuts through my memory, and I glance up from my plate to find her and the others watching me. I’m guessing it’s not the first time she called out to me.
“I’m sorry, what was your question?”
“What do you do for a living?” Ronnie asks, spearing some asparagus with her fork. “Dalton didn’t exactly tell us a ton about you.”
“I work as a waiter at a restaurant in Haversham.” I don’t really care much for lying to them, but it’s the right decision. Dalton needs to bring home someone impressive. Or at least someone who doesn’t take his clothes off for money.
The guy at the other end of the table stops eating to watch me, but I do my best not to pay him any attention. Dalton had introduced him as his friend, Arnie, but I got the feeling Dalton simply tolerates him.
“Do you have any plans to go to school?” Levi asks.
“Um, maybe. But that’s a long way into the future. Probably not until Nathan graduates from college.”
“Nathan?” Levi asks.
“My brother. He’s eighteen, but he took two years of college courses while he was in his junior and senior year of high school. He’ll graduate this spring.”
“Are you his guardian?” Levi asks. “That why you’re waiting on him?”
“Yeah.” Not technically a legal guardian because Nathan and I just fled five years ago. “I have to get my GED first before I can even think about college.”
Dalton shifts beside me, and I start to worry that maybe I’m fucking up. How important is school to these people? Does it take automatic points away from me because I don’t even have a GED?
Though, when Levi speaks, he doesn’t sound upset. “How long have you two been on your own?”
“Five years.” I don’t mind saying it. Nathan’s finally eighteen; the state can’t step in and take him away.
“So you were, what, sixteen when you started taking care of him?”
“Yes. Our mom died when I was eight. Nathan barely remembers her. Dad started drinking a lot and . . . it just wasn’t safe anymore. So I took Nathan, and we left.”
I can tell they’re impressed I took care of Nathan when I was still a kid myself, but I don’t really see it that way. It was just what needed to be done. There was no way I was going to leave Nathan alone with Dad.
Underneath the table, Dalton puts a hand on my thigh. For a second, I’m afraid it’s a warning to tell me to stop talking, but it’s comforting. His thumb rubs a soothing circle along my outer thigh, the same way my fingers massaged his shoulder in the bedroom earlier.
“Do you have a picture of him?” Ronnie asks, pulling my attention back to her.
