“You called the washing machine a motherfucking douchebag.”
“It is a douchebag. It’s been stuck on the cold cycle for days—fuck, that’s not the point. Just let me talk, okay? Or I’ll never say it, and I’ll carry on being as annoying as I’ve been for the last few days.”
“You’re not annoying.”
“Liar.”
Sam started to smile but caught himself and pursed his lips, trepidation creeping into his wide gaze. “I’m listening.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
His eyebrows shot up as if I’d stuck a Taser between his ribs. “What?”
“I want you to fuck me.” Repeating it was as surreal as saying it the first time. “Like, really fuck me, on top, you know? I’ve never wanted to do it again since the first time, but I want it so much with you, I can’t think about anything else.”
“I—” Sam shook his head slightly. Banged it on my shoulder. “Wow. Damn. I’m sorry, it’s just. Fuck. That was the last thing on earth I expected you to say. I thought you were about to drop something awful on me.”
Of course he did. And I couldn’t blame him for that, but I was too hot for him to get bogged down in self-loathing. That shit could wait, perhaps long enough for it to go away on its own. Right now, I had room in my soul only for Sam.
I found his hands and squeezed them. “Sorry if I’ve blindsided you with this. We don’t have to, like, actually do it. I just needed you to know before I set myself on fire with it.”
“Interesting image.” Sam kissed my knuckles. “How long have you felt like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“It didn’t come together until I was with Meera this afternoon. Before then it was just a feeling I couldn’t describe.”
His gaze grew heated enough to quicken my pulse. “Can you describe it now?”
“Uh.” I licked my lips. “Can I show you instead?”
In answer, Sam pushed off the counter and shouldered past me, gesturing for me to follow. He led us to the bedroom and spun to face me. “Micah, you can show me anything you want, and when you’re done, do you know what I’m going to do?”
I swallowed thickly and shook my head.
Sam stepped closer, his lips inches from mine. “I’m gonna fuck you till you beg me to stop.”
* * *
Sam
Dirty talk still freaked Micah out, but I couldn’t help the filth on my tongue. I’d always been a horny bastard, but the chemistry between us was something else. He wanted me to fuck him, and only an apocalypse was going to stop me.
Or Micah. Whatever happened, I was still listening. Always.
I ran my hands up his bare arms. I needed him naked, but despite a desire for him so deep my eyeballs were pulsing in time with my heart, I knew we couldn’t rush this. That one wrong move could scare him off. Reason told me that other days would come, but there was nothing reasonable about the way my body ached for Micah, so I moved slowly, with gentle hands, and undressed him with the reverence he deserved.
When he was bare to me, he lay back on the bed, sharp eyes tracking my every move—and the condoms and lube I retrieved from the bedside drawer. I put them within easy reach and focussed on him. The curtains were drawn, casting shadows over his glorious body. I kissed my way from his lips, to his chest, to his belly, and his dick, then I took him in my mouth and swallowed him down, revelling in his startled gasp. His legs fell open and his hips canted.
He buried his hands in my hair. “Fuck,Sam.”
My name on his lips kicked my pulse up a gear. For long minutes, I ground his cock against the back of my throat, recalling every second I’d had him inside me. Every thrust and drive. Every wave of mind-blowing pleasure. It was a ride like nothing else, perhaps the only precious minutes I’d ever truly been free of all else. I wanted that for him. I wanted him to feel nothing but how beautiful he was and how much I fucking loved him.
Slowly, I reached for the lube, still working him with my mouth. In my head we had a sensible conversation about how far he’d gone with this before, but my heart didn’t want to know if anyone else had ever slid careful, slick fingers inside him. This moment was mine. It wasours.
I released Micah’s dick from my mouth, gripped his good leg, and eased it aside. He rose up on his elbows, watching. The apprehension in his gaze was hard to miss. I tried for a smile. He bit his lip and sucked in a shaky breath. “Do it,” he whispered. “I trust you.”
