Page 439 of A Matter of Time

When I was wriggling in his lap and shoving my crotch against his carved abdomen, little noises coming out of me he put his hands on my thighs to still me.

“Stop. I wanna talk to you more about Susan Reid.”

But I needed to connect with him, and there was only one way that I wanted to.

“Sam,” I breathed, my hands slipping over the waistband of his sweats, needing to peel them down. “Please.”

“No, listen…we need to⁠—”

“No.” I shook my head, and he did what I needed and lifted up so I could ease the sweats down off his hips, as well as the briefs underneath. “You, wanting me, loving me… That makes me so hot, you don’t even know.”

“Jory…baby…I…”

I curled my cold fingers around his hardening cock.

“God.” His voice was raw and deep. “I can’t even think.”

Which was what I was after.

I leaned over to the end table, opened the lid, and retrieved the bottle there. I would have to remember to collect all the lube that was stashed around the apartment before we had people over. You didn’t want someone searching for a pencil to keep score in Yahtzee to come up with a tube of lubricant instead. How would I explain that to Sam’s father?

“What are you giggling about?”

“I don’t giggle,” I assured him, still giggling. “Schoolgirls giggle, men laugh.”

He rolled his eyes at me, but not before he shoved his sweats down to his knees.

“Say something good,” I said, my voice hoarse and low. I didn’t even sound like me as I got the bottle open and slicked his cock.

“Come here.”

I sank over him, straddling his thighs, my legs folded up beside his hips. His hands felt so good on my suddenly hot skin.

“I want to have dinner with you every night unless either you or I have an emergency or something else, all right?”

“Okay.” I agreed as I began gently pressing down onto him.

“I like coming home to my home.”

“Me too.”

“It’s not home if you’re not in it.”

My eyes locked with his as he thrust up inside of me. I watched his pupils dilate as he filled me up, and my spinal column turned to mush as he stroked a hand over me.

“Baby, you feel so good.”

“You missed me.”

“Yes, but not just because of…this.”

His power of speech was leaving him with every second that I pushed down deeper.

“You… I…”

I smiled because I had reduced him to guttural muttering. I increased my rhythm, gentle replaced with jolting, quick motions, and his breath caught sharply.

“My sweet baby.”