by Lea Griffith
She wouldn’t give in. He wanted the words. He’d have to give her everything he was first. She’d not give in on this.
She shook her head. Sam chuckled.
“One more then, Zoe. One more clench and release because of my tongue. I want to taste it, feel it on my face, smell it on my hands.”
He spread her this time, licking along her groin, down over her pussy lips, sucking on her clit and then using his tongue to impale her. It helped nothing that he used his thumb and forefinger as a vise, clamping it over her clit when she got too close to orgasm. And how long the torture went on she didn’t know.
Her ass was soaked with her lubrication and his saliva, her bottom moving freely over the leather now. He massaged her labia, bringing the lips together and then abruptly spreading them to blow on her tender flesh.
When she thought she could take no more, Sam licked all the way down her cleft, rimming her rosette with his tongue as he pinched her pearl once more.
Light, heat, pain and pleasure combined in a maelstrom and Zoe’s body gave up, bowing then sinking into the couch beneath her, muscles gone limp, mind just gone.
“Rest, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered at her ear.
Zoe felt him pick her up and rearrange her in his arms. But then blessed sleep rushed up to take her under and she knew no more.
* * * * *
Sam held Zoe and watched her sleep. He’d pushed her harder tonight than he’d ever pushed her. Punished her with pleasure until even he winced, his balls begging for mercy. She curled into his chest and he sat down roughly on the couch.
By god, she’d gotten rid of the other one. His mind flashed with images of her bound by his bamboo rope to the old couch, the white of the fibers bright against the dark leather. He’d bound her arms at the wrist, then pulled them over the back of that couch. He’d then pulled the rope under the couch, crisscrossed it over her body in an “X”, then wrapped it under once again before binding her legs to the support of it. She’d been beautiful, bound by his rope, hair falling in disarray around her face, her breasts and her hips.
Sam closed his eyes, let the memory flicker behind his lids and smiled. He had played her so hard that night, taking everything she’d been willing to give him, and she’d never denied him a thing. He fucked her so hard and so many times his cock had hurt by the end of the night. So many orgasms between them and she’d never cried mercy.
And she’d gotten rid of it. His muscles hardened in denial. She’d discarded the couch as if getting rid of what he’d done to her, what they’d shared.
Slowly he breathed away his panic. He’d damn well marked this one for her ass. She’d never forget what happened in this room, on this couch, no matter what happened between them. He hoped she never saw another leather sofa without thinking of his tongue inside her body, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her.
He let her rest for thirty minutes and then woke her slowly. She was groggy but as he shifted her, she moaned and started push at the blindfold.
“No. The blindfold stays, Zoe,” he said sternly.
Her shoulders drooped but she sat up straight and waited.
“Let’s go to the bathroom.”
He took her hand, helped her stand and then placed that hand on his waistband. She followed behind him, though she probably knew the way by heart. It wasn’t about what she knew, though.
He led her to the toilet. “Sit down and use the bathroom.” He turned on the tub and adjusted it to the warmth he wanted and she needed.
She did, though a blush rode high on her cheeks as she finished and flushed.
He grabbed her hand and guided her to the tub. “Get in the water and relax.”
Her jaw tensed and he wondered what ugly invectives she was tossing at him in her mind. He wanted to laugh but grunted instead. Zoe did as he instructed and he turned off the faucet, handing her a rag and a bar of soap.
He’d sent her some homemade rose soap from a vendor in Angola. He’d thought the soaps would be in the bathroom but he didn’t see them. His heart pounded and his fists clenched. It was almost as if she’d tried to forget him. The titanium chains and soft leather cuffs he’d had made for her had been stuffed in a drawer and covered by cosmetics. The couch he’d last taken her on was gone and in its place was a new one. Their pictures were gone…
Sam wouldn’t let the panic enter again. He took a deep breath and watched her wash herself, enjoying the way her body moved and the slide of water along her supple lines.
“I missed you.” His words came out of nowhere but he didn’t regret voicing them.
She stilled for a few seconds and began bathing again. What had he expected? He’d been gone a year.
But she’d been at Tiggy’s. The thought brought him a measure of relief. But only one word from her lips would ease the constriction around his chest.
She finished and sat quietly, waiting for his next command. He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew another deep breath.
He needed her like air, water, food. She’d kept him alive as an African warlord had sliced and diced him. No. He couldn’t have lost her.
He grabbed a towel from the closet. “Stand.” Sam dried her off slowly, watching her body for signs of fatigue.
“Are you hungry?”
She remained still, silent.
“You will answer my questions until I instruct otherwise. Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Yes who?”
Her lips thinned. “Yes Sir.”
Sam tapped her mouth once to let her know he’d seen her little display and then put her hand back on his waistband and led them to the dining area.
“Sit down.”
She obeyed.
Sam rounded up the food from the oven and put a portion of the lasagna on the single plate. He lit the candles and filched a bottle of ’94 Hogue Genesis Cabernet from the wine rack, pouring a single glass. Then Sam grabbed her up and set her in his lap at the table.
He took his time removing the blindfold. This particular activity was a great joy for Sam—feeding his woman from his plate, his fork, letting her drink from his glass. It was one of his favorite things besides being inside her pussy. Then again, everything paled in comparison to being inside Zoe.
“Keep your eyes downcast. I can’t handle you looking at me right now.” His voice was gruff.
The candles he’d lit cast a glow against her skin, making her seem like a flame all her own. The light dipped and swayed in her big blue eyes before she lowered them and he mourned his inability to control his cock whenever she looked at him.
“I ordered Rossi’s earlier.” He scooped a bite onto his fork and lifted it to her mouth. “Eat for me, Zoe.”
Her pale pink lips were full, reminding him of everything she’d done to his dick earlier. She parted and wrapped them around the fork. He pulled it out and she chewed slowly, another blush rising on her cheeks. Next he held the wineglass to her mouth but she pulled away.
He wondered at her refusal until a memory split him open. She smiled softly, still looking down, and he sipped first, carefully turning the glass around so she could sip from the exact same place.
She hummed in pleasure and his shaft rose between them, insistent. She loved his taste as much as he loved hers. The act they’d just shared had become non-negotiable in her eyes some time in the past. He’d forgotten, but then he’d been immersed in so many other tactile pleasures since he’d seen her on the dance floor earlier.
“I guess you think I owe you now, hmm, Zoe?” It was a challenge. A gantlet of sorts. A peace offering, most likely.
“There are no debts between us, Sir,” she said softly.
Sam didn’t respond. He knew the truth—he owed her more than he could ever repay.
He forked up bite after bite, taking none for himself, ensuring she was completely taken care of before he began eating. At one point he reached for her hand and placed it over his aching dick.
His breath hissed in and
he groaned but when she would have stroked him he stilled her hand. “Let me eat first, baby.”
There was silence in the kitchen as he ate. Once he was finished and the single glass of wine was polished off, he pushed the plate and glass far from the edge of the table and turned the chair around. She still sat on his lap and he turned her so she straddled him.
He couldn’t wait. In fact, he had waited long e-damn-nough. Sam raised his hips and shimmied his sweats off. Zoe stood on her tiptoes to give him room. Once he was naked from the waist down she settled on his thighs and the heat from her body forced a groan from him.
“Tell me what you want, Zoe. I need to hear it from your lips,” he said into the quiet buffeting them.
“I want so many things, Sir. Where do I start?”
“Look at me.” He grabbed her face in his hands.
She lifted her face and her gaze speared him. Like a shot of potent whiskey, the blue heat in her eyes warmed him.
“Tell me what you want, Zoe.”
“I want you, Sir.” She rubbed her cheek against his palm, nuzzling him.
Excitement built around them, the energy arcing between their bodies, lifting the tiny hairs on his arms.
“You want what part of me, Zoe?” Relentless. He had to know what he’d returned to.
“Your kiss. Your hands. Your body over mine, moving in and out, slowly, endlessly. I want your tongue in my mouth, your cock in my body and your soul in my hands. I want anything, Sam…everything.”
Chapter Six
One of his hands covered her breast and began kneading. Zoe moaned then, loud and long, the feel of his hands on her body a benediction after the past months. She’d had his mouth on her pussy and his dick in her mouth but the feel of his giant hands covering her flesh settled her. She grabbed his shoulders, moved her hands into the short ebony hair on his head as she leaned forward, offering him the other breast.
He’d asked her what she wanted. He damn well better give it to her.
He laughed, the sound so low it vibrated in the silence of the apartment. It quickened her pulse, poured fire into her womb, making her gasp at the almost-pain of her response. He hooked one of her legs around his waist and pushed his cock against her. She pushed back, needing to ride that roller coaster of release, needing his flesh against hers.
“You need to come, don’t you?” he asked as he bit lightly on her nipple.
“Yessss,” she hissed, circling her hips and trying to get closer.
He pulled away, chest heaving like a locomotive. His black eyes were fathomless pools of lust, his ruddy cheeks a testament to his control. She wanted him inside her right now. She reached for him, intent on her mission before he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, smacking her ass as he carried her to the bedroom.
That smack sent ecstasy shooting right where she needed him to be.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait.”
It took him two point two seconds to make it down the hall and they were the longest two damn seconds of her life. He tossed her on the bed and she immediately assumed third position.
“Not now. Right now is for you and me. You own me. What happens next is us together.” His voice was ocean-deep.
He stalked to the bed and Zoe stilled, gaze riveted on his shaft. Beautiful instrument that it was, long and thick with a plum-colored head that hinted at a bit of moisture. She reached for him, wanted him in her mouth but he backed away from her.
She whimpered and his black eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared.
Two could play that game. Yes, her need pressed on her, sat heavy in her chest and her womb but she was strong. She knew this man, knew what he liked.
Zoe reclined against the pillows and spread her legs, letting him see what he did to her. His face was cut from granite, muscles twitching under his skin.
He grabbed his dick, stroked from root to tip and back down. She licked her lips, his taste a phantom there. She plucked at a nipple, teasing it to a stiff point, loving how his gaze followed the movement. Zoe could look at his gorgeous body all day but one thing was missing, or rather wasn’t missing.
“Take off the shirt, Sam. Please.”
His face went hard. He shook his head as he came over her on the bed.
“Not yet,” he growled at her ear.
Some note in his voice had Zoe’s radar going crazy.
“I want to feel your skin,” she demanded.
His cock bobbed against her thigh and the muscles of his arms strained. Sam lowered his pelvis, pushing his cock through her folds, and it was bliss. She pushed back against him, hoping he’d take her.
But he hesitated. She glanced up and was impaled—not by his shaft but by his gaze. Pain, need, joy and promise were all there. Then he positioned himself at her entrance and entered her in one deep-seated thrust.
She cried out, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the room. Her body remembered the breadth and width of his. She was wet, had been wet for what felt like forever, the tension and need for him never abating. She’d carried him with her in every thought, every need, and every sigh.
He’d come home and he’d come to her. She held him as he shuddered above her. Unmoving, he took great billowing gasps of breath that fanned against her ear.
“Give me what I need, Zoe.”
She raised her legs, wrapped them around his waist and whispered the word she’d let him go with. “Yours.”
He stiffened, hard flesh moving inside her, flexing and pushing against the walls of her pussy, touching her womb to contract and harden even more. He rose on one arm and stared down at her, his face made of stone.
He wrapped his other hand around her neck, covering the collar, the message dominant and unable to be refuted.
“Mine,” he punctuated on a slow thrust that ended with his pelvis against hers, his shaft so far inside her she didn’t know where he began and she ended. He rotated his hips, driving forward, manipulating her clit with his pubis. Stars exploded in her head, her eyes closing against the unbearable tension that one word roused in her body.
He felt so big, so good, just…right. It was perfection. But that word, spoken in his gravelly baritone, got her there instantly. She bit into her lower lip, trying to contain the cry that wanted to break free. Heat built as he pulled out slowly, the head of his dick playing havoc with her internal flesh, stimulating nerve endings and sending lightning through her limbs.
It was a fast climb to the peak. She didn’t know if she’d survive it.
Her body had been made for his. Her cunt milked his cock, internal muscles dragging along his flesh, pulling groan after groan from him. She was liquid heat, her sex soft and willing, her body flexing under his and demanding everything he had.
He’d pushed into her without thought. It had been sheer instinct. She was open and wet—fuck, she was his and he’d availed himself of the offer her body had made. His dick had been made for her and she fit him like a glove. A very hot, wet glove.
Moisture gleamed on her brow, her blonde hair spread out beneath her, her white teeth visible as she bit on her succulent lower lip. He’d take his time with her later, do his best to let go of the control and let her play with him. She deserved that from him. But right now, with her body a heated brand on and around his, he couldn’t wait. The pain he’d suffered in Angola, the horror he’d witnessed and participated in needed to be purged. For this moment, inside her receptive body, he found peace. Sam found that piece of himself he’d thought destroyed by an African warlord.
Her breasts bounced as he pistoned his cock in and out of her sheath. He wanted to lick her from head to toe, to feel her skin quiver with need as he kissed and bit and sucked, but right now he needed her pulling everything out of him. All the broken pieces and splintered parts of his soul. Because only she could put them together again.
Her eyes closed and her breath came faster. A drop of his sweat fell to her breast and he pushed faster, harder and deeper into h
er body. He tried to mesh his flesh with hers so there was no separation. His hand clenched at her throat, not enough to hurt but enough to get his point across. The diamonds were hot beneath his palm, reflecting their shared heat, giving him absolution.
A tingling built at the base of his spine but before it could take root she put her leg down over one of his and flipped them. The move had been executed so perfectly he had no time to mourn the loss of her pussy before she crouched above him and impaled herself on his dick.
He grunted, she moaned and the clarity he had in that moment knew no bounds.
“Give me what I need, Sam,” she whispered against his lips.
He closed his eyes, opened them. She was still there waiting. He’d been made for her. The truth was simple, unavoidable.
Sam reached up and pulled at her hair. The blonde wig came away, revealing the perfect red of tresses that fell to her waist, covering her bouncing breasts and teasing his chest with their silkiness. That’s what he needed. His woman, not hidden and all over him. He wrapped the red strands around his fists and pulled her down.
The word was pulled from his soul. “Yours.”
She smiled an Eve’s smile and licked at his lips before she pulled back, staring down at him. “Mine.”
His heart clicked. His soul quieted. His body exploded. She owned him as she moved over him, she owned him completely. Her release was in time with his. She sobbed and then fell limply against his chest, her hair still wrapped in his hands, his cock still snuggled deep inside her.
She sighed and the breath that had notched in his chest when he left her last year released. He’d found peace inside her and as she relaxed completely against him he let go of the fear that had taken root while he’d been away. He let go of everything that could keep him from this, from her. Sleep crawled through his mind, making his eyes heavy. With her weight holding him down, her skin anchoring him to her, he slept.
Chapter Seven
“You were gone a long time, Sam,” she whispered into the quiet after they’d woken up. “Why?”