by Mary Calmes
"Stop... give in... I love you."
"No, you're just trying to—"
I felt his warm breath on my face a second before he kissed me. The wave of heat flooded me, and when his tongue pushed between my lips I opened for him. His mouth sealed over mine and I felt his hand slip around my throat to keep me there. The noises of pleasure that came out of him made my stomach flutter as he pushed in deeper, his tongue tangled with mine, tasting me, taking his time, devouring me.
It lasted so long, the heat, the need, just building... and I felt his hands on me, one tangled in my hair, the other sliding up under my shirt, now rubbing circles on my back. He would kiss me for hours if I let him. When I tried to pull back, he leaned with me until I put my hands on his chest and shoved hard.
"What?" he asked, his voice full of gravel, his eyes heavy-lidded and so, so dark. No way to miss how turned on he was—a study in lust.
"Drive me home."
"After that kiss... after the way you just responded... no.
No way."
"Sam, c'mon. I don't wanna make—"
"Just come home with me. I wanna talk to you."
"I know exactly what you wanna do," I assured him.
"Just c'mon. I promise to keep my hands off ya."
"You're so full of shit right now."
"Just right now?" He winked at me.
I leaned back in the seat.
"So?" He teased me.
"You're gonna do whatever you want anyway."
"This is true."
When I closed my eyes I felt his hand on my thigh. "You said you'd keep your hands off me."
"Yeah, I lied."
And I knew that, of course.
* * * *
His apartment looked exactly the same. I walked it, reacquainting myself with where everything was. The teacups I bought were still in the cabinet. It was funny.
"Weird, right?"
I looked around, then back at him. "Yeah," I said, looking at all the same framed pictures on the shelves next to the TV.
"Take your jacket off."
I threw it on the couch and continued my inspection.
"You want some water or something?"
"No, but I appreciate the concern for my sobriety."
He chuckled before he crossed the room and reached for me, cupping my face in his hands.
"What are we doing here, Sam?" I said softly. "It's too late."
"It's never too late." He smiled into my eyes, his fingers sliding over my jaw, my lips. "Can I kiss you before I put you in my bed?"
"What?" I pulled away from him but he moved with me, hands fisted in my shirt.
"I want you," and his voice was husky, filled with need.
"Well, you can't have me." I told him, and even to myself I sounded pitiful. There was no power behind my words. The promise was empty.
"Oh no?" he asked, his strong hands gentle as they slipped over my throat.
"No," I said again, making no attempt to move an inch away from him. "It's too late."
"Is it?" His voice was so low, I felt my chest heave just looking at him.
"Yes," I protested weakly, and I couldn't even imagine how lame I sounded.
"You're lying." He smiled slyly. "You're hard for me right now."
I lifted my chin to protest and his mouth came down and covered mine. I trembled in his arms because the kiss sent a charge straight to my groin. He burned me up, and I was reminded that the man really knew how to kiss me. No one before or since had been able to deliver a kiss that I could feel race through my entire body like liquid heat. It was annihilating, all that desire and passion directed at me; he was so big and strong, the force of him overwhelming as he crushed me in his arms and kissed me hard and deep. I wasn't passive; I tangled my hands in his hair as the sensations raced through my body. I ravaged his mouth.
When I thought my head was going to explode, I broke the kiss to take in some air.
"Jesus, you taste good," he panted, his forehead against mine.
I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him back away from me. He didn't budge.
"Baby," he breathed against my mouth, his hand under my chin, his thumb on my bottom lip, sliding over it. "Kiss me again."
And it was useless not to because I wanted to so badly. I burned for him, so I lifted my chin and his mouth was on mine, sucking, biting, kissing, claiming my lips. He swept his tongue inside my mouth and I hit the front door before I realized he'd been moving me backward into it.
"Better," he growled. "Now I've got you."
I shivered with just the sound of his voice as he kissed his way down my throat to my collarbone.
"Can't wait," his voice was so low, so full of need.
"Sam," I got out. "Maybe we should slow—"
He grabbed hold of my shirt and yanked it open. I heard the buttons as they bounced off the floor. His mouth was all over me, my chest, my nipples, down over my abdomen, biting, licking, and leaving a wet trail that made me shiver when the air hit it.
"God, baby, your skin," he groaned out, his hands on my belt buckle, fumbling with it fast, before moving to the snap of my jeans and my zipper.
"Sam... I...."
My jeans went down, my briefs following. His effect on me obvious, I moaned loudly as he knelt in front of me, hands on my hips, and took me inside his hot mouth, swallowing me down his throat. I was frozen to the door, my hands and fingers splayed behind me as the desire tore through me. I wouldn't last, couldn't last, too turned on from earlier, this now a continuation of foreplay he had begun in the street.
"Sam...." his name coming out as a whimper as I stared down at him.
He looked up at me, leaning back to smile, and it was wicked and dark. "Gonna make you scream my name. Make you mine all over again. Never gonna leave me ever."
Like he had to do anything to get that. I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted him. Instantly, I had gone back to where his touch was like air I needed to breathe.
He rose after long minutes, spun me around, and shoved me face-first up against the door. He kicked my legs apart and I heard the crinkling of foil behind me.
"The condom's got lube on it," he breathed into my ear, sending a shiver through me. He nibbled and licked his way behind my ear and then down the side of my neck. "Gotta have you, gotta show you you're still mine."
"Sam," I could barely think, let alone form words.
He pressed himself against me and sucked on my shoulder, hard. His skin was so hot. When he pushed himself inside me, filling me, I thought I would die.
I heard him catch his breath, felt his hand like a vise on my hip, the other around me.
"Baby," he growled into my shoulder before he bit me.
"You feel so good."
It went way past good. I was in heaven. His mouth was wet on my skin; his one hand stroking me sent waves of pleasure through me.
"So good," he rasped out. "Jesus, J, you're so tight and hot."
"Don't stop," I begged him and I felt his teeth on the back of my neck.
He drove into me over and over, as hard as he could, and I braced my hands on the door.
"Mine," he growled, his voice so sexy, so raw. "My baby."
I trembled under him. Just imagining him fully dressed, standing behind me, and me practically naked, the dominance and submission, only he had ever been able to make me do what he wanted. He could be rough with me, but he would never hurt me. He was made for me.
"I love the little noises you make when you're happy." He licked my shoulder, the side of my neck, tasting me, biting me, all the time thrusting so deep, his hands restless as they moved over my skin.
"Sam," I breathed.
"How do I feel, baby?" His voice was so low and sensual it shot right through me.
"I missed you," I answered breathlessly, trying so hard to think.
"'Cause you love me." His hand was on my stomach, pressing me back against him.
"No," I managed to get out.
"Yes,
" he insisted, clutching me tight, his fingers digging into my abdomen, feeling the muscles working.
"I'll always love you," I placated him.
"No, you love me. Not like over, like forever."
"No."
"Say it."
"No."
"Say you love me."
"No."
"Yes. Say my name and tell me."
"No."
"Yes."
"No. I won't go down this road with you again."
"You're already on it."
"The hell I am," I chuckled because it was ridiculous that we were having a conversation while he had me pinned up against his front door. Only he and I could ever be this stubborn. "It's just for tonight."
"Bullshit," he growled at me, sliding his hand over my ass.
"You're mine."
I struggled halfheartedly because I was ready to start screaming right then and there. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear him.
"Now, say my name and tell me."
But I was lost in my body's reaction to him, all my muscles tightening at once, clamping down... my head rolled back on his shoulder, my palms pressing against the door as I cried out.
"Jesus God," he roared, as my legs went out from under me.
The sizzling heat raced through me, but Sam held tight, clutching me to him as his body bucked and shuddered, so deep inside me that we were fused together.
"Christ... I could die from this," he whispered into my shoulder.
So could I. The mix of the pleasure and pain was excruciating and intoxicating at the same time. I never felt better than when I was with him.
"Jory... baby...."
I had to concentrate on staying vertical.
He let me go as my breathing evened out and then slowly, gently, turned me around to face him. Not that I could bring myself to look at him, since for all my protesting I had surrendered so quickly. I had no willpower at all.
"Jory...." he said before he tipped my chin up and kissed me, long and hard. I made whimpering noises in the back of my throat because I couldn't help it. He deepened the kiss until I thought my heart was going to burst.
"Say you love me, J, tell me the truth." His breath was warm on my face before he wrapped me in his arms, holding me tight to his pounding heart.
"Sam...."
"Say it," he ordered, running his fingers up and down my spine.
I looked up at him, bumping his chin with the top of my head. "You know I love you. Don't be stupid."
"And that's why Aaron got a no," he persisted, his hand slipping up the back of my neck, his fingers buried in my hair.
"That's why," I agreed, my voice ragged. I sounded drugged. "I need to—"
"Lie down?" He teased me, easing back to look down at my face.
"I—"
He chuckled. "Let's get your shoes off."
I watched as he knelt and pulled off my boots and socks, slid my jeans and briefs over my ankles, and then rose and grabbed me, throwing me over his shoulder. He carried me to his bedroom. I hit the cold sheets that he pulled back and he stood there, looking down at me as I hurried to cover myself with the blankets.
I watched him strip out of his clothes to slowly reveal the rippling muscles and big, hard body that I knew. The man was massive.
He smiled down at me wickedly. "You look good lying in my bed."
"It's only for tonight."
"Whatever you say." He smiled down at me before he lifted the covers and slid in beside me.
The heat in his eyes made me catch my breath.
"I'm keeping you. If you were smarter, you'd get that this is a done deal already."
My brows furrowed and he bent to kiss the bridge of my nose.
"You're so adorable."
I tried to push him off me but he was too strong, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue slipping deep into my mouth.
"Jory... baby," he sighed as he pulled back to look into my eyes. "I love you so."
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back down to me. And his weight on me felt like coming home.
"I know you're scared I'm gonna go away or something's gonna happen 'cause our track record is for shit, and I know you have no reason in the world to trust me, but you just...
you have to, is all. I can't be without you. I think about you all the time."
I just stared up into his beautiful eyes.
He shook his head, just barely, brows furrowing like he was dismissing something. "Knock it off. You love me, who're you kiddin'?"
"Sam, I—"
"You're not gonna love anybody but me, you know you're not."
"I'm not?"
"Fuck no."
He was so eloquent. I couldn't keep from smiling.
"I'll just tie you to the bed."
"That'll go over well with your superiors," I said, rolling over on my stomach, closing my eyes, my body getting heavy.
His hand slid down my spine and before I could slip away to sleep, his lips followed the same path, and then his teeth.
A moan rose up out of me.
"I missed all this gold skin."
I was so relaxed, so sated, so ready to sleep.
"You gonna stay here with me forever?"
I sighed deeply.
"Good," he said, his hand sliding over my ass before his mouth closed on my right cheek.
"Stop."
"Why?"
"'Cause you're gonna kill me."
He bit me hard, and it stung before he swirled his tongue over it, sucking and bathing it at the same time. He would leave a huge mark.
"Feel good?"
Of course it did. "No."
"Liar," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice before he rolled me onto my back.
"Sam," I gasped out as he slid his hands down my legs from ankle to thigh, holding me down, allowing only for the writhing but no escape.
"Baby, you're never gonna leave me."
I could only look at him with narrowed eyes as he leaned over to his nightstand and pulled another condom out of the top drawer. He used his teeth to rip the wrapper open.
"Maybe I'm not ready to go again."
He chuckled, and it was deep and husky. "You're always ready for me."
Which was true.
"Put your legs over my arms."
In his bed we moved slower, taking our time, and it was as gentle and loving as the first had been rough and mauling. I went from consciousness to sleep so seamlessly I didn't remember making the transition until my phone woke me in the middle of the night.
I heard it from inside a dream, and woke to the reality of it going off in the living room of Sam's apartment. With him plastered to my back, holding me tight even in sleep, it was hard to get untangled. After several minutes, I managed to get free of both him and the covers on the bed. I staggered around the rooms that were both familiar and alien at the same time and found my phone where I'd left it. My jeans hadn't moved; they were still crumpled up by the front door.
It was like a neon light pointing to my surrender.
"Crap," I grumbled before I answered, raking my hands through my hair, trying to wake up. "Hello?"
"Jory," Chris said. "It's Chris."
"I know." I yawned. "What's wrong?"
"Dylan."
"Dylan what?"
"She's in the bathroom and she won't come out. We need to go to the hospital—I think maybe she's in labor, but she won't.... Her mom and dad are here, my folks are here, her sister... I—she won't come out, and Jory, I need you now.
Right now!"
"Okay," I rubbed my eyes. "Okay. I'm coming. I'm coming.
Hold tight."
I was pulling on my boots, zipping up the first one, when the light came on. Sam shuffled over to the couch and leaned on it. He was naked, clearly not awake, and his hair was sticking up in tufts. He looked adorable, all sleep-tousled and bleary-eyed.
"What are you doing?"
"I gotta go."
"No," he whined. "You promised you'd stay here with me forever."
I chuckled, pulling on the second boot. "I never said any such thing."
The noise he made in return was half-whimper, half-moan.
"Sam," I said softly, standing up, pulling on my shirt, realizing it was useless since I could no longer button it.
"Shit. I need a sweater or a T-shirt or something."
"I need to get my gun," he grumbled, opening his eyes wide to try and wake up. "A bullet will slow you down some."
"Sam," I said as I walked past him back to his bedroom.
"Dylan's in labor, she needs me."
I was alone in the bedroom for several minutes before I heard him fumbling around behind me. When I turned to look at him, he had his underwear and jeans back on.
"What're you doing?"
"What?" he grunted, scowling at me.
"You're not going anywhere. Go back to bed."
"Tell me again who called."
"My friend Dylan, my partner—she's in labor and it sounds like maybe she's having a bit of a meltdown," I explained, continuing with rifling through the drawers in his armoire. "I need to get over there and help her poor sweet husband before he has a meltdown too and they're both scarred for life."
"Dylan called or her husband?"
"Her husband."
"Okay."
I found a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. I held it up. "Who's is this?"
"It's Jen's or Rachel's." He yawned, smiling slowly. "They were here a lot while I was gone."
I arched a brow for him.
"Not like that," he snapped at me. "Jen doesn't bring guys here anymore."
"That you know of."
"Screw you, J," he said with mock anger before he suddenly gave a snort of laughter. "Did you see the front of that shirt, baby?"
The word "Diva" was large and airbrushed on in pink metallic ink. But I would have to deal with it; there was nothing else in Sam Kage's closet that was going to work. He was six-four, I was five-nine, he was a mountain of hard, bulging muscle, I was small and lean, and none of his clothes were going to fit me. It was this or nothing, because my dress shirt no longer had buttons.
"Maybe next time you won't ruin my clothes," I complained.
"Sorry," he shrugged, but he obviously wasn't.
I yanked the tag off, turned it inside out, and pulled it on.
It clung to me but it covered me. "Okay," I said, raking my fingers through my hair a few times. "I gotta go. I'll call ya."