by Kylie Scott
“Well, I do.”
“Shh, relax.” Hands stroked the outside of my thighs, placing my legs gently over his big shoulders. And all the while, he stared at my vagina like he was transfixed or something. “You’re so beautiful, Martha. Every part of you. I want you to feel cherished.”
Huh. “Thank you.”
He kissed the inside of my thigh. Yet went no closer.
“Can you take a photo with your cell later and cherish that instead?”
“What a lovely idea. I’ll do that too.”
I groaned. “Sam…”
With a quick grin, he dipped his head and licked up my center. Christ. My back bowed, eyelids fluttering closed. I’d already been wet when he started touching me. Now I was drenched. Fingers dug into my flesh, holding my legs apart for him to feed. Because the man ate me like he was starving. There could be no other description. Some guys just gave you a lick or two then moved on to the fucking segment of the evening as if they’d ticked the good guy head box and had earned their reward. But not so with Sam. He licked and stroked and generally drove me out of my mind. If his whole upper body wound up covered in my juices, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
The man obviously loved going down on a woman.
Well, this woman, at least.
His tongue dragged, dug, circled, and swirled over and around the pertinent parts of my anatomy. As if he needed to learn me inside and out for some later test. Without a doubt, he’d have passed with flying colors. The first orgasm hit me hard and had me shaking from top to toe. The second swept through me like a wave of ecstasy. Forget massages for total body and muscle relaxation. Unless they were massages done by Sam’s tongue to my pussy. Sign me up for one of those suckers any day.
“And you’re especially beautiful,” he said with a smile, wiping off his face with a hand, “right after you’ve come.”
I lay on the bench, still twitching, watching as he took off his shirt and shorts. Such a sight to see. The rock-hard length of his cock pointed straight at the ceiling. And I wanted it, I really did. But there was just one small problem. “I’m not sure I can move.”
“Let me help.” He lifted me off the bench so carefully, wrapping my legs around him seemed only polite. “Is the wall all right with you? The bench is the wrong height and the flooring’s a bit rough in here. Wouldn’t want you to get carpet burn on your soft skin.”
“The wall is fine.”
“Excellent.”
With my spine pressed to the cool flat surface, he reached between us, positioning the broad, blunt head of his cock at my entrance. There was less wriggling this time on account of me being so wet. In he pushed, slowly lowering me onto him. God, the feeling of fullness, the stretch of him inside me. Twenty-four hours was far too long to go without. I pressed my lips against his, kissing him deep and hungry. No need for messing around. No worrying about if he wanted me plastered all sweaty against his skin.
Sam knew me and wanted me. How much was honestly a little scary.
Hips flexing, he fucked himself into me time and again. Each measured perfect thrust stealing my breath and blowing my mind. His fingers tightened on my ass, digging in to hold me in place. The man steadily nailed me to the damn wall. Only he kept subtly, slightly shifting his position, searching for something. I didn’t realize what until he hit something inside my pussy that made my whole body clench.
“There we go,” he said.
“Christ. That’s why they call them drill sergeants, huh?”
“Don’t be silly.” He grinned. “That’s the army, love. I’m navy.”
Then he set about fucking me into oblivion. Over and over, he hit that one perfect place, sending me higher with each stroke. I clung to him, struggling for breath, body and heart turned inside out. As for my mind, it was total mush. Faster and harder, he fucked me against the wall, hammering my g-spot. Not stopping until I came again, shouting out a name. Someone’s name. Let’s not get into it. It didn’t matter. His hips ground against me, burying his dick deep as he came with a grunt. Yes. For all his honeyed words and carrying on, he’d come grunting at me. Pure romance.
This was why people shouldn’t get carried away with emotions etcetera. Even if the sex happened to be insanely good. Hormones can make you do stupid things like yelling out names of people you should probably only be friends with. Like, fuck buddies at best. Because once you start getting carried away, things get complicated. When you’re all wound up and feeling a million things including horribly exposed.
“You shouted my name,” he said almost wonderingly. The idiot.
“Should I have shouted someone else’s?” And while my lungs and heart might have been scrambling to catch up, my body was rigid, unyielding. “Put me down.”
Prudently, yet tenderly, he did so. “Martha, what are you thinking about?”
“Why do you always ask me that after sex?” I snapped, gathering up my clothing. “It’s unnecessary. The whole point of sex is not to think.”
For a moment, there was silence.
“What?” I snapped again.
“Is this about you saying my name?”
“No.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s about intimacy in general, then?”
I cringed. “Seriously?”
God knows where my panties had gone. Doubtless the completely wrong person would find them tomorrow and I’d be in for another round of humiliation. I pulled on the shorts then got busy collecting the shoes and socks. I could walk back to my room barefoot. It wasn’t like it’d matter.
Meanwhile, he just stood there bare-ass naked, arms crossed, watching me.
“What?” I asked, getting down on my hands and knees to try and find the fucking underwear. Shit. They’d disappeared. And he’d been totally right about the rough flooring. My back or hands and knees would have been shredded. Of course his being right and caring about me only made things worse. “Are you going to get dressed? And why are you giving me that look?”
“What look am I giving you exactly?”
“Blank face, but pissed-off eyes. It’s the one you use when you’re angry, but pretending as if you’re trying to hide it.”
“Well, Martha,” he said, pausing to pick up his shorts and pull them on, “I was giving you that particular look because we just had great sex, and before I can even catch my breath, you’re suddenly being a raging bitch. What I’m wondering is, why?”
“Why you’re bothering with me or why I’m being a bitch?” I asked, rising back to my feet. “Because I have a well-known reputation for being a bitch so I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. As for the other, there’s a very simple answer. We can just stop. We’ve had a few good fucks. Might as well end it while we’re ahead, right?”
He just blinked.
“What? What is it now?”
“Are you honestly that afraid of feeling something for me?”
I set my jaw, but it didn’t help. Neither did staring at the stupid floor.
“C’mon,” he said, voice softer. “Look at me.”
Surly as shit, I did so. God knows why.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
My shoulders slumped. “I can’t find my panties.”
He exhaled and looked around, inspecting the room. Next he crossed over to a collection of dumbbells and hooked my black thong with his index finger. Trust him to find them immediately. I held out my hand to take them, but he drew me in close.
“What else is wrong?” he asked.
And the words were there, but actually speaking them…
Arms wrapped around me, holding me carefully. Like I was delicate and might break. Like I had cracks in me already. “You can tell me, love. It’s okay.”
My throat tightened, eyes hurting. “The last time I was doing stupid things like yelling people’s names out during sex and getting all overemotional, everything went wrong. I made it go wrong.”
“You
and Dave?”
I nodded, cheek pressed against his chest.
“That was a long time ago,” he said. “I think you’re a bit wiser now, don’t you?”
“No.”
He rubbed my back, kissing the top of my head. God, he was so good at this stuff and I was so not. My arms clung to him. “Martha, no matter whose fault it was, I know you got hurt last time. And I can tell you for a fact that I’m not going to hurt you. That is not going to happen. But only you can decide if I’m worth the risk.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either.” I hated the thought. He was such a good man. And this was all getting so complicated so quickly.
“Then don’t,” he said. “It’s that simple.”
I sniffled, taking a deep breath. “Honestly, Sam. It’s barely been twenty-four hours. How could things possibly get this difficult in such a short amount of time? It’s crazy.”
Without a word, he picked me up, sitting me on his lap on the bench. “Not really. I think we’ve been dancing around each other for a long time. By the time we finally got together, it was bound to be…well...”
“I guess so.”
“A bit more complicated then you intended, hmm?”
“You could say that.”
“Do you really want to just stop?”
“No.” I leaned my head against his shoulder, getting comfortable. Not hiding. Something other than that.
“All right then.”
“All right then,” I mimicked in a deep voice. “You’re so full of shit, pretending to go along with everything. ‘You’re in charge, Martha.’ ‘Whatever you say, Martha.’”
“I’m your servant in all things, love,” he said, the smile obvious in his voice. “I just try to help you along occasionally is all.”
“Yeah, right.” I sighed. “I’m not just using you for sex. I don’t know what it is, but…anyway.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear you can admit it. Even if you are describing us as but anyway.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
He just laughed. Bastard.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You cannot be serious.”
Sam smirked, keeping his gaze on the road. And looking very handsome in blue jeans, a gray T-shirt, and his black leather jacket. Though in all fairness, he made most things look hot. Despite my best efforts, I’d come to realize it was just a me and him state of being. The effect the man had on me had sadly, steadily escalated over the last few days of sleeping together. (Out in the pool house, not in my room. Gibby loved surprising me with an early wake-up and no child needed to see that much skin so soon in life.) You’d think us fucking like rabbits would have calmed things down, satiated the hunger, so to speak. But no. The desire for Sam was like a constant hum beneath my skin, a warmth spreading through my body at the mere thought of him or the sound of his name. Just as bad as some sappy love song. All in all, very disturbing. And yet…
“Lizzy, no,” I said, turning in the passenger seat to give her a glare.
“Martha, yes.” She flipped her hair, checking her makeup in a compact. Then she rested her arm on the empty kid’s car seat at her side. “This is happening. I mean, I told you, we’re going out for drinks. Isn’t that what I said, Sam?”
“That is indeed exactly what you said, Mrs. Nicholson,” he dutifully answered.
I gasped. “Don’t you dare take her side.”
“Sorry, love.”
“You two are so cute together.” Liz grinned. “Have I mentioned that? Because you are, you’re absolutely adorable.”
“Shut up,” I grouched.
The woman in the back seat just happy-sighed. “Anyhoo, as I was saying. It’s too late to back out now. I’ve told them you’re coming. You don’t want to look like you’re scared of them or something, do you? Big bad Martha afraid of having drinks with the wives.”
“Why, you little…”
The executive protection officer chuckled all amused-like. Until he caught me glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry. That just slipped out.”
“You seem to be spending a lot of time in this relationship apologizing, Sam,” Lizzy said. “Is that going to wind up being a problem somewhere down the track?”
He licked his fine lips. “I’ve made peace with it, Mrs. Nicholson. After all, every relationship has its compromises.”
“Fair enough.”
“I hate you both.” I stared out at the passing lights of inner city Portland. Furious yet resigned. Mostly furious. Resigned was just the side dish and boy, did it taste bitter.
“So much negative emotion,” Liz tutted. “It’s not good for you, Martha.”
“What isn’t good for me is being lied to and manipulated. You know full well the last fucking thing I’d ever want to do is to go for drinks there.”
“Which is why I feel it’s time for like…a healing, you know?” She nodded all sage-like. “Just get all of the bad history out and deal with it. I think after tonight, you’re going to feel much better about things. Don’t you think so, Sam?”
He winced. “I’d prefer not to express an opinion on this particular occasion if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
At times such as this, it would have been nice to speak more than one language. Because swearing in English didn’t quite cover it. My sister-in-law deserved to have her ass handed to her in at least three or four different cultures.
The luxury SUV pulled up to the curb and he took in the passing flow of pedestrians and traffic. Night or day, the Pearl District was a popular destination with all its bars and shops.
“Here we are,” said Sam, calm and cool as can be. As per usual. “Let me get the doors.”
But I opened my own car door and Liz did likewise. “We’re fine, Sam. Relax.”
A line had embedded itself between his brows when we met him on the sidewalk. But he got to open the door to the building for us after inputting a security code. That seemed to make him happier.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said in a low voice as I walked past. “That dress is…let’s just say that keeping my mind on work might be a little more difficult than usual.”
I smiled. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.”
At the elevators, we stood in silence. It was a nice apartment building. Very expensive looking with an Art Deco front and white marble entry. Top of the line security system, no doubt. About what you’d expect, given David and Mal both resided there. In the lift, Sam slipped his hand into mine, giving my damp fingers a light squeeze. So I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. Given tonight would probably feature quite high on my top ten list of hellish situations to be thrown into, I appreciated him not telling me everything would be fine.
“Have you been to David and Ev’s place before?” asked Liz.
My face just fell. “You’re shitting me. We’re not even going to your sister’s?”
“Oh, stop worrying, would you?”
Sam’s forehead crinkled up with worry lines, his gaze moving between us.
“It’s fine,” I forced out between gritted teeth. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
His smile wasn’t particularly convincing either. “That’s my girl.”
The hallway ended with a door at either end. Something in my stomach curled in dread as the whole feeling of walking to my doom escalated. No. It would be fine. Show no fear and all that.
Ev answered the door with a big smile, blond hair bouncing along with her tits. Christ, the girl was bouncy. David really had gone from night to day with his choices in women when he replaced me with her. Not that we hadn’t been broken for years yaddah yaddah. But he had been my first boyfriend. My first everything. I felt entitled to an opinion.
“Liz, Sam, Martha,” she said, her smile only appearing slightly strained at the end. “Welcome, come on in. Lena and Anne are already here.”
Sam nodded. “Mrs. Ferris.”
The fl
oors were wooden and painted a shiny black, the walls a crisp white. It made for a cool contrast. Dark wood dining table with a huge white leather couch and olive throw cushions. Nice. On a low coffee table, imported beer and a couple of wine bottles sat in buckets of ice.
“Help yourself,” said Ev, plonking her ass down on the couch. “You’re not going to hide out in the kitchen for once, Sam? That’s very brave of you.”
“You’re not worried you’ll get estrogen poisoning, are you?” asked Jimmy’s wife, Lena. Dark hair, glasses, pretty. Though they were all pretty, to be fair. She had on a bright red T-shirt, ripped black jeans, and a pair of studded Louboutin booties I would kill to own.
“I’m willing to risk it if you don’t mind me hanging around.” Sam smiled, taking up sentry duty in the corner. Probably because he was worried about me opening my big mouth and saying the wrong thing. Or maybe he was just worried about me in general.
“Just don’t report back to the menfolk and we’ll be fine.”
Sam snorted. “No fear of that.”
“He barely tolerates the boys,” said Ev. “We’re his real favorites. Right, Sam?”
“You have seen straight through my carefully curated façade, Mrs. Ferris.”
“Welcome back to town, Martha.” Anne sat with a bottle of water in hand. We’d only crossed paths a time or two, but Lizzy’s sister and Mal’s wife seemed the exact opposite of his own loud and painfully in-your-face personality. The woman came across as quiet, thoughtful, bookish, things like that. So distinctly different to her slightly evil sister as well.
“Thank you.” I nodded stiffly, perched on the very end of the sofa. “Nice to be back.”
“I hear Gibby is loving having you there.”
“God, he is,” said Lizzy, shoving a glass of wine at me and mouthing the word “relax.”
I just gave her a dirty look. “Aunty Martha is even more popular than the Super Puppies right now.”
“Please don’t mention those fucking dogs.” Lena sighed. “The girls want the show on around the clock. It’s driving us insane.”
“Shall I sing you the special super puppy friend’s amazing song?” Lizzy opened her mouth in a clear and present threat.