by Marie Harte
He groaned, the restriction of his jeans making his erection painful.
Her massage had nearly had him spilling on the table. Though she’d sure as shit relaxed him, she’d also aroused him just by being near. It was something about her, a lingering scent, her touch, feeling the caring in every stroke. He couldn’t define it. But he hoped like hell other dudes on her table didn’t feel the same.
He frowned as he drove to a certain hotel Foley had recommended. He’d spent a terrific night there with Cyn, so Sam figured Ivy would like it. If fussy Cyn hadn’t complained, Ivy probably wouldn’t. Much as Sam liked Cyn, she seemed too high-class for him. Fancy clothes, a fancy house, money out the ass. The woman totally made more than Foley, but Foley couldn’t care less.
Sam cared. He didn’t want to be so outclassed on every level. Sure, Ivy was better than him. But he had little in the way of expenses. He could handle some evenings out, dinners, getting her little gifts. It wouldn’t be a lot, but he could take care of her. And judging by the size of her home and knowing her job, she couldn’t be making all that much.
A night out in a romantic hotel would make her feel good. And then he’d make her feel good. He put a hand over his cock to calm himself and took deep breaths.
By the time he arrived at the small boutique hotel, he’d relaxed, eager to put his plan in motion. Hours later, he finished cleaning up his room at home. Well, he’d figured out which clothes were dirty and which were clean, and he’d done a load of laundry. Then he’d borrowed another of Foley’s shirts, thinking he probably needed to get himself something nicer than a Bowie T-shirt if he planned on dating Ivy for any length of time.
He grinned at the thought. Imagine him and Ivy dating…like, for years. Imagine more…
He wanted that, so much that it hurt to think about. Because love and Sam didn’t go hand in hand. “Shit.” He hated the emotional crap. Hated going down the path that led to memories he didn’t want anymore. But he was helpless to stop them.
“Where’s my little man? Come here, baby.”
Sam peeked out from his room. When his mother used that voice, he knew it would be all right. No hitting, no cursing, and no men.
He thought about it, then grabbed his present for her. Now was the time to give her the macaroni necklace he’d made in school.
First graders did important stuff this year. His teacher had told him privately that his was the best she’d ever seen, and he’d been so proud. This would help him finally get Mommy to be nicer. He’d cleaned his room, not that he had that much to straighten up. She’d thrown away all his toys last week, when her last boyfriend had broken up with her.
Because of him.
Sam wanted today to mean something. It was special, maybe even her birthday. He wore his cleanest shirt, the one with only a tiny hole at the collar, and shorts because they were red—Mommy’s favorite color. He ignored the cold in the house, determined not to mess up again. Not today.
He walked into the living room, where she sat with a coffee cup. Not a glass of stinky booze. He hated that stuff, and she always had bottles of it everywhere. A sneaky glance around showed the living room tidied up, no sign of pills or needles anywhere.
She seemed a little jittery, but she had showered and dressed nice in a short skirt and tank top. A cigarette burned in an ashtray, but she looked only at him, not at anything else.
He gave a tentative smile and held his present in hand. He’d wrapped it himself at school in red tissue paper. “Happy birthday.”
She took the present with wide eyes. “For me?”
“I love you, Mommy.”
Tears glazed her eyes, and she slowly unwrapped it.
“It’s a necklace. For you to wear.”
She stared at the stringy thing of colorful macaroni interspaced with beads.
“I made it with a lot of red because that’s your favorite color. And you can wear it anytime you want.”
She slowly put it around her neck. “It’s not my birthday.”
“But it will be.” Or had been. He had no idea. “I wanted to make you something pretty because you’re the prettiest lady in the whole world.”
She held out her arms and he rushed in, getting the best hug he’d ever had. He knew it! She did love him. He never wanted to leave.
And then he made a mistake. “Someday, when I’m big, I’m going to marry you, Mommy. And we’ll laugh and eat ice cream and live on the beach.” Because his mother loved the water. “And you won’t cry anymore.” He stroked her hair, enamored with its softness. “And stinky Robbie will be all gone forever.”
Her on-again, off-again boyfriend. A man who hit her, made her scream, and did sex stuff behind closed doors—stuff she’d educated Sam about after he’d seen them the last time, when she’d made him hide in her closet so Robbie wouldn’t see him.
Robbie hated him. He brought the pills and the needles and made Mommy so different. Bad different, when she cried and screamed and laughed while Robbie did the awful things in her bedroom.
At mention of Robbie, she stiffened. Then she shoved him back, keeping a hold on his arms with a punishing grip. All traces of softness had vanished.
“What did you fuckin’ say?”
“N-nothing. I love y—”
“You little shit.” She ripped the necklace, the gift he’d spent a week making just right, from her neck. Pieces dropped to the floor and scattered. “You think this stupid crap makes everything all right?” She held what was left in her hand, shaking it in front of him. “You ruined everything!”
“No, Mommy. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
She slapped him across the face and shook him. “We were tight. He loved me. Then you opened your mouth and tattled. I know you did.”
He hadn’t meant to. But when the lady at school asked about the bruises on his arms and neck and the pain in his ribs, he’d accidentally mentioned Robbie. “N-no. I didn’t.”
“Liar.” She shrieked and shoved him away so hard he fell into the table and hurt his back.
Now crying, he tried to scoot away, but she advanced, swearing at him, blaming him for everything, like she always did. Why had he thought today might be different?
“You’re just like your father. That rapist piece of shit. Same eyes, same hair.”
He’d always thought he had her color hair.
“He took everything from me.” She started crying, and he felt ten times worse.
“No, Mommy. I love you. I’m sorry.” He sobbed.
“You had to ruin it for me with Robbie. Jealous and controlling. Just like him! You made all the others leave too. It’s always you, you little freak. Causing problems, needing so damn much. I hate you.” She’d slapped him a few more times, then stumbled back, and he saw. Her eyes were too dark, the way they were when she took the pills—the ones that sometimes made her tell the bad truths she never remembered later.
“No one could ever love you,” she whispered, staring through him. “Should have aborted you when I had the chance.”
She walked away and didn’t return for two days. But when she did, she’d cleaned him up, cooked him his favorite hot dogs, and sang to him while she drank her stinky booze. And then a new man had shown up…
Sam shook away the memory, the familiar litany of his being unlovable and ruining everything numbing, no longer painful. But it made him rethink tonight. Would Ivy consider tonight special? Did it need to be a big deal, or should they just fuck and enjoy it without all the worries of overdoing it?
He started overthinking it, he knew, and he cursed Louise and her fucked-up life for fucking up his. She’d made his childhood a living hell. She had issues, and God knew she’d earned them, but when they affected him now, after all this time, he truly hated her.
And then he hated himself, because a boy should never hate his own mother.
His res
emblance to his masochist old man made it worse for her, he knew. So why did she continue to insist they spend any time together? Why not cut him out of her life forever?
He finished folding his clothes and grabbed a beer, feeling a headache coming on. Fuck. He didn’t want this. Not tonight. Ivy shouldn’t be tainted with bad memories. No. He refused to let Louise in. No more. He had to stop letting her influence his decisions, his life.
Tonight with Ivy meant something to him. And it might mean something to Ivy too. She liked him. He knew she did. Man. He sure wished he had someone to talk to about all this.
He took his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it. Foley was hanging with Cyn and Johnny and Lara tonight. Some couples thing Sam wasn’t a part of. Well, he’d been invited, but he’d wanted to be with Ivy more than being a fifth wheel at a cutesy party. Sometimes watching Cyn and Foley make love eyes at each other annoyed the shit out of him.
But…Cyn loved Foley. And Foley loved her. It wasn’t a big deal to do something nice for a girl.
He nodded to himself. Screw Louise. This was for Ivy, and his mother didn’t belong.
Tonight mattered. And he’d make it good for the woman he couldn’t imagine being without.
* * *
Ivy had a bad case of nerves. Tonight, she and Sam would be together-together. What if she disappointed him? What if she froze up? What if he took a good long look at her and realized what a mistake he’d made?
She wished Cookie were there. She could pet him and love on him, and the puppy would lick her, make her laugh and forget her worries.
Telling herself to relax wasn’t helping, so she checked her schedule for the next day, confirming her appointments. A full day’s work would tire her out, but it would also pay the bills. So hurray.
A knock at her door caused her heart to race.
She glanced down at the knee-length, flared blue skirt and heels. She hadn’t worn skirts so much in years, but she wanted Sam to see her as pretty, and yoga pants wouldn’t cut it. So she’d worn thigh-high stockings, wanting some warmth and to feel sexy. Under her skirt, she wore her favorite white satin panties and a matching bra under a soft sweater. She felt girlie, sexy, and pretty.
A strong woman for a strong man.
Swallowing her nerves and reminding herself she’d aroused Sam without even trying earlier today, she opened the door.
He made her heart stop. So handsome, so big and rough, yet so gentle and vulnerable inside. She wanted to take care of him as much as she wanted to kiss and be with him.
“Man.” He whistled. “You look amazing.” He gave her a quick kiss, then stepped back.
“You too.” He did. His dark jeans and sweater only emphasized his build. And those sexy tattoos creeping up his neck invited Ivy to explore.
She cleared her throat. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I love surprises.”
He studied her, then broke out in a slow smile. “Good. I hope you’ll like this one.”
They drove for a while, and Ivy thought about the wonderful things Sam did for her without expecting much. How he cared for Willie and all those innocent animals he rescued.
She reached for his hand. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”
He shrugged away her praise, as he always did, and held her hand. “Nah. But if you want to think that, go ahead.”
“I will.” She lifted his palm for a kiss. “I’m glad I’m with you, Sam.”
“Me too.” He blew out a breath, and she wondered if he felt any kind of nerves about tonight.
“Did you get everything done you needed to?” she asked.
“Yeah. Did some laundry.”
“Wow.”
He grunted. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“But where did you put it when you were done? In the pile by the door or by your dresser?” she asked, all innocence.
“You know, you clean freaks are all the same. Picky about a little dust and all holier-than-thou. For your information, princess, I put my shit away. In drawers. Folded even.”
She blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Figured I needed to organize a little. A little,” he repeated. “Because you didn’t seem to want to be in my room all that much, and if I wanted you over, I figured I should straighten up.”
“You cleaned for me?” She gaped.
“So what?”
He seemed so defensive. This big man who could put a man down with one punch was uncomfortable when caught doing something nice.
“You are so getting lucky tonight.” She grinned at the surprised look he shot her.
“Yeah? What do I get if I clear some more stuff out?”
“I’ll have to take inventory and see.”
“How about some more private massage? I gotta say, you made me feel so good.” He paused. “But imagine how much better I could feel with some oil and a hand job?”
She knew she’d turned beet red because he started teasing her about it.
They spent the short journey in the car taunting each other about any- and everything. Until Sam pulled into the drive of a cute little cottage on the water.
“What’s this?”
“This is your surprise. Wait here.” He left the car, then opened the door for her. “After you.”
She got out and took his arm as he walked them to the front door. “Are we visiting friends of yours?”
He shook his head, took out a key, and opened the door. “After you.”
“You said that already.”
“Gimme a break. I’m trying to act like a gentleman.”
She entered the charming cottage and waited for him to join her. “I told you not to change on my account. I like you the way you are.”
“So I’m not a gentleman?”
“Really? This is a surprise to you?”
He gave her a grin. “I really like you, Ivy.”
Her heart fluttered. “I really like you too, Sam.” A whole lot. More than I should. More than you’d be comfortable knowing.
“Good. Now, for the surprise.” He showed her into the tiny living space, which had a love seat, fireplace, and a tray on the coffee table holding an ice bucket chilling wine and two glasses. Then he pointed out rose petals.
“What?” She stared, wide-eyed, and followed the trail into the bedroom. A king-size bed took up most of the space, along with an attached bathroom that had a Jacuzzi tub with more petals.
“Through there is a supersmall kitchen. This place centers around the bedroom.” He took her into his arms. “Surprise.”
“You did all this for me?” The cost of renting the place had to be astronomical.
A guarded look filled his eyes. “I wanted tonight to be special.”
She felt the burn of tears. “Sam, every time with you is special.”
He relaxed. “You like it?”
I love you. “Yes. It’s amazing. Like you.” She pulled him in and kissed him. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in years.”
“You deserve it, baby. You deserve nice all the time.” He kissed her back. “How about some snooty wine?”
She laughed. “Snooty, hmm?”
“Well, it’s not Boone’s Farm. I was going for that, but I was told to do better.”
“Oh? Who told you that?”
He sighed. “Cyn, if you have to know. Not that I couldn’t pick out something cool myself, but she’s a wine snob.”
“I’ll have to thank her later.”
He kissed her again. “Much later.” He held her close, and she felt his erection, plain as day. “I’ve been hard since this afternoon. It goes away, then I think about you touching me, about your mouth over my cock, what you taste like, and I get so full.” He put her hand over him. “Here.”
&
nbsp; She gave a squeeze, and he tensed. “I want you, Sam.”
“Oh, baby. I want you too. I’m just afraid I won’t last.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be good at this,” she confessed. “I keep thinking us together before was a fluke. It was too good. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He put his hands on her face and looked into her eyes. “Stop that shit right now. This, tonight, is for us. For you.”
“No, for us. I like that better.”
He stepped back and took off his sweater. “The wine can wait. I can’t.”
“Good. Me neither.” She stared. “You are so handsome. I still can’t understand why you’re settling for me sometimes.” She sighed. “I’m going to lick all those tattoos by the time we’re done tonight.”
“Done? I’m not gonna be done with you for a long time. Not tonight, tomorrow, or any day after that.” He took off his shoes and socks, then stripped out of his jeans, leaving him naked.
“Commando, Sam?” She couldn’t stop staring at that huge cock.
“I ache, Ivy. So much.” He held himself, and her mouth watered.
“My turn?” she asked, holding the bottom of her sweater.
“Shit, yeah. But go slow.” He moved to the bed and sat in the center, his back propped against the headboard. “I wish I had a camera.”
“No way. Never take pictures of anything you’re not comfortable sharing.” She lifted her sweater over her head, praying she looked as good to him as he always did to her.
Sam stared, taking in her satiny, white bra and soft belly. “Fuck me. I’ll be honest. The first time will be fast. But I swear I’ll make the next few times better.”
“Times? As in more than one?” she said, breathless, feeling aroused and needy under his stare. He made her feel good about herself in so many ways. But no doubt about it, knowing he wanted her triggered her desire faster than any physical touch could.