by Amelia Stone
She shook her head, and my heart sank. But she smiled as she raised herself onto her tiptoes, whispering in my ear. “I rented a room here for the night.”
I looked down at her, watching as her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. Without a second thought, I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor.
“Where’s the fire, Sammy?” my sister asked as I breezed past her and Brian, towing Jamy behind me.
“I love you both,” I said, pulling them into quick, one-armed hugs. “Happy marriage, congratulations, enjoy Fiji, yadda yadda yadda.”
They both laughed as I tugged Jamy’s hand, barely paying attention as she made hasty apologies to our friends and family. I really did not give a fuck what this looked like. I had exactly one thought in my head: my woman wanted makeup sex.
And as I’ve already established, I would do anything to make her happy.
“Oh, God. It’s too big. It’s not going to fit.”
This would normally be the point in the story where I’d primly admonish you to get your mind out of the gutter. But in this case, I was talking about exactly what your dirty mind thinks I was talking about.
Sam was standing in front of me as I sat on the bed. My words had caused him to freeze halfway through the act of undressing himself. His jacket had been tossed on the chair in the corner, his unbuttoned shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, and his pants were pooled around his ankles. He still had his boxers on, but his erection strained against the black cotton, the dark pink tip peeking out of the waistband. He frowned down at me, and his hand moved southward as he stroked himself almost absently over the fabric.
“I know it’s been a while,” he said slowly, raising one dark red eyebrow. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll still fit.”
I shook my head shyly. “Won’t fit where I want you to put it,” I mumbled.
And then I remembered where I wanted him to put it.
Oh, God.
His brow furrowed thoughtfully. “It’ll still fit in your mouth, too.” But he sounded almost like he was trying to lead me, to goad me into saying what was really on my mind.
I blushed, looking down at my hands. This was definitely the most awkward conversation I’d ever had – which for me, was really saying something. Of course, it would be a lot easier if I could just tell him what I wanted.
Then again, if I’d actually possessed the ability to say what I wanted, we never would have gotten to the point where we even needed makeup sex. Sam and I had gotten back together mere hours before, after several weeks spent apart. The separation was mostly due to me and my issues, if I’m being honest. Chief among those issues – right now at least – was my tendency to put everyone else first. Even now, when I’d decided to be selfish for once and demand something I’d always wanted, but had been too scared to ask for, I clammed up. I just could not freaking say what I wanted, even on an average day.
And today was not an average day. Not by a long shot.
I took a deep breath. “I want…” But I trailed off, my nerves stealing my voice. I needed to just say it, needed to tell him what I wanted. But how to say it? How could I convey exactly what I wanted?
Come on, Jamy, I chided myself. How hard can this be? And then my inner Michael Scott screamed that’s what she said!
I shook my head, clearing my throat. “Sam, I want, uh…” I hitched a breath as I looked up at him. He was just so sexy, so completely, intimidatingly perfect to me. I snuck a glance at his hand, still slowly stroking his shaft through his boxers. The motion seemed almost subconscious, like he did it automatically. I watched his hand make the trip up, then back down again, roaming all along his considerable length.
Yeah, that was definitely not going to fit where I wanted it to go.
“Tell me,” he commanded, and I shivered. God, I’d missed him. I’d missed this. Normally, Sam was the kindest person I knew, always so supportive and loyal. But here, when it was just the two of us, he grew demanding and authoritative. Sam dominated me in the bedroom, body, mind, and heart.
And I fucking loved it.
He stepped out of his pants, kicking them aside impatiently and stalking toward me, until he was standing between my knees. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed on either side of me. Then he kissed me softly, the slightest brush of his full lips against mine. But his eyes when he pulled away were hot and intense.
“Tell me what you want, Jamy,” he demanded, his voice low and urgent.
Do it, I urged myself. Just say it.
“I want…” I gulped. Nope, couldn’t do it. This was too momentous an occasion. We were about to have sex for the first time in weeks, and I planned to give him something I’d never given him – never given anyone – before. How on earth could I possibly form a coherent sentence right at that moment?
“You know,” I finished lamely, sounding desperate to my own ears.
He raised an eyebrow, smirking like he could read my mind. “I know?” he repeated.
Oh yeah, he was onto me. He probably knew exactly what I was trying – and failing – to say.
I whimpered softly. “You know,” I insisted, my cheeks burning. “That,” I added on a whisper.
He chuckled, kind of evilly, if you ask me. “Nope. Not good enough this time.”
I scowled at him, annoyed now. But whether it was with him or myself, I couldn’t say.
Myself. Definitely my own damn self.
“Sam. Come on. You know what I want.”
He grinned. “I think I do, yeah. But I need to hear you say it.”
Yeah, he was just torturing me now, the jerk.
I huffed. Clearly this conversation was going nowhere. We needed to just get on with it already.
“Will you just help me get undressed, please?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
He stepped back. “Gladly,” he said, his tone gracious and accommodating. But his smile was still devious. “Just don’t think you’re getting out of this,” he added.
I harrumphed as I removed my earrings. “You’re evil,” I grumbled, reaching behind myself to unclasp my necklace. “I guess it’s true, gingers really don’t have souls.” I laid the jewelry on the bedside table to the soundtrack of his laugh, then stood, turning my back to him. “Help, please.”
“Anything for you, my love,” he murmured, his warm breath washing over me. I shivered once again as the rough pads of his fingers brushed across my neck, undoing the button there. “I will do anything you ask of me,” he added, subtly emphasizing the word ‘ask.’
I tried to come up with a snappy comeback, but I was distracted as his fingers moved lower, slowly undoing my buttons one by one. He pressed his lips to my neck, making his way across my shoulders, and I swayed, moaning softly. His hand gripped my hip, squeezing roughly to steady me.
“I’ve got you,” he rumbled as he held tight, making sure I wouldn’t fall over on the spot. Then he continued with the buttons.
About halfway through them, he stopped, grunting like he was confused. I felt him pinch the thick lycra fabric under my dress. “What the fuck is this?”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I turned to face him, pulling my sleeves down over my shoulders and trying to wriggle my arms out of my partially-open dress. “Um, my Spanx?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?” His brow knitted over his narrowed eyes. “And what the fuck is a Spanx?” he continued, before I could even answer his first question.
I frowned, not sure why he was upset. “It’s shapewear.”
He grunted. “Shapewear?” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my hips. “You already have a shape. A damn sexy one. What exactly do you need shapewear for?”
“It smooths out all the lumps and bumps,” I replied, though I didn’t sound entirely convinced. “It makes the dress look better.”
He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he gripped my shoulder and turned me around. He went back to the buttons, though his movements felt jerkier now.
“What’s wrong?” I felt like I’d ruined the mood, and I really didn’t want that.
“What’s wrong?” he echoed. “What’s wrong is that you are the most beautiful woman I know, and you don’t fucking believe it.”
I inhaled sharply. “Sam, come on. Tell me what’s really wrong.”
“I am,” he shot back, as he finally finished with the last button. He spun me around, pulling me to him and kissing me fiercely, all teeth and tongue. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, his eyes closed, like he was calming himself. When he opened them, they were so dark with desire that they were almost black.
“I gave myself a fucking blister on my left hand while we were apart, from jerking off so often. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Your lips,” he said, capturing them once again, gently this time. “Your skin,” he murmured, planting soft, sensuous kisses all across my jaw, moving down to my throat. “Your hair.” He began pulling pins from my elegant up-do, causing my long locks to tumble down my back. “Your body,” he continued, his voice now rough and throaty, thickened with lust. “I especially missed your body, Jamy.”
My eyes fluttered closed, and I let out a dreamy sigh as his lips moved to my pulse point. His five o’clock shadow felt unfamiliar on my skin, since I was so used to his recently departed beard. I shivered as it scraped against my skin. His tongue darted out, flicking the soft skin behind my ear, and my knees buckled. “I missed your…” I groaned as his hands moved to my breasts, squeezing roughly. “Your everything,” I whispered.
I could feel him grinning against my neck. “I missed your everything, too.” He pushed my dress down, the lace slithering over my hypersensitive flesh.
“Sam,” I pleaded as the gown fell to the floor, puddling at my feet. An urgent need had overtaken me, and I just had to take care of it.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what you need, my love.”
My head fell back as his hands pushed my bra cups down, rolling my nipples between his rough fingers. I gripped his shoulders hard, digging my nails into the warm muscles there.
“I need…” I groaned, unable to form the words. His hands on me felt too good, stealing my very thoughts from my head.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his deep voice rumbling in my ear.
I swayed slightly, pressing my thighs together. “I need to pee,” I finally whimpered.
He froze, and I cringed. God, I’d really blown it this time. But I’d had a glass of champagne, and a Malibu and Coke, and countless glasses of water tonight. My throat had been parched from making my speech, not to mention the stress of being on display for a hundred of Hannah and Brian’s closest friends and family all freaking day. Besides, my therapist had drilled into me the idea that hydration was an important tool in maintaining good mental and physical health, especially on a day like today.
And yeah, the loud complaint I just got from my bladder told me I definitely should not have mentally totaled all the drinks I’d had since the last time I’d been to the bathroom.
Sam stepped back slowly, staring at me with a carefully blank expression. “You need to pee,” he repeated.
I bit my lip, nodding fervently. I mean, I was one hundred percent down for sexy times. I just needed a quick visit to the restroom first.
“I need your help getting these off,” I explained, gesturing to the bodysuit currently imprisoning my body from the top of my ribcage all the way down to my knees.
He shook his head kind of dazedly, but I distinctly heard him chuckle softly. “Okay,” he finally relented. “Turn around again and bend over.”
I did as he said, bracing my arms on the bed. He hummed softly, running his hands along my lycra-clad rear.
“When we get you out of this thing, I’m spanking this ass, just to watch it jiggle,” he growled. He leaned over me, nipping my earlobe. “Because for the record, I fucking love all the lumps and bumps.”
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply to keep from literally swooning. I may not have had a ton of self-confidence, but with Sam, it hardly mattered. He did his best to make me feel like a goddess every single time we were together.
“Just please get it off me soon,” I whimpered, gritting my teeth. “I’m not really into the whole golden showers thing.”
“Well, at least somebody knows that’s gross.” He laughed under his breath, tugging at the elastic band that sat right under my bra strap. It slid down easily, and I sighed in relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Until we got to my waist, that is. He continued the same sliding motion, but the garment wouldn’t budge.
“Is this thing made of fucking Teflon?” he grumbled, tugging a little harder.
I chuckled darkly. “It’s some space-age shit. No one really knows what it’s made of.”
“The tears of virgin unicorns, no doubt,” he muttered, pulling even harder, until he was yanking, really. My whole body was jostled with the movement. I could hear him breathing heavily, and I was about to tell him to stop when he suddenly pulled too hard. My body jerked backward, my arms went flying, and I felt my elbow connect with something that was somehow both hard and soft at the same time.
“Motherfucker!” Sam’s shout came from somewhere in the vicinity of said elbow, and my eyes slammed shut, my whole body locking up. I waited a minute, but he said nothing.
“Please tell me that what I think just happened did not actually happen,” I whispered.
“I’m fine,” came his muffled reply. Which was so not reassuring. Anytime someone tells you they’re fine, they’re lying through their lying liar teeth.
I turned slowly, not really wanting to face the music. Because sure enough, when I finally got a good look at Sam, his big, freckled hand was covering his right eye and cheek. His other eye was streaming, pinched shut with obvious pain.
Oh my fucking God.
A strangled cry escaped my throat, and I stepped forward, raising a tentative hand. “I did not just give you a black eye,” I groaned. “Again.”
“You did,” he mumbled. He turned to me, one green eye roaming my face for a minute. But then he chuckled. His gaze flicked to the rest of me, lingering on my waist, and the chuckle turned into a laugh. He shook his head, laughing harder and harder, until finally he leaned over, resting his head on my shoulder as he tried desperately to control himself. The whole time, I stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
Because of course he had. I’d just elbowed him in the face. In. The. Face. My elbow had connected with his face. Hard. And yet, here he was, wheezing with laughter.
Weirdo.
He finally straightened, clearing his throat and trying unsuccessfully to school his expression. “Never a dull moment,” he said, his voice filled with mirth.
But more importantly, his hand had dropped away, and I could finally see the damage I’d done. Almost the whole right side of his face was already turning a nasty shade of purple, and his eye was swollen shut.
Oh my fucking God.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice sounding too high and thin for my liking. “Really okay?”
He nodded, though he winced at the movement. “I’m fine, Jamy.”
“Are you sure? Because we can get it looked at if you need to. There’s an urgent care around the corner that has a really good rating on Google.”
He chuckled. “Of course you know where the nearest urgent care is.”
I frowned. “Well, it’s good to be prepared. There were over a hundred people here today, so the potential for injury was high. Plus, food poisoning. I read this article that said that those sterno burner things they have at buffets don’t always burn hot enough to kill foodborne germs, especially if you don’t use them correctly. And I wasn’t too sure about the catering company Hannah picked, even though she said her friend from culinary school was-”
His lips descended on mine, cutting me off again. I wanted to pull back and protest, because hello, rude much? But he was just too delicious. Kisses from Sa
m were one of the few things that turned off my constantly whirring mind. I got lost in the moment, lost in the feel of his plump lips pushing against mine, the silky texture of his tongue, the taste of the wheat beer he’d had earlier. For a moment, it was just Sam and me, the way it should be.
He pulled back slowly, biting my lower lip softly, and I moaned. God, I freaking loved it when he did that.
“We’re not stopping on my account,” he growled, his one good eye burning into me. “I’m fine.” He reached around me, slapping my ass. “Now let’s get this fucking thing off you and get down to business.”
I grinned. “Well, I was going to tell you before you ran your face into my elbow – I have some scissors in my bag.”
“Now she tells me,” he grumbled. He frowned. “You’re not going to wear this again? Which I vote against, by the way. You’re perfect the way you are.”
I sighed. Yeah, this guy was just too perfect. “I’m sure. It’s uncomfortable as fuck. Just cut it.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He smiled as he crossed the room, digging around in my overnight bag for a second. He pulled the scissors out carefully, holding them up with a triumphant grin. When he was next to me again, he pulled the material as far away from my body as he could. He gently inserted the scissors between me and the Spanx, snipping carefully. When he’d cut away one side, he repeated the motion on the other side. Then he finally pulled them away.
I gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks,” I said rather breathlessly. I heard him laugh as I jetted off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
Ah, sweet relief. Also, yay for fancy (if overpriced) hotel rooms, because this bathroom had a bidet. I made sure every inch of me was clean from front to, um, back. I also took a minute to pull my bra off. While I was wiping stray mascara flecks from under my eyes, I heard a knock at the door.
Sam called my name from the other side, sounding upset.
I threw the door open. “What’s wrong? Is it your eye? Do you need a painkiller? I have some ibuprofen in my bag if you need it.” I inhaled shakily, looking him over carefully. But he was just standing there, holding the ruined Spanx between his hands, a strained expression on his bruised face.