Shacking Up
Page 5
And then my eyes start to leak.
Sam is making me fall for him. And if we fall for each other, where will we land? Would we end up like the Jacobsens? Would I slowly learn to resent him over the years. Would I become unable to sleep because he doesn’t touch me anymore, resulting in a sleeping pill habit and memory loss? Would I kill him in my sleep?
A tissue appears before me and I take it, looking up to see Sam casting his eyes at me reassuringly. I take it and blink at his rugged, calming face. He slowly, deliberately blinks back, communicating all the things he has no words for.
I dab at my eyes and my nose.
This one simple gesture gives me the boost I need to keep listening to the rest of the day’s testimony—forensic experts and the medical examiner—which, thank goodness, is the last of it.
By the end of the day, all of us are drained.
So when the shuttle arrives back at the hotel and Officer Max takes us up to the hospitality suite en mass, I’m a little bit irritated at first. All I want to do is stuff my face and go to bed.
But when we walk into the hospitality suite, there is a table spread with food and snacks according to everyone’s food and drink preferences. We all rejoice and attack the table like a group of hyenas. I fill up my plate with salad and stir fry, and gobble it down. I pour myself a huge glass of wine. Even Betty seems to be happy with her gluten-free dinner. Sam helps himself to a ribeye and a glass of whiskey.
While we’re all gorging ourselves on dessert, Officer Max gives us the biggest shock of all by rolling a movie projector into the room.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Somebody requested While You Were Sleeping.”
That’s when I know who’s behind all of this.
I whirl around and grab Sam by the arm. “Did you do this?”
He pulls up a chair and pats the cushion, indicating he wants me to sit next to him. All the rest of the jurors are so hard up for screen time, they happily take seats around the room to watch.
“Sam.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you responsible for all of this?”
His eyes are glued to the wall at the far end of the room where the projector is showing the movie. But I spot a certain familiar twinkle. “I plead the fifth,” he says.
“Come on,” I say, playfully hitting his shoulder.
Shh,” he says, “movie’s starting.”
Chapter Seven
Sam
If aliens ever watch movies like this to learn about Earthling biology, they’ll think we humans all lose all of our memories every time we receive a blow to the head.
If I understand the plot of this romantic comedy, It seems the lady from Speed has a job as the world’s most attractive subway attendant, and she falls in love with some generic financial middle manager type with big eyebrows.
Anyway, it turns out the lady from Speed ends up falling for the finance guy’s much more relatable and rugged brother. Rugged according to Hollywood standards, anyway. Bill Pullman. Or Paxton? I can’t keep ‘em straight.
Apart from having the most ridiculous plot ever, it’s kind of funny I guess. It’s not the worst movie I’ve ever seen. That title belongs to the one about the boy who falls in love with the Nazi who can’t read. How the hell did that get made?
Maybe I’m enjoying this romantic comedy—not thoroughly, but somewhat—because I’m in the dark, not listening to lawyers speak, and Wren is sitting next to me. Her knee keeps gently bumping into my leg. Her soft giggles make me smile. I think we’re both a little tipsy from the alcohol that somebody brought in.
I can’t imagine who that was.
We’re sitting in the back of the room, where no one can see us. Wren uses our position to her advantage. She slips her hand under my arm and cuddles against me.
When she leans her sweet smelling head against my shoulder, my lungs fill with her scent.
She sighs softly and pivots her body toward me.
I’m enjoying myself more than I ever remember enjoying myself while watching a movie. It occurs to me that I want this. Every day. Out in the open. Not hiding in the dark.
I want to hold this woman in my arms every night and wake her every morning with sweet kisses.
I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else, and if that’s selfish of me, then so be it.
The whisper in my ear catches me off guard. “Meet me in the room in five minutes.”
“But I’m enjoying the movie,” I say, even though her whispers awaken the need in my body.
“Sam.”
“What? I am!”
“I’ll be naked.”
“See you in five minutes.”
* * *
Back in the room, my lovely Wren greets me perched on the bed, sitting cross-legged with the sheets draped over her middle. The top edge of the sheet just barely covers her nipples. Her hair is down around her shoulders, gleaming in the soft light of the lamps. She looks like an absolute angel.
The pulsing muscle inside my jeans would have me instantly lunging for her if I wasn’t the man I was. But I just need to commit to memory the sight of her like this. I stand there in the doorway between our adjoining rooms and take it all in, like she’s a fine work of art. She really is.
“I’m ready,” she murmurs.
When I step inside her room and unbutton my shirt, peeling it off slowly along with my undershirt, I catch Wren licking her lips. Seeing her enjoy the view of me shedding my clothes is enough to make me feel ten feet tall.
I still have to ask: “Are you sure? Are you sure you want me? There’s no turning back after this. I don’t do casual sex.”
She smiles. “Sam. There was no turning back the first time you stood up for me. You touched my heart in a way nobody else ever has. I’m already yours. You’re stuck with me for good, whether or not we make love tonight, or any other night. You’ll never be rid of me, Sam Ev—”
Without another thought, I cross the room, and press our lips together before Wren can finish that sentence.
That’s all I needed to hear.
Her hands scramble to unbuckle my belt, and I’m kicking off my Wranglers in a hurry. She wants me. She says I’m stuck with her. I disagree. “Stuck” is the wrong word for what this is. “Stuck” implies we’re left with no choices, like a couple that doesn't love each other anymore but can’t leave either, and has learned over time to resent each other. This is different.
This will be different from that. I can already feel it.
I feel it in the way our bodies connect. It makes no sense on a superficial level. But this connection is bigger than the both of us, and we can’t deny it.
I love this woman. With my whole heart.
Wren is folded into my arms, her small frame wrapped around me as we kiss.
“I love kissing you, Sam.”
“Then why’re you talking instead of kissing?”
She laughs her full-throated laugh, working her magic on me.
The soft skin of her ass under my rough hands. Her warm little body pressed tight to my hard muscles, making me feel 20, 30 years younger. The way her eyes force me to stare back. This woman has me under her spell and I don’t ever want to resist it again.
I put just barely enough space between us to slip off my boxer briefs; my aching shaft springs free with a thwap against my skin. It’s as if my dick can feel her wide eyes on it, can sense her parted lips while she stares. The throbbing, the ache intensifies. “Last chance, baby. You want out?”
Wren shakes her head no.
Contraception sorted, I lay her back against the mattress and settle myself between her legs, looking down at her soft, hazy expression. She’s locking her legs around me, pulling me closer.
My cock rests against her pelvis and she rocks into me; the friction of our bodies mashing together is intoxicating. It’s better than whiskey, and I want to absorb every drop. Savor her slowly, and taste all of her flavors. Get her ready and get my fill.
/> I pull back. She pouts.
“Just let me look at my sweetheart. Let me look at you and touch you.”
At my words, her face reveals a wistful smile that squeezes my heart.
I run my hands over her pretty face, trace my fingers over her full, sensuous lips. She kisses the tip of one and nips at it playfully while her hands explore my chest, my stomach, and eventually one hand wraps around my cock.
I suck in a breath and let out a grunt. Her gentle squeeze fires off sparks throughout my body. “Wren. Baby.”
I’m nearly nonverbal. I kiss her mouth hard, passionately. She takes it all in and gives it back as our tongues tease and intertwine, ramping up our shared heat.
My hands gently take her hand off my cock and I pin her arms above her head.
“Be a good girl and let me touch you. Let me get you ready for me, Wren.”
Her shocked face melts into a heated gaze of lust and pleasure.
“Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself while I touch you?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head slightly. I laugh and kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. “Is it OK for me to pin you like this while I touch your body?”
A rosy color fills her cheeks, and she nods her head. “Yes, Sam. I’d love that, actually. I just hope you’re strong enough to hold me down.”
“You’re a daggum saucy thing.”
She laughs again. “You’re gonna have to get dirtier than that if you want my pussy ready for you.”
The dark, horny beast inside me, all of its dirty thoughts about this woman over the past several days has finally been let out to play. It’s go time. “Oh really?” While my one hand still pins her wrists above her head, my other hand trails softly, slowly down her neck, and over her chest, stopping to caress each of her plump little breasts. Wren moans and closes her eyes when I tease her nipples with my fingers, drawing them out into hard little pebbles.
Watching her body respond to my touch only makes me harder, more ready, almost to the point of frustration. But I’m a big guy. She needs to understand.
My hand reaches lower and sweeps over the insides of her soft thighs. My hands enjoy the feel of her strong muscles, her calves, her adorable feet.
“I feel like a spoiled pet.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from. I’m going to take you home and spoil you rotten. And when I get you pregnant, your little feet are never gonna touch the floor. That’s how good I’m gonna take care of my wife.”
My hand travels back up to her pussy, my fingers sliding between her warm, wet folds. Her small soft moans drive me crazy, but I mentally pull back on the reins. It’s not time to slide inside yet, even as desperate as I am. I stroke her slowly, covering my hand in her juices, teasing her clit, and rubbing the muscles that are about to own me completely.
“Sam,” she breathes. Her body starting to shift around, like her pussy is trying to chase my hand for a firmer touch. “I need you.”
I kiss her softly, licking her lips and tongue with mine while my knuckles explore between her folds.
I sink my finger into her, stretching her while we kiss. “You’re so wet for me, baby. This is all for me, isn’t it?”
She nods and pushes back against my hands that restrain her. “Uhn-uh,” I say, pinning her back in place. She grins wickedly and her eyes flash. She presses her hips upward, pleading with me to touch her more firmly.
“I need you so bad, Sam. I’m so ready.”
“Say please.”
“Please,” she whispers. And damn if she doesn’t squirt out in desperation.
I’ve had enough teasing. Letting go of her wrists, I give my sweetheart what she wants. I sit up on the bed and pull her to me. Wren kisses me while taking control, straddling me, and taking my cock inch by inch.
She’s wet and so warm. My whole body feels it. Wren is everywhere. Every part of her is wrapped around me, my cock seated inside her. With my face buried in her hair, she’s all I can see, feel, breathe, smell.
We move together, with Wren setting the pace because I don't want to hurt her. It’s enough for me to hold her close while we kiss and lose ourselves in each other.
Her tight heat draws me in all the way to the hilt. With one arm, she holds me close while she explores my chest with the other, playfully pinching my nipples.
“You look so beautiful, moving up and down on me.”
She smiles. “You weren’t wrong, sir. It is big. I’m so full of you. It’s so hard. It feels so fucking good. Say something. Tell me you love my cunt. Call me your little slut.”
But I don’t do any of that. “I’m not an expert in dirty talk,” I say. “But do you want me to touch your clit while you do that?”
“Fuck yes,” she whispers, and my words cause her to move up and down at a higher speed, faster and faster, until she’s bouncing.
Her tits slap against my chest while the pad of my thumb works over her clit, swiping back and forth, then circling around. Her legs begin to shake and I feel her muscles tighten.
“Oh my god, Sam. Tell me I’m your good little slut. Please?”
I want to please her. I want to say all the nasty things she likes. “I need some time to get comfortable with the dirty talk.”
“Just let go. Just say the first thing that pops into your head.”
Instead, what tumbles out just as my release lets loose with what feels like the force of a hundred twisters is, “I love you, Wren.”
Chapter Eight
Wren
I have let go completely with Sam, more than I’ve ever let go with anyone else.
It’s more than just a climax that slams into me while we’re locked in this sweet bubble together. It’s the realization that I’m completely fine. I’m who I need to be and I’m with the man I need to be with.
This cranky old cowboy is my soulmate.
I asked for dirty talk; I wanted him to shock me.
Instead he shocks me by telling me he loves me.
But is it all that shocking, really?
I mean, I love him too. My still, small voice has been telling me so all along.
“I love you too, Sam.”
The squeeze he gives me echoes the squeeze I feel in my heart every time he looks at me with unguarded affection.
His walls are down. I’ve breached the barrier. I’m all his and he’s all mine.
On a ragged breath, he comes, gritting out a curse that sounds as beautiful to my ears as a wedding vow.
Sam and I stay close, shuddering against each other, me from my aftershocks and him from his potent release inside me that seems to go on and on.
“You are so damn beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaving sloppy kisses in a line up and down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. Every touch of his lips pulls another shiver from me.
“You’re still hard,” I muse, catching my breath.
Sam is too caught up in squeezing me close. His hands roughly caress my breasts as his mouth tastes and teases my nipples.
“I ain’t finished with you yet, darlin’.”
I take a leap, risking everything to tell him what I really want, “I’ll say you ain’t. This time I want you to put a baby in me. I want to feel your hot cum spurting out of you.”
“Judas Priest, woman,” he rumbles hoarsely between alternating sucks on my tits. “Keep talking like that and you're gonna make me take the Lord’s name in vain.” But he gives me what I want. I slide off his lap, and he removes the condom.
I watch him swagger away like the king that he is. That cowboy’s ass that looks so fine in his jeans looks even finer when he’s naked.
When he saunters back my way, I let my eyes rove his body. Sam’s full head of silver hair is slightly mussed from our lovemaking. His tanned shoulders and powerful chest glisten in the dim lamp light, and I consider myself lucky he likes to do it with the lights on. He doesn’t appear to be the least bit worn out. In fact, he walks toward me with the proud air of somebody who c
ould please his woman — twice — and then go outside and build her a garden shed all in one night. The sight of his salt and pepper pleasure trail makes my body ready for him all over again. My greedy eyes travel lower to his thick, still-rigid shaft. Fuck yes, that’s all for me. That’s the image going on my next cross stitch, for sure.
When Sam pauses at the edge of the mattress, I look up into his eyes, admiring his crow’s feet that grow deeper when he smiles. That rare curve to his lips catches me off guard, quickening my heart rate.
“You like what you see?” His voice rumbles. My heart hammers in my chest and the walls of my heat clench. This polite, humble man has just been walking around this world, keeping all this hotness to himself? It’s shocking, really. He’s a fucking Adonis and he knows it. I respond by training my eyes on his and licking my lips. For once, I’m at a loss for words.
Sam settles onto the mattress in front of me and slides me right back onto his lap. This time, there’s no need to get my body ready to receive him. I slide down on his length slowly, watching his hooded eyes close. My lips leave grateful kisses on each of his closed eyelids as I wrap myself around him again, exactly where I belong. His low groan of pleasure vibrates against my chest, ramping up my excitement. Our kissing quickly escalates from tender to greedy to frantic. His hands feel as if they’re everywhere, teasing, squeezing, holding me close.
I grip him like a vise with my thighs and clamp down around his shaft with all the muscles at my core.
On a ragged breath he asks, “Wren. Shit. Baby, what are you doing to me?”
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Sam’s eyes fill with more emotion than I thought possible from him. I squeeze the length of him as I rise up slowly, memorizing every ridge, every sweet inch of him.
“How long are you gonna keep riding me like this, angel?”’
“Until I get every last drop out of you.”
He moves with me, his cock still throbbing, still filling me up.
“We keep this up, and there’s gonna be a baby in you this very night.”