Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  “I mean, I was hungry, hangry really, and well, Sam asked me to stay tonight, so I thought we could have a couple of drinks.”

  “Sure,” Ben says and smiles briefly.

  Ben is quiet the rest of the trip home. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of sleepovers. Me? I’m beside myself.

  ***

  A short time after arriving back at the apartment, I deliver the meanest-looking, loaded-up cheese platter to Sam’s room. As soon as he lays eyes on it, he grins.

  “Anyone else joining us?” he asks, toying at the neck of a fresh black T-shirt with Counting Crows written across his chest in white writing.

  “Nah, just us. Ben’s having leftovers.”

  “I meant, you have enough here to last us days, Janie.”

  “Hey. I’m hangry. Don’t judge me.”

  Sam’s hearty laugh fills the room, lighting it up and filling my heart just the same.

  “Be back in a sec,” I say and run out to the kitchen, and grab two wine glasses and a bottle of red. Ben is hovering over a bowl of food, his eyes fixed on a game of rugby league on TV.

  When I get back to the room, Sam has tidied the bed covers, and the platter is on a small table he’s pulled closer. I pour each of us a small glass.

  “We need some tunes,” Sam says around a mouthful of food. He takes a cylindrical silver speaker from his bedside table. He pairs the device with his phone, and soft music filters throughout the room.

  A few wines down, Sam is slurring, and I’m no better in the speech department. Being together is bliss. Being away from the home, having a room where we can truly relax, is heaven.

  A familiar reggae tune has me bopping my head, which has quickly become floppy on my shoulders. My fingers tingle from the fermented grape-induced high, which doesn’t help when I’m trying to cut a few wedges of double brie cheese to slide onto crackers for us.

  Sam hums along to the song “Every Little Thing Gonna Be Alright”.

  “Bob Marley, yeah?” I ask.

  “Yup.” Sam smiles as he sways upper body. It looks as if he’s having the same trouble I am when it comes to holding his head up.

  “You know, if I was into smoking pot, I would definitely do it listening to Bob,” I say and giggle.

  Sam chuckles. “Is that so, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “I thought you were a good girl, Janie,” Sam teases.

  I hold one hand up as if taking an oath. “I swear, I am.” I plant a kiss on his cheek. “You know, one day we’ll get our campfire.”

  “Campfire?”

  “You know, the one you told me about?” Surely, he remembers.

  “Yeah, maybe one day,” he says on an exhale.

  With my back to Sam, I sit between his open legs and lean against his chest. “No, Sam. Not maybe. It will happen.”

  We sway in each other’s arms until the song fades to silence.

  “I wanna see what you think of this next one,” Sam says, swiping the surface of his iPhone.

  Another reggae song starts. When the first line blares through the speaker, talking about love and being treated right, goosebumps push up all over my skin.

  “Every song is like life,” Sam says in a soft voice and finishes the last of his wine, setting the glass aside. “It has low notes and high ones. Sometimes you have to spend some time in the low depths of life to appreciate the euphoria of a high.”

  I place my glass beside his. “That’s a beautiful way of looking at it. I totally get that.”

  I shuffle back onto the cushion at the head of the bed, and snuggle into Sam’s side. “Can we listen to your music?”

  “Sure.” He does something on his phone and the room is soon filled with the sweet strumming of a guitar. Sam returns to my side. “It’s as if I can finally breathe when I’m with you,” he whispers in my ear. “As if a piece of me is back.”

  I look up at him through my lashes and dance my fingers over his chest in time with the music. “I’m not far away, you know.”

  He grips my hand and holds it over his heart. “Yeah. I know.” Sam sighs. “Life has thrown a lot of shitty obstacles at me, and this distance thing … we’ll work around it.”

  “Three hours is nothing. I’ll even deal with crazy impatient city drivers for you. That’s how much I love you.” I sit up and move to straddle his waist. My tight jeans prevent me from spreading my knees as wide as I’d like.

  Sam wraps his arms around my waist and hums.

  “When did you realise?” I ask, and curl my hands over his shoulders.

  Sam squirms beneath me. His brows pull tight. “Realise what?”

  “That you loved me.” I can’t believe I’m asking this. But I need to know.

  Sam slides his hands up either side of my waist. His fingers tease at the underside of my boobs.

  Gulp.

  “Well, it seemed to creep up on me, but then it hit me all at once.”

  My chin quivers. His words are like a direct hit to my heart. “Me too.”

  Our lips meet. Each slow movement of our mouths causes me to moan deeper in my throat. As our kisses turn feverish, Sam fumbles at the buttons at the bottom of my shirt. I break my lips from his and undo the top button and rid myself of my top.

  “Good idea,” Sam says, his voice thick.

  I yank at his T-shirt and help pull it over his head. I’m gifted with a view of his bare chest, and a spattering of blond hair over his pecs. A long red graze runs across his hip, and a dark bruise is starting to form on his left shoulder.

  My breath hitches. The fall. “Does it hurt?”

  “I’m tough.”

  I lean in and softly kiss the bruise. His body shudders.

  “I’m gonna make you sing, Janie,” he croons.

  I reach back and unclip my bra. “You sure it’s not the other way around?”

  Sam swallows. His eyes feast on my bare skin. “Gonna make you sing like the beautiful bird you are,” he says in a deep monotonous voice.

  He plants kisses along the side of my neck down to my boobs. My back arches as he takes a nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub.

  I reach behind his head and hold him there, relishing every lick and suck. Feels so good.

  Sam’s hand moves around to the fly of my jeans as he gives the other nipple attention. I know he’ll struggle with the button, so I take matters into my own hands.

  “I got it,” I whisper. I roll away and onto my back, and peel off my jeans and wrangle with my underwear until they’re both free from my legs. I rid Sam of his shorts and straddle him once more.

  We’re bared to each other. This is the moment when I thought I’d be reaching for the light switch, preferring to continue in the dark. But I want the light on. I want to see all of Sam, and bare every part of me, my soul, to him. No secrets—no insecurities. I’m his.

  “You sure?” he asks, his voice wavering.

  He’s hard beneath me. I slide against his length, the wetness between my legs making each movement heaven. “I want you, Sam. More than my next breath. More than anything.”

  I tilt my hips and reach for him, guiding him inside of me. Inch by inch, I slide down, letting Sam fill me. Black and white specks mar my vision as I take all of him.

  “Fark,” Sam growls. “Janie, you …”

  I devour his words with my kiss and rock my hips as our tongues dance. With each roll of my pelvis, Sam slides in and out. I revel in the feeling of us finally reaching this point. To have such intimacy. It feels more incredible that I dared to dream. The more our bodies move in sync the more my heart cracks open wide, letting Sam in. He’s here to stay.

  Sam growls and digs his fingers into my hips to hold me still. “A little slower, babe,” he pants against my lips. His head angles back, and blue eyes stare deep into mine. He sees me. “I wanna savour every moment.”

  I reduce the pace, taking my time to enjoy each movement up and down. Sam fills me. Over and over. Closer to the edge. He places
his fingers where we join and rubs at my clit, pushing me further toward the point of no return.

  Sam groans deep in his throat. His hand falters. Sensing his frustration, I help guide his fingers and press them against my clit. With each desperate swirl, my core tightens until I reach the point where I might scream. Sam bucks beneath me, gripping my hip with his free hand.

  “Sam,” I choke out. “Oh, god.”

  Heat bursts from my insides, and I come hard against our entwined fingers. I sweep my trembling hands to his face and kiss him with all I’ve got as I ride out my orgasm. I want to cry and laugh and curse all at the same time. This feeling inside is like light and dark and technicolour coming together in an explosion of nerve endings. As promised, Sam has my whole body singing, but my heart sings the loudest of all.

  “Janie,” Sam cries against my lips. He thrusts into me a final time and pulses deep inside. In a shattered blissful mess, my chest collapses against his. Aftershocks of our orgasm continue to pulse through my body. I press a kiss to his neck. His racing pulse beats against my lips.

  “I wanna say ‘I love you’ right now, but it wouldn’t cut it. The words aren’t enough. You’re just everything, Janie. This. Us. This is my everything.”

  I press a featherlight kiss to his mouth. “You’re my everything, too.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Waking up beside Sam feels like all my Christmases have come at once. And I frickin’ love Christmas. Knowing the festival is today, and Sam will be with me, it’s set to be the best day of my life.

  The sun is barely up, but I’m wide awake. I watch Sam sleep for a while, admiring the peace with which he breathes in and out, and giggling at the occasional whirr he makes.

  When I’ve had enough watching, I run the edge of my fingernail softly at the tip of his nose and circle at the rim of his nostril. He scrunches up his face and moans. I repeat the action until he swipes at his cheek.

  “Wakey, wakey,” I whisper.

  He opens one eye.

  I sit bolt upright in bed and shoot my hands towards the ceiling. “It’s pumpkin festival time!” I cry out, and start laughing. My nipples waste no time perking up to the cool morning air.

  Sam pulls me into his chest and gives my boobs a soft squeeze. “Settle down there, girl,” he growls in my ear. “I’m not ready to start talking about pumpkins yet.”

  Little by little, Sam rolls on to his side. I give him space and turn so our naked bodies face one another.

  “So, hey,” he says, and nips at my jawline with his teeth.

  “Hey,” I mimic and wiggle my eyebrows.

  “Some night, huh?” He hums in the back of his throat.

  “The best, but I’ve got news for you. Today is gonna be that much better. What time do you think you guys will leave here?” I clear my throat, trying hard not to imagine the pillowy scones, dollops of cream, and trickles of heavenly maple syrup. A dinner of cheese and wine was not enough for my country appetite.

  “I’ve got a physio appointment at ten, and then we’ll hit the road.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s just past six-thirty. Surely there’s less traffic this time of day? If I leave soon, then I can get to the showgrounds by ten and help Britt set up her stall before the gates open at eleven. I feel like I need to thank her. She went out on a limb talking to me. I could’ve shut her down and told her she was talking nonsense. I’m glad I didn’t. Whilst I was expecting the worst when I got here, last night was the most magical night of my life. And like a certain boy once said to me, “life is short”.

  “I have a proposition for you,” I whisper and peck Sam on the lips.

  “Okay,” he says through a chuckle. “I’m listening.”

  “I need to shower. You need one too.”

  He lifts up his arm and sniffs his armpit. “Gee, thanks. I totally blame you though for me working up a sweat.”

  I reach out and pinch his nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “You’re welcome. Just shut up and listen to me, ’kay?”

  Sam’s eyes widen. “I’m all ears.”

  “For your own safety,” I say in a quiet voice as I gently sweep over the bruise on his shoulder, “we need to shower together.”

  Sam rolls onto his back and sits up, stretching his arms out to the sides. He looks down at me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Janie, I’m all about safety. Yours. Mine. Ours. Fuck. Let’s go be safe, already.”

  I throw back the covers and strut over to Sam’s side of the bed. He brings his legs to the floor, one at a time. I hold out my hands to help him up.

  He freezes in place, but his eyes work over my body.

  “Come on,” I say, and offer my hands once more.

  “Just taking it all in, Janie. You’re beautiful. Every inch of you. When we’re apart I’ll be relying on my memory to get me through.”

  I twirl around, turning slowly so he can get a good look. When my eyes connect with his once more, he tilts his head.

  “We have to leave the room?” he says on an exhale.

  I reach out and grip his wrists. “Let’s go be safe.”

  Sam rises to his feet, naked as the day he was born … and by the look of his soldier, as hard as he was last night.

  I tilt my head back to meet his heated gaze. “I got your back, Sam.”

  “Will you scrub it for me? Soap me up?” he asks, popping the P in up.

  I laugh at how ridiculous we sound, and what I’m about to say next. Do I dare make a note of this conversation for my WIP? “With pleasure.”

  ***

  I make it to the showgrounds just before ten-thirty, and help Britt open boxes and display her oils and candles. When I tell her Sam was fine her smile is fleeting, she busies herself once more, checking numbers on a printed document which looks like a list of inventory. Maybe she’s embarrassed that the fall was nothing. Maybe she’s worried about sales. It’s her first year at the festival, so she doesn’t know what she’s in for. I don’t know her financial situation, but with a guaranteed influx of visitors to our humble town today, her goodies will sell like hotcakes.

  I leave Britt around eleven and start my rounds visiting each stallholder. I’m wary not to eat too much, as I want to wait until I come back here with Sam.

  At two o’clock, I get a text.

  The Sheriff: We’re about an hour away. See you soon

  An hour? Bloody hell. What’s kept them? I punch out a reply, even though I want to get on the phone and give them a mouthful for taking their sweet-arse time.

  Me: Sure thing :p

  I head home and finally rid myself of yesterday’s clothes. After a long steamy shower, I put my Smashing Pumpkins playlist on my iPod dock and let the music flow through the house. I move to the beat of “1979” as I run the hair straightener over my brown locks and put on a little more makeup than my usual BB cream and mascara. When I dab a touch of pink onto my angled brush, I stare at the natural glow in my cheeks and change my mind. It’d be too much to add blush. After a touch of dark brown eyeliner and mascara, I finish the job with Sam’s favourite cherry red gloss.

  I slip on my square-necked black dress. Staring at myself in the mirror, I wonder if Sam will think I’m overdressed. The black R.M. Williams ankle boots I plan on wearing with it will make the outfit a little more fun and less formal. With my silver pumpkin charm necklace and Nan’s orange ribbon tied as a belt, my outfit is complete. I so wish you were here to meet Sam, Nan.

  After pacing up and down my living room with Butch in tow for what seems like forever, the Marshall brothers arrive in my driveway. It’s a bit more than an hour since Ben’s text.

  I step onto the porch, holding myself back from running into Sam’s arms. “Tonight, Tonight” filters out in the autumn air. My heart fills to the brim as I lay eyes on my man for the second time today. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I reflect on how close we’ve grown in less than twenty-four hours.

  Both car doors swing open wide. Ben is the first to emerge in a b
lack hoodie and jeans. He slams his door after him, and opens the back of the four-wheel drive. By the time he reaches the passenger side with the walker and a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Sam is standing. The knuckles on his hand turn white as he grips the car’s doorframe.

  Ben offers his hand. Sam swats it away, a scowl on his face as he clutches the walker. Must’ve been a tense car trip. On that basis, I decide not to give them a hard time over being late. I’m just glad they’re here.

  Something furry brushes past my ankle. Butch bolts towards Sam. Butch gives him a good sniffing, then bounds about in hysterical excitement as Sam wheels himself up the path to the house.

  “Settle down, Butch,” I say.

  When Sam reaches the bottom of the stairs, he stops and looks up with his brow furrowed. “Is that … oh my god, it is the Smashing Pumpkins,” Sam says, and guffaws. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

  My dress kicks out at my knees as I take three steps down to his level. “All a part of the festival spirit, Sam.”

  I loop my hand through his crooked elbow and guide him up the stairs until we reach the timber landing. Ben has the walker waiting for him at the top.

  Sam’s eyes widen. “You look divine.”

  I blow him a kiss as my insides melt. Divine.

  “Why thank you,” I say and curtsy, holding out the edges of my dress with my free hand. “You’re in T-shirt and shorts,” I say, and scale my eyes over him. “Why?”

  Ben moves to Sam’s side and guides him into the house.

  “Don’t panic,” Sam says as he sits on the arm of my couch. “I brought some gear to change into. Didn’t wanna get it all creased on the drive.”

  “Hmm. Good thinking,” I say and smile, and point down the short hallway leading from the lounge room. “The bathroom is first on the left, and my room is first on the right. Need a hand?”

  “Nah, all good,” Sam says. Both men disappear down the hall.

  Ben returns a moment later and returns to the car to grab another bag. When he steps back into the house, I ask him about the traffic. I figure it’s safer than asking what’s going on between them. “Not bad. There was a lot of congestion coming into town, though.”