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I wanted to kiss every inch ofhim.
Sam carefully lowered me onto his soft bed.
I felt like something fragile and delicate; a treasure.
He swiftly closed the bedroom door.
Before I knew it, he was on top of me.
His lips crashed onto mine and his body pressed me into the mattress.
I wound my fingers through his soft hair, losing myself in him.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, kissing my neck.
The atmosphere shifted.
I thought going home with a stranger meant I would be treated like something wild and disposable. But the way those words came out of his mouth didn’t match that expectation.
Here in Sam’s bed, I felt worshipped. I felt cherished. I felt respected.
I felt wanted.
This felt like more than a hookup. This feltreal.
“Take it off,” I said desperately, plucking at his buttons with fumbling fingers.
He reached for my hands and steadied them, then looked deep into my eyes.
“Don’t rush it,” he said with a long, wistful look. “Enjoy it. We’ve got all night.”
I swallowed as I looked deep into his longing eyes, feeling like I was face-to-face with something so overwhelming and vast I’d lose myself in it.
I felt terrified and fearless and vulnerable all at once. It was as if my body and soul were opening for him in tandem and I was powerless to stop it.
For once, it felt good to be powerless.
And just like that, I relaxed on the mattress and let him set the pace.
He kissed my collarbone again; slowly.
I arched my back and bit my lip as sensations flooded my nervous system, forcing my nervousness out.
Sam washed over me like wave: his secretive scent flooded through my nose, his soft, feathery hair gently caressed my cheek as he moved, and his hard body swept over mine with the hypnotic rhythm and power of the ocean.
I let the current pull me under.
Sam’s mouth descended. His bottom lip lightly grazed the gentle curve of my breast.
I whimpered again. Not from sensation this time, but from the quivering anticipation.
A singular notion lingered in the crosshairs of my focus: I wanted his tongue ring on my nipple.
His eyes flicked up to mine, as if asking for permission a second time.
I stared at him steadily; hungrily, unable to look away.
He must have seen the consent in my eyes, because he snuck two fingers into the black fabric and tugged it down, hard.
