His body pressed against mine, hot and heavy and perfect. I could feel him, hard, thick, teasing against my thigh, and God, I wanted him. All of him.
I slid my hand down between us, wrapping around him. Oh my god. He was hard and reallybig.
He let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as my hand moved. “Sam, what are you?—”
“I want to taste you,” I whispered, sitting up, pushing him gently back against the bed. “To touch you… to feel all of you.”
His hands gripped the sheets when I took him in my mouth, slow at first, teasing him, watching how he unraveled. The way his hips flexed. The way his head fell back. The way he said my name felt like a prayer.
When I looked up at him, his eyes were gone.
“Come here,” he demanded. I moved, straddling him, and his hands gripped my hips. “No more teasing,” I said, guiding him to me. He pushed inside, slowly, stretching me, filling me, claiming me, and I gasped. My nails were digging into his shoulders. He hissed but didn’t stop. He just smiled at me.
He was big, thick, and stretching me in a way that bordered on pain but settled deliciously into pleasure.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so fucking good, Sam…”
I moaned, loud and unashamed, my thighs wrapping around him tighter as he moved into me. Thesound of skin on skin echoed off the suite walls, a rhythm that was all that was needed, with no hesitation. His pace was ruthless, fucking me like he had something to prove.
“You can take me, sweetheart?” he growled into my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “I can,” I moaned, head falling back, body trembling. “And I want more.”
He pulled out suddenly, and I whimpered at the loss, my body clenching around nothing, already aching to have him again.“Shh,” he said, kissing my thigh. “I’m not done with you.”
He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, dragged me down with a firm grip on my hips, and buried his face between my legs. “Oh fuck—” I cried out, hands tangling in his hair as he licked, sucked, and devoured me. He held my thighs apart with both hands, his tongue moving in tight, devastating circles that had my entire body quaking.
I was already on the edge when he slipped two fingers inside me, curling them, and that was it, my release tore through me. It was wild and had me shaking. His name was leaving my mouth like a plea. A plea for more, honestly. When he finally looked up at me, his mouth was slick, his eyes dark and burning with heat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled.
“You’re addictive,” he murmured. “I don’t think I want to be done with you yet.”
That’s when I knew I was in trouble.
I was still catching my breath when I pushed up onto my elbows and looked at him, his body sprawled across the sheets, skin flushed, chest rising and falling in heavy pulls. He looked wrecked and perfect. I straddled him in one slow motion, fingers tracing a line down his chest. His hands instinctively found my thighs. “Round two already?”
“Unless you’re tapping out,” I smirked, leaning down to press my mouth to his jaw, dragging my lips to his ear. “I figured a man like you wouldn’t need recovery time.” He groaned. “Not with you.” I reached between us, lined him up, and sank down onto him in one slow slide.
His head dropped back with a hiss. “Fuck, Sam—” I didn’t move, not yet. Just watched him squirm, felt him twitch inside me, let the tension coil tighter between us. I liked this power. I liked the way he looked up at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Then he grinned. “Do I need a safe word now?” I laughed, rolling my hips just once, deep and slow. “You think you’re in danger?”
“I think I’m about to be ruined,” he breathed.
“Good,” I said, my voice dropping. “Then hold on.”
I started riding him, slow at first, savoring the stretch, the drag, the way he filled me so perfectly. My hands braced against his chest, nails dragging across his skin as I picked up the pace. His hands gripped my hips tight, guiding, encouraging me, until the rhythm turned punishing. He thrust up to meet me, over andover, the bed creaking beneath us, our moans tangled together like music.
My name was a curse on his lips, and his was a prayer on mine.
The friction, the heat, the control, it was overwhelming in the best possible way. And when I came again, it was with a cry, shaking on top of him, every nerve ending lit up. I was still pulsing around him when he gripped my hips, slowing my movement just slightly, his eyes locked on mine.
“Sam—” he panted, voice rough, desperate. “Wait. I’m about to come, and I need to know if I can do it inside you?”
I nodded, breathless. “Yes. I want you to.” That was all he needed. He groaned, deep, and thrust up into me one last time, holding me down as he spilled inside, his body tensing beneath mine, chest rising hard against mine like a wave crashing.
We stayed like that, tangled, breathless, pulsing with an afterglow. My head dropped to his shoulder, our skin slick and hearts pounding in sync. “Okay,” he whispered after a beat, lips brushing my temple. “If that’s what happens when you’re in charge… I surrender.”
Theo traced lazy circles on my thigh with his thumb.
“So… what’s the plan for your last few hours in Paris?” I let out a breath. “Rose and I were thinking of heading to Montmartre later, maybe one more round of pastries and overpriced souvenirs.”
“Sounds… fun,” he said, eyes soft. “What about you?” I said, adjusting myself enough to grab our wine glasses from the nightstand.
