Page 55 of Up In Flames

And she’s so gorgeous, with my seed on her lips, on her skin, I pulse again before I let nature win against my suddenly weak legs, and I slide to the floor. “That was… Nina.” Another groan leaves me. “I can’t. I’ve never… this was…”

I can’t walk. Can’t carry her to the couch. Can’t make love to her right now. I’m wiped. Physically, yes, but also emotionally.

“I need…” To make her come. To please her. I need to do it now.

“Sshh,” she whispers, sinking down onto one of my extended legs. “We have all night.”

I grab her head, forcing a connection between our eyes. “That was the first time. Because you love me. Because I love you.”

She nods. “And I loved making you come down my throat. So much.” After wiping her mouth, chin, and neck on her little top, she kisses my cheek before rising again. “You stay here. I’m going to pour us some wine. I’ll meet you in the living room once you regain your wits.”

“Don’t be sassy.”

But she smiles smugly like she’s just performed a miracle, and she has, so I won’t begrudge her the expression. I lean my head back against the wall so as not to watch her sashay away, but then I open my eyes because I love to see her walk.

And I love the new confidence in her step.

Huh. Guess she’s more like me than I thought. She’s happy because she’s made me happy. She takes pleasure in giving me pleasure. That’s somehow perfect.

Before she enters the kitchen, I call out, the words forced from me by the new understanding inside me. “Will you marry me, Jelly Bean?”

She rotates, hands on hips, glaring at me. “Just because I blew you?”

“Just because I love you, and because you blew me, and because I actually came because you enjoyed it, and because it’s going to take me a bit to recover, and because you’re amazing, and because I can’t live without you, and because I want to put a ring on it so that I don’t have to worry about some six-foot-five short guy snatching you off the street.” I think those are all my reasons, though there may be more.

She snorts before turning back to the kitchen. I wait while she shuffles around, making noises. My eyes close. I can’t keep them open. I feel my head lolling to the right, and I dream of her sliding back next to me.

“I’ll marry you, Sampson. But I still want you to spank me. When you wake up.”

Five minutes. That’s all I need.

CHAPTER 18

Nina

I curl on his lap and sip my wine while he sleeps, as content as I can ever remember being. Giving him a gift makes me feel lighter inside, like I’ve been looking for my purpose, and it may just lie in giving him blow jobs. I really did feel completely blissed out in a spiritual way, tending to his needs.

Ugh. Next thing I know, I’m going to buy a farm, become a stay-at-home wife and mother, and take up knitting. Kill me now.

Although, actually, none of that sounds so bad. Not with Sampson, anyway. In fact, it sort of sounds exactly like what I most want.

My stomach does one of those clenching things. Could be unsatisfied desire, which I’m no longer used to after these weeks of having Sampson give me orgasm after orgasm, or it could be his cum. There was a lot of it. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to eat for a week. Or it could be that I’ve changed so much in so short a time that I no longer know who I am, which is worrying.

But I like my life right now. I like it more than I ever have before, so maybe everything is exactly as it should be and I should quit second-guessing myself.

I lay my head against Sampson’s chest, so secure that I don’t even move when my butt falls asleep. He smells of smoke and sweaty male, which I thought I hated. Then again, I thought I hated him. Turns out he’s yummy from head to toe.

And he’s my future husband. He asked me to marry him. I said yes, though I don’t think he heard me. Still, that means we’re engaged.

I’m going to marry Sampson Dean.

I’m just closing my eyes on that happy thought, matching my breathing to his, when the doorbell chimes. Startling, I spill some of the wine from the glass I’m still holding onto his chest, but when he merely makes some whispering noises but doesn’t rouse, I use whatever stomach muscles I possess to get up from his lap without making too much sound or using too much motion. I don’t want to wake him.

The bell rings again, and I fly/trip to the door, intent on getting to whoever is being so obtuse that he’s going to wake my future husband. I quickly undo the locks and fly open the door—only to find myself face to jean-covered dick with a man almost as tall as Sampson.

The giant’s gaze drops, studying me from head to toe, and it’s only when he begins to leer that I realize I’m wearing my see-through-lace slutty outfit, now stained with dried cum and fresh wine. My hand automatically starts to shut the door, but he steps his foot into the opening, pushes it wider, and in the process, sends me flying backward—onto my ass, legs spread far too wide for modesty.

He stares at the space the lace thong barely covers before shutting the door. “Now, that’s a welcome I can enjoy, darlin’.” Leaning over, he extends his arms. His hands are almost on my waist, as if he’s going to pull me up into him, when a growl stills him.