Page 60 of But For You

I was about to defend my new friend, but Sam kissed me before I could get a word out. It was rough, the mauling he gave me, opening my mouth, his tongue tasting and tangling. He pressed me to him, devouring me until I had to tear free before my head exploded from lack of oxygen.

“Sam,” I gasped.

He knotted his hand in my hair and shoved my head back so he could bend to my throat, suck the skin into his hot mouth, and nibble down to my collarbone. The hickeys would be dark against my skin in the morning. Just the thought of him marking me brought a guttural moan from deep in my chest.

As I stood there, shivering and panting, he lifted me with strong arms, corded with muscle, arms that I loved to be in, and walked backward, carrying me, sucking my neck as I tilted my head sideways so he could reach as much of me as he wanted.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he chanted as he licked up behind my ear, his big hands digging into my ass as he shoved me roughly up against the wall, pinning me there, recapturing my lips, and kissing me again, hard and deep.

He smelled dangerous, the mixture from the bar still clinging to him, smoke and acrid perfume, but there was sweat in there, too, and the taste of scotch on his tongue. I tried to wiggle closer, undulating in his grip, rubbing my now-leaking cock against the rock-hard abs.

My legs tightened around his narrow hips as he levered off the wall, turned, and manhandled me down onto the couch.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.”

I did as I had been told, and he was back in minutes from the closet outside the bathroom with extra sheets. He also had the bottle of lube from where I had stashed it in the armoire.

He spread a sheet on the couch and then put another one over him, draping himself—as he was now gloriously naked—from head to toe.

“What are⁠—”

“The kids could wake up and come out.”

The man was always thinking.

“And what are you planning?”

He grabbed me—which answered my question—and dragged me to the floor, flipped me over onto my stomach, and told me to get on my knees.

I hurried, shucking out of my belt and dress pants and briefs as fast as I could.

The swipe of lube over my crease made me catch my breath, and the feel of his hairy thighs pressing against the back of mine brought on the whimpering.

“Oh, Sam.”

“Forgive me. I was an idiot. Of course you would worry. I was just mad.”

We could talk about it later.

“Yes.”

The first slick finger breached me, and I put my head back and moaned. He was pushing in and out, curling forward before pulling out, only to add the second finger as he licked up my spine. I was panting, mouth open, pushing back as hard as he was pushing in. He rubbed and scissored, working my muscles, opening them, relaxing me like he wanted.

“I want to suck your cock,” he told me, his voice scratchy and low.

“No,” I barely got out. “You fuck me. Hard.”

His moan was strangled and needy, and the sound, all dark and growly, sent a flush of fresh arousal over my skin.

“Sam … please.”

His hot, wet mouth made me shiver as he kissed up the side of my throat. The bite on my shoulder made me jerk under him, and when I felt the flared head of his cock against my entrance, the pleading began.

Slowly, pushing insistently forward, inch by inch, he pressed inside me. My muscles were still resistant even though I was slick with lube, and I could feel every bit of the stretch as he filled my clenching channel.

“Oh fuck.” His voice cracked as he slid home, buried to his balls, his hands gripping my hips too tight not to leave fingernail marks and bruises.

I shivered under him; the feel of him fully seated inside me was almost more than I could bear.