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What if I’m just “built different” in the worst way and am too dainty to have full-on, penetrative sex with anyone? That might not have been so bad before Sam. But now I’m practically dying for some dick, his in particular. I would literally sell a kidney—or at least a few slivers of my liver—on the black market for just one night with him.
But as hepops the button at the top of my khakis and slips that much-longed-for hand down the front of my panties, even a single finger feels like it’s stretching me down there. Stretching in a wonderful way, but also…a terrifying one.
“Am I freakishly small?” I ask, even as I arch into his finger, pretty sure the feel of that single digit moving inside me is the best thing I’ve ever felt.
“You’re tight, but no,” he says, kissing my throat. “There’s nothing freakish about you. You just need to relax.”
“But what if I can’t relax?” I ask, my pulse racing faster. “What if this is as relaxed as I get, and we can never have sex and all our carnal dreams are about to be dashed on the rocks of eternal despair?”
He pulls back, grinning down at me for a beat before he apparently sees the crazy in my eyes and his expression sobers. He shifts his finger back to my entrance, slowly circling my clit as he says, “Nothing’s going to be dashed on the rocks of eternal despair. And I have a good idea how to help you relax.”
I arch a dubious brow, but his fingers are working their magic again, making my voice breathy and hopeful as I ask, “What idea is that?”
“I think it’s best if I show you,” he says, his fingers curling over the top of my pants and underwear. “Lift your hips.”
I hesitate a moment and Sam looks up, asking in a husky rumble, “You trust me?”
I nod and obey, my breath rushing out as he drags the rest of my clothes down my legs and tosses them onto the floor. Then, he’s between my thighs, gently spreading them wider as he settles onto the mattress to study my most intimate places like he’s searching for the glitch in a buggy batch of code.
I’m about to ask him if there’s something weird going on down there when he makes a soft groaning sound and whispers, “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. How wet you are for me,” and drops a sweet, lingering kiss on my clit.
And then his tongue pushes into my core with the perfect mixture of tenderness and hunger and my eyes roll back into my head as the disco unicorns return with a vengeance. He licks and sucks and teases through each previously unexplored fold, claiming every inch of territory between my legs for his own. At first, I’m torn between abject delight and concern that he’s going to find me unsavory in some way, but by the time he grips my ass in his big hands, leveraging me closer to his tongue and devouring me like a particularly juicy slice of watermelon, I’m shameless and wild.
I grind up into his mouth, panting for breath as I transform into a human bottle rocket and shoot into the sky, shattering in a noisy explosion of sparks and “God, Sam, yes, Sam” that make me grateful my parents are still on the other side of town.
He emerges from his bliss-inducing exploration to kiss me on the lips, sending the salty, ocean-creature taste of my own arousal tingling through my mouth. To my surprise, it isn’t a bad taste. Not even a little bit.
It’s a sexy, earthy taste that makes me eager to do a little exploring of my own…
“My turn,” I say, tugging open his fly and shoving his pants down around his hips as best I can with one foot. “I want to taste you.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, cupping my breast and finding my already tingling nipple. “You don’t have to. No pressure at all. I love making you come on my mouth. I’ll do it every day and twice on Sunday, if you’ll let me, and you never have to return the favor.”
“It’s not a favor, it’s a calling,” I insist, rolling him over onto his back, so starved for a taste of him that I don’t feel self-conscious about the fact that I’m naked and straddling a nearly naked man’s hips for the first time in my life. I reach down, fisting his long, lovely cock in my hand and stroking it up and down, grinning as it twitches in my fingers and Sam lets out a long, tortured groan that assures me he finds my touch every bit as magical as I find his.
I scoot lower on the bed, holding his gaze as I bring my lips level with the glorious erection pulsing in my hand. I have no idea what I’m doing, but Sam looks completely enthralled, so mesmerized I suddenly feel certain that I’m going to rock his world. All I have to do is follow my instincts and lean into things that make him look like he’s being slowly, deliciously tortured to death.
Grinning at the thought, I drag my tongue up his length, savoring the clean, salty taste of him nearly as much as the moan I wrench from low in his throat.
I lick him again, swirling my tongue around his swollen tip at the end. I’m about to see how much of him I can fit into my mouth when a voice calls out from the front of the house, “Jessica, it’s Dad. Vicky had the baby!” and I come fully out of my skin with terror.
“My father! Get dressed!” I hiss, bolting off the bed so fast that I fall down and end up struggling into my khakis on the carpet like a turtle trapped on its back as I call, “Great news, Dad, be right there. I was just…”
“Playing chess,” Sam supplies as he hauls up his pants and tugs on his shirt with a speed that gives me hope we’re going to escape this mess without getting caught. “To keep from worrying.”
“Yeah, we were worried,” I add as I whip my shirt back into place, stuffing it into my khakis with one hand as I hastily smooth my hair with the other. When I’m done, I turn to Sam and whisper in a breathless rush, “Do I look like I was about to have sex?”
He grins. “No, you look totally normal.”
I prop a hand on my hip. “Then why are you grinning like that?”
He laughs. “Because I’m crazy about you and that was the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”
“Me, too.” I start to giggle but swallow the sound as I hear my father’s footsteps in the hall. With just seconds to spare, I whip open the chess set on the desk and plop it down on the carpet.
Sam joins me, plunking a few pieces onto the board and settling into a cross-legged position across from me just as Dad appears in the doorway.
He smiles at the sight of us, and I instantly feel a little guilty for deceiving him. But only alittleguilty. It’s hard to feel too guilty about something that felt so good and so very, very right.
