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“Youdidkeep me safe,” I counter.
He holds meeventighter. He’s squeezing me so solidly against him that he’s almost crushing me, but it doesn’t feel painful. It feels right, like precisely what we’re supposed to be doing: falling into each other, finding support in each other as boyfriend and girlfriend forever.
“It could’ve gone so much worse,” he says passionately.
Slowly, I turn over, lean forward, and find his lips. I’ve been cautious about kissing him because I don’t want to give him the wrong ideas. His body seems primed for lust, as if he could turn feral, tear my clothes off, and push his massive manhood between my legs any second.
For some reason, I wonder what Mom would say if she knew where I was. She thinks I’m staying at Lexi’s house. If she knew about the gunfight or that I’m lying in bed with a man more than twice my age, it seems safe to assume she’d be angry.
We kiss deliberately. I sense Fletcher purposefully taking it slowly like he knows there’s danger of him getting carried away. He smooths his hand down my body, finds my hip, and squeezes it in that possessive way of his.
“I’m safe,” I tell him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his bare torso pushing against me, letting me feel the shape of his rock-hard muscles. “You don’t have to worry. Nothing bad is going to happen to your girlfriend.”
I have to pause before I use the g-word. I keep waiting for him to take it back or hint that it was just something he said in the moment. He didn’treallymean it. He kisses me again, deeper this time, squeezing my hip with so much possessive force my sex starts to ache.
There are still gunshots in my mind and blood in my memory. Deep down, I know I’m not ready, but that doesn’t stop me from kissing him with urgent desire. I smooth my hand down his body, then over his back, feeling each twitching, powerful muscle.
He groans and pushes against me. His manhood grinds against my belly, so hard, so ready. Deep inside, instinct pulses, telling me to give myself to my man, screaming at me to do it, be with him, and be the woman he needs. I swallow nervously as I lean back, creating some space between us.
I feel him trying to relax himself again. He thinks I’m moving away to give him a subtle back-off signal. As usual, doubt tries to stop me, but what’s better? Do Itrywith my man or lie here thinking about the blood, screaming, and pain?
Leaning back a little more, I create enough space between us to slide my hand down his crotch.
“S-Samantha,” he growls. “You don’t have to.”
“You don’t want me to?”
“I want you more than anything,” he snarls. “I want your hand, lips, and pussy wrapped around my dick. Of course, I do. Goddamn, but you’ve been through a lot.”
“So have you,” I whisper. “Maybe I want to make you feel better.”
I rub my hand on the outside of his shorts, stunned by how big he is, even if I’ve seen and felt him before. My body gets all tingly as he starts to moan. I stroke him from his base to his tip, his shape outlined through his shorts. His breath is hot on my face.
He strokes his hand down my body and slips it into my underwear. A small voice inside me yells to stop this before it gets too far. I won’t be able to give him what we both want and need. Then he reaches my heat, his finger stroking over my clit.
Pleasure bursts through me. I open my mouth to tell him,We can’t,but instead, I let out a shaky moan. He rubs me a little faster, playing with my clit, teasing me as I stroke him up and down. Then I grab his shorts and pull them down. He helps me to get them around his knees.
His cock feels so, so huge. I wrap my hand around him, still shocked at how massive and hard he is despite seeing and feeling him before. His breaths get even hotter, more urgent. His finger rubs my clit quicker, pleasure sparking.
I have to say it now. Otherwise, I won’t be able to.
“F-Fletcher,” I whisper. “I don’t think I can tonight.”
He pauses the movement of his hand but keeps himself pushed up against me.
“No,” I say. “I mean, the rest. All the way.”
He sighs. I think it’s one of relief. “Then you better keep stroking my cock, baby,” he snarls.
I moan when he pushes against my clit with more pressure. My hand returns to the up-and-down movement, driven by desire, instinct, and little thought. My core feels like it’s fluttering almost, a new sensation, as though it’s telling me to take his dick, take his seed, fill with his babies.
I stroke precome up and down his cock, my hand getting slick, my movements fast as I rub him quicker and quicker. He gasps when I start to getreallyfast. I’m timing my movements with his, my clit feeling like it’s burning as he gets faster, applying more pressure, owning me just as fiercely as I own him.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans.
“Y-yeah,” I whimper in response, everything getting tingly and hot, boiling, almost enough to make me scream. I think I would if it wasn’t for Charles and Loki.
“I can feel how close you are,” he says passionately. “You’re going to cream all over my hand.”
