She heard him mutter something that sounded impatient.
The head of his penis poked out of the waistband of his underwear and it really was a lovely sight. Fat and cut, reddened with the blood that made it hard, the slit just slightly damp. She crooned at the beautiful thing, running her fingertip over the top, petting like it was her favorite toy.
Oh, he was hot—so hot. And she could smell his musk, this close to all that was most vital about him.
She couldn’t help leaning down to flatten her tongue against the warm, bitter tip.
“Jesus, May,” he rasped, and she glanced up to see that he had a hand in his hair as if to keep himself from grabbing her. At her look, though, he reached down with his other hand and softly brushed his fingers through her hair.
She met his eyes and took the head of his cock in her mouth.
“God,” he breathed, his hips bumping up just slightly. As if he couldn’t help himself. As if he teetered at the very edge of his control.
She liked that thought. She closed her eyes and tasted his skin, swiping her tongue back and forth over the top of his penis, not trying to give a proper blowjob. This really wasn’t for him.
It was for her.
She suckled softly, inquisitively, tasting more salt, smiling in secret when his hips jerked again. She ran her hand under her chin and into his briefs. It was close quarters there, but she could feel his balls, drawn up needy and hot, and she rolled them tenderly in her fingers, such delicate things on a man. The very center of him held in her palm.
She pulled his shorts down farther until she exposed all of him, cock and balls, in the V of his jeans. Oh, he was beautiful: his penis heavy and veined, nestled on the blue of his chamois shirt. There was something obscene about his crude nudity there—only there—while he still wore shirt, jeans, and socks. She’d debauched him, her clean-cut cowboy. She smiled to herself, secretly, as she mouthed his length, tonguing the large vein that snaked down the underside of his cock. His penis leapt beneath her mouth, alive and hot, and she scraped her teeth gently—so gently—against him before burying her nose in the juncture of balls and cock and inhaling.
He had both hands in her hair now, moving restlessly, lightly, as if he only just kept himself from taking over. She liked this feeling—that he held himself back with the thinnest of threads, that any moment his willpower might break.
That she might make it break.
She lifted her head, tugging at his jeans. She wanted him naked. “Off.”
“Yes’m,” he drawled, his voice like gravel. He tilted his hips, helping her to shuck his jeans and sat up to pull his shirt over his head. Apparently he couldn’t wait for buttons, either.
She scrambled to stand at the foot of the bed, rapidly tearing off her own jeans, shirt, bra, and panties. She didn’t take her eyes off him the entire time, and when he lay back, nude and waiting, she stood for a moment, just looking. Sam West was long and lean with shoulders that made her want to touch: wide and muscled. He didn’t look like an overly ripped gym rat. He looked like a man who used his muscles to work. A man who was real. There was hair on his chest, sparse and curling, circling his nipples and navel, trailing down his belly to end in a tangle highlighting that gorgeous, ruddy cock.
He watched her watching him, and the corner of his mouth lifted, a wry twist. “So I’m not the biggest you’ve seen.”
“I didn’t say that,” she whispered, climbing onto the bed to kneel by his side. “I just said I wouldn’t tell you if you were.”
“No point in inflating my ego.” He nodded as if that made sense and trailed his fingers over her hip. “I guess I’m not that worried about your ego. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her lips parted at the blunt words. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know I’m just ordinary.”
He cocked his head against the cream blanket. “No, you’re not. Not to me. You’re the only one for me, May. Don’t you know that by now?”
Any other man and she would’ve eviscerated him for lying. For thinking her so naïve she’d fall for false flattery. Except this was Sam and his flattery… wasn’t flattery. He was telling the truth as he saw it.
“You’re not supposed to say that,” she whispered.
“Why not?” He trailed his fingers down her bare side. “Why shouldn’t I tell you how much you mean to me? You think trying to hide it makes it any less so?”
“No.” She shook her head, almost frightened by his bluntness. “But I don’t understand why. Why me?”
“Because.” Something close to anger crossed his face. “Anytime you walk in the room I can’t take my eyes off you. Anytime you walk out I have to physically stop myself from following you. I like your bitchiness. I like that you get right in my face. And sweetheart, I adore the way you stand by your criminal of an uncle. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, May.”
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she whispered, the words pulled from her very soul. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Don’t you?” he asked and his thumb brushed her nipple. “Maybe you should just kinda stop thinking about it. Just do what feels right.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t think I know right from wrong. I only know who I care for.”
“Okay.” His hand cupped her breast. “Then care for me, May.”
“I can’t. I have to—” She gasped, arching under his hand “—have to…”
“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart,” he said so tenderly she caught her breath. “You can care for anyone you damn well please.”
“That’s too simple.” She bit her lip to hold back a whimper.
“Is it?” He shrugged. “I guess I don’t think so. Just let go.”
She shuddered. At his hand, at his words, she didn’t know anymore.
He watched her as he weighed her breast in the palm of his hand, dragging his thumb back and forth across her nipple until it hardened.
She glared at him. “Do you have a condom?” If he didn’t she just might kill him.
Without looking away from her, he reached under the mattress and took out a strip of condoms.
“Suave,” she mocked.
He tilted his chin at her, chiding. “Put one on me, May.”
The sound of the packet tearing between her fingers seemed very loud in the loft and for a moment she wondered if anyone below could hear.
And then she decided she just didn’t care.
She sat up on her knees and unrolled the condom onto his cock. Her fingers trembled, but he made no comment at her weakness. She held him upright and swung her leg over him so that she straddled his hips.
He moved finally, then, placing his big hands on her hips. “May, I—”
But she gave him no chance to make any confessions. That wasn’t what this was about tonight. She lowered herself, surprised at how slippery she already was, and rubbed him through her folds. Up to her clit, down to her entrance, and back up again, the sound of their flesh sliding together wet and obscene in the darkness.
He closed his eyes. His fingers gripped her hips, and she wondered if he was that close already.
She smiled at the thought.
Then she notched him at her entrance and bore down.
There hadn’t been anyone else since last August—though she’d die a thousand deaths before telling him that—and the feel of him stretching her made her inhale. She shifted, lifting up a bit, before lowering herself again, working him in slowly.
She wasn’t quite seated fully when she placed her palms on his chest and leaned forward, her breasts dangling in his face. He turned his head and mouthed one, and she had to arch her head back and bite her lip. So good. So good to have him inside, to feel his hands on her, his mouth making love to her breasts. This feeling with him was something she could get lost in, forget all that she’d fought for before.
If she let herself.
She inhaled and lifted up again, careful not to let him sli
p entirely out. He seemed content to let her take the lead—or at least he was good enough to hold himself back. She twisted her hips a bit as she screwed down on him. This time she took him all the way inside, until her pubic bone met his. Until her clit rubbed sweetly against him.
Oh, that felt nice.
She flattened herself against him, sliding back and forth, grinding a bit.
He let go of her breast and switched to the other, sucking her nipple strongly into his mouth.
She moaned breathlessly.
But then he was sneaky. He slid his palm inward toward her center and slipped his thumb between their bodies. She lifted up just a little, and then he was pressing just there, against her clitoris, and the spark of pleasure, the sudden wave of pure, exquisite feeling, was so strong that she bent and grasped his head between her hands.
She kissed him as if he were oxygen. As if she sucked life from his lips. And she moved. Not well, not gracefully, because she half lay on him now, but she wanted the sensation, wanted his lips, too. Wanted everything that he was.
Something broke then, the thread that had held him back, perhaps. He surged up against her, his hips moving fast and hard, thrusting into her.
She sobbed into his mouth, giving up the control of their lovemaking even though she remained on top. She held on and kissed him and braced herself so that he could move strongly between her thighs.
Sam. Sam. Sam. He was the whole and the entirety of her person right here, right now, and she never wanted this to end.
But it must; they couldn’t struggle so sweetly together forever like this. He was slippery beneath her now, sweat filming his chest as he labored under her. His thumb stroked wetly against her, and she threw back her head, gasping, grinding her hips against him frantically. Just there… just there.
She saw lights, blue and yellow and white, behind her eyelids as she came. Her body shook with hungry pleasure and then shook again on another wave. Endless, endless, pleasure.
She opened her eyes finally, with great effort, and saw him, his teeth bared, his eyes wide, the blue almost glowing as he hissed out a long, silent breath.
She watched Sam West come inside her and was afraid.
Afraid of how easy it would be to love him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
DAY THREE
When Sam had woken that hot August morning six months ago, May had already crept out of the motel room. Sam might not have been the smartest guy in the world—certainly not college educated—but he liked to think he knew how to learn from past mistakes.
So when he woke in the dim winter dawn to May edging from his bed, he didn’t bother debating the matter. He simply grabbed her and rolled.
She squeaked kind of adorably, like a mouse startled by a swooping hawk.
Except mice didn’t usually give a death glare.
“Get off me,” she hissed, good and mad—or at least trying to look mad. He noticed she kept her voice down.
“Nope.” His brain was still a bit foggy from sleep, but his dick was already with the program, hard and pressing into the warm softness of her thigh. Her eyes might be sparking at him, but her body was relaxed and unguarded under his. The covers were still heaped over them, making a moist, warm cave, shielding them from the chill of the room.
He nudged the side of her face with his nose. He could smell himself on her and it made something within him stretch in satisfaction.
“May,” he said, in greeting or simple acknowledgment: May, here with him. May.
He opened his mouth over her earlobe, tasting a hint of salt.
She brushed her hand into his short hair. “Look…”
“Mmm.” He tongued down the side of her neck, making her shiver. Making his hips shove into hers.
“We can’t—”
“Hush,” he whispered, doing a push-up over her. He wanted to see her breasts. It’d been dark last night and he hadn’t taken the time to look.
Now, though… now he had all the time in the world.
There they were, round and perky, her nipples shockingly dark against her fair skin. Her tits looked kind of happy to see him.
Unlike the rest of her. “Sam,” she complained, wriggling beneath him.
He winced as a sharp knee nearly took out his morning joy.
“They’ll hear you, you know,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to one brown nipple. He’d given up way too soon last time. “You want that? Them listening?”
She stilled at his words—or maybe it was because he was licking her nipple.
“I… I don’t think…” Her husky voice trailed away as he sucked her into his mouth and he hid a grin.
Good. Her thinking had never led to anything positive for the two of them. Better to not let her think at all.
He tongued his way across the skin of her chest, the delicate bones beneath, to her other breast. He licked all the way around that nipple before opening his mouth over it.
She whimpered softly—sweet, sweet music to his ears. “We… ah… we shouldn’t. Sam…”
She might be voicing doubts, but her legs opened, welcoming him in. He let his weight settle against her, his cock sliding on her moist skin. He could feel the rough little curls over her pussy, the heat and slipperiness below. Suddenly he had a driving need.
He raised his head, looking into her wide, dark eyes as he nudged himself into her folds, sliding. “May.”
She was wet. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast. Her cheeks were pink, a crease from the sheets still imprinted on one, and her hair was flattened against the side of her head from sleeping.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He kissed her because he had no other way to tell her how big his heart was right now—swollen to bursting with need for her. She was so small, so vicious, so vulnerable. All that packed into one feminine body, one lightning-quick mind. How could he ever keep up? How could he ever let her go again?
He pushed his tongue into her mouth too soon, not letting her get used to what they were about to do.
He angled his head, taking her mouth, staking a claim on her.
He opened his eyes and glanced at the side of the bed. He had more condoms under the mattress, if he could just reach them… He felt with his left hand, fumbling with the blanket hanging over the edge of the bed. The crease was just there…
She murmured something and he growled back, nipping at her bottom lip. His cock pulsed with blood, with heat and need, and he wanted to put it in her. Where was the damned condom?
His fingers found the square packet just as she arched under him, rubbing her pussy against him.
Jesus. He nearly went cross-eyed.
He broke away from her lips, gasping. “Hold on.”
“Hurry.” Her single, moaned word made his hips jerk against her. He had to get that condom on.
He knelt up, tearing the square open with his teeth, hands vibrating as he concentrated everything he had on rolling the thin latex down his cock.
When he glanced up he couldn’t help but catch his breath. She lay on his bed, spread and open like a thirteen-year-old’s wet dream.
Like everything he’d ever hoped for in this life.
Her eyes glinted in the dawn’s light as he took his cock in hand and lowered himself.
“May,” he whispered, and he didn’t know if she could tell that he was bleeding from the soul as he found her opening. As the head of his dick nudged inside.
Hot. Soft and tight and hot.
God damn. So fucking good.
He closed his eyes for a moment, praying, gritting his teeth, teetering on the edge of bursting.
She wrapped her slim legs around his hips and pulled, and he grunted as he slid all the way into her.
Her hands were skittering over his shoulders, her mouth open, panting. “Move.”
He withdrew slowly, carefully.
She arched beneath him, her head tilted back on her graceful neck. Her throat was damp. “Move, move, move.”
/> And he did. Shoving hard into her, riding her roughly, making the bed rattle against the wall. Blissed out on fucking May.
She moaned, loud and uninhibited, and the sound sent a shock of lust through his spine, electrifying every nerve. He propped himself up on his elbows and pounded into her, watching her face, sharing her breaths. Her breasts jiggled against his chest with each thrust, and even in this animal state with nothing on his mind but the feel of her around him and how ever-loving good it was, even now he was aware of the thin wisps of regret and longing and sorrow, hanging like cobwebs in the corners of his brain. He wanted this forever. Now and tomorrow and all the days afterward, him and May together, amen.
If she’d only let it be so.
He rode her until his chest was heaving and his heart was racing and the breath sawed in and out of his throat and he might have a heart attack at any moment. Until the pleasure raced up and down his spine, looking for outlet. Until she gasped his name, soft lips trembling. Until he couldn’t stand it anymore and bent to lick the sweat from her beautiful throat. Until he felt her orgasm hit, hard and overwhelming, squeezing tight around him, holding him like she’d never let him go.
Until his sight whited out with his own release.
He slumped against her, twitching helplessly from the aftershocks, his brains blown out. He knew he was heavy, probably crushing her, but he just couldn’t move. He had to wait for his brain to reboot.
“Sam.” Becky’s voice came from below, sounding high and panicked. “Sam!”
He jolted up, throwing the covers over May even as he reached for the Beretta under the bed.
“What?” he yelled back, fumbling off the condom and taking a few painful short hairs with it. “Becky?”
Where the fuck were his jeans?
George answered him. “There are people outside this house. With dogs.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven