Yes!
Sam stood up abruptly, tilting his chair over. He barely heard the clatter as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. He threw it onto the table—it was more than enough, but even if it wasn’t, Bashir knew he’d be good for it later—and grabbed her hand.
Nicole was looking utterly shocked at what she’d said, big blue eyes wide in dismay, that luscious mouth a shocked O.
Sam couldn’t stop to think about that. He couldn’t think about anything, actually, except getting her into his bed. Or wherever. It didn’t have to be a bed. Against the door or the wall or on the floor or the couch would do just fine. He didn’t give a shit.
The important thing was to get into her as fast as possible and stay there as long as possible. Till next year, if what he was feeling was any indication.
It was as if he’d never had sex before, ever. He was so excited he could barely feel his hands and feet as he walked to his car, moving fast. Luckily, he had his arm around her waist when Nicole stumbled on the gravel.
Sam held her fast. She’d never fall when she was with him, but he was ashamed that he’d been half dragging her along.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and slowed his stride. He was a runner, and he was used to getting from A to B fast. He moved fast on principle and when he was aiming toward something he wanted, he picked up speed.
Had he been running? God only knew. His senses were so blasted he wasn’t getting any input except from his dick, which was communicating what it wanted loud and clear.
He tried to slow down, even out his stride, but damn, it was hard.
Later, he’d reflect on what it meant for him to be out of control of his body. It was unthinkable. He’d learned self-control in the hardest school possible—his early years. And then the Navy and SEAL training had taken those skills and honed them to machine-like perfection.
He was in charge of himself—always. Aware of his surroundings and his place in any given setting. He was rock steady. For a while he’d been a fucking sniper, for God’s sake. Snipers could control their own heartbeats, certainly their breathing. And their hands never trembled.
Right now, he was barely aware of the outside world, only of the beautiful woman by his side. Everything else was fog. He was tunnel visioning, like untrained soldiers in battle, hands trembling.
Ten feet from his car, he took out his key fob and unlocked the doors. It took an effort not to simply throw Nicole into the passenger seat. A couple of seconds later, he was in the driver’s seat, hands curled whitely around the steering wheel. He was so excited, he was almost panting.
Sam looked over at Nicole and winced.
She was pale, eyes wide with what he recognized as dismay and not desire, hands in her lap clutching each other so hard she was white-knuckled. A vein pulsed in her neck.
Fuck.
She was scared of him.
He had an idea of what she was seeing. A large, very strong, very fit man with clenched jaws and narrowed eyes, emanating aggression.
Fighting and fucking are closely related, certainly for a man like him. He was dominant on the battlefield and dominant in the bedroom. That was his nature and he’d long since grown used to it.
But he did not want Nicole Pearce scared of him. Shit, no. She was the classiest lady he’d ever gone out with, bar none, and the most beautiful, too. And by some miracle, it turned out she was kindhearted. Women like that didn’t grow on trees. They were so rare, in fact, that he’d never met anyone even remotely like her.
She needed to be treated gently, like a lady, but goddamned if his blood wasn’t up. He recognized it, oh yeah. Now that he was in the car, ready to make it to his house and to his bed as fast as the law would allow, he realized he’d somehow gone into combat mode.
The slight panting was to pull in oxygen for a major effort. His body was preparing itself for something big—fighting or fucking, it didn’t care. It just knew that it had to be ready and that it was going to be rough.
At every level, Nicole was perceiving this, perceiving that he was a male with a broad streak of violence to him and a major case of almost out-of-control lust focused tightly on her.
She’d have to be crazy to go home with him in this state. But if she said no right now, he’d simply howl at the moon.
Sam knew he had to do something, and fast.
First, relax. He uncurled his hands from the wheel, sat back and consciously unclenched his muscles. Forced himself to breathe slowly. Forced his face muscles to relax. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Opened them.
For the brief time he’d been a sniper, he’d learned a lot. He didn’t love the mechanics of sniping like Mike did. Mike loved his guns like children. For Sam they were tools, and not particularly interesting ones at that.
But still, sniper training included big chunks of bodily control. They’d taught him how to slow his heartbeat. They’d been taught to let their bodies go into a weird form of hibernation, where they could stay utterly still for days at a time, bodily functions set at minimum, turning over just enough to stay alive.
He reached deep inside and dialed himself down. Way down. Over the next minute, like the ticking of an engine cooling, he slowed his heart rate, his breathing, even stilled his thoughts.
No more fevered images of Nicole Pearce under him, deep blue eyes slitted in ecstasy, long slender legs open for him, soft cunt accepting him.
No no. Instead, he filled his head with quiet pools of emptiness and gray nothingness, willing his body to cool. The first time he’d been told that SEAL training taught you to do that, he’d laughed. It sounded too much like something beamed in from Woo-Woo Land. Sam had wanted into the SEALs more than anything else in the world because he wanted to be the hardest man in a world of hard men. When told part of that included becoming like Yoda, he’d scoffed.
But it had worked then and it was working now.
Nicole’s hands were now still in her lap and a little color had come back to her face. She’d lost that shocked look, as if she’d suddenly found herself face to face with a wolf.
Their eyes met. Christ, her eyes were beautiful. Such a deep, intense blue, framed by ridiculously long lashes. How the hell could she keep her eyes open with lashes like that?
“I want you. A lot,” he blurted out. Oh shit. He’d wanted to say something soothing, maybe even suave, not that he was known for his smoothness. Usually he was pretty blunt with women.
She looked like the kind of woman who’d appreciate a little suavity. It seemed that right now he didn’t have any in him. Desire had fried his circuits. “Sorry.” He winced. “I mean—”
Nicole huffed out a little breath. She wasn’t smiling, but her face had lightened. “That’s okay. I kind of got the message when you dragged me out to your car without stopping to ask for the check.”
His back teeth clenched. “Sorry,” he said again, then stopped. Quit while you’re ahead.
“Yes, I can see that.” Her voice was soft. They looked at each other, gauging each other, the cabin of the car utterly quiet. Sam controlled everything—his breathing, his movements. Stillness would have to be his gift to her, a sign that he could control himself later, in bed.
He hoped.
Nicole lifted her left hand from her lap. How could absolutely everything about her be so frigging beautiful? Her hands could figure in one of those soap commercials. Pale ivory skin, long, slender fingers. Some kind of complicated ring with several kinds of stones on the middle finger, not the ring finger, thank you, God.
Nails manicured but short without that white square-top craziness and not painted black or purple. That and black lipstick were real turnoffs for him, made him think of fucking a zombie. Gah.
There was nothing about Nicole that was a turnoff.
Nicole’s hand was so gorgeous he had to freeze his muscles not to grab it.
Her hand was moving, floating in space. He didn’t take his eyes from her face, though he could easily see her hand in his peripheral vision. Slowly, she placed her hand over his on the wheel. It felt cool, and soft.
The contrast between their two hands was amazingly erotic. His hands were large, tough, scarred. Hers were like some marble statue by the world’s greatest artist.
He became, if possible, even more still for a breath, two. Something must have reassured her because she smiled, faintly. She squeezed his hand, a light caress that shot straight to his dick, then put her hand back in her lap.
“Are we going to do this?” she asked, her voice low.
Fuck yeah! Sam locked the words in his throat instead of yelling them out.
“Yes. I hope.” His voice came out hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. He cleared his throat, then locked his mouth shut. Do not jinx this, he told himself. Anything that came out right now would be wrong.
Her eyes dropped to his groin, where a blue steeler was trying to punch its way through the lightweight wool of his expensive suit pants. Unlike the jeans, the suit pants simply outlined him.
“I can see that.”
Blood pulsed in his dick, and it moved in his pants. She couldn’t miss it. It was like his dick was reaching out to her.
There wasn’t anything he could do to hide the hard-on. Sometimes when an erection became inconvenient, he could think it back down, like slowing his heartbeat. Life was full of downer thoughts, images that could dampen desire.
Nothing like that could work now, though. There wasn’t any thought in the world that could make his dick go down with Nicole Pearce a foot away from him, contemplating letting him fuck her. His dick actually hurt and his balls were curled right up tightly against him, waiting to blow.
She searched his eyes, looking for something. He imagined she was looking for signs of violence. There was violence in him, sure, always had been, but never toward women or children. He’d never hurt a woman or a child and was grateful that his military career had never forced him to, because he wouldn’t have been able to.
But beyond that, he could never hurt Nicole Pearce. He’d rather shoot himself in the chest. He just hoped with all his heart that he could keep in control in bed with her, which was another matter.
Control.
He’d spent a lifetime in control of himself and had to grip himself tightly to keep it, because it felt like it was slipping away, like sand through a fist.
Finally her lips turned upward in a faint smile. “Okay,” she said softly.
All right! It was like letting a greyhound out of the gate.
A second later, they were shooting down the road, Sam trying to make it to his apartment as fast as legally possible. He wished he had one of those James Bond cars that could fly.
After twenty minutes at top speed, they were driving along the waterfront, the sun starting to set in a bloom of red on the water. It was a beautiful evening.
With any other woman, he’d remark on that. He’d driven countless women to his house or their house, knowing they were going to fuck, and he’d always been capable of keeping up a light conversation.
He couldn’t get any words out now, though. None. It was like his throat was seized up.
She didn’t seem to have any problems with that. He liked that she was comfortable with silence. She looked out at the vastness of the Pacific, the lower edge of the boiling crimson sun lighting gently on the horizon.
“It’s a lovely evening.”
Sam made a strangled noise in his throat and she turned to look at him.
“Where do you live? Where are we going?”
An ordinary question, deserving of an answer. He was going to scare her again if he couldn’t even fucking talk.
He wrestled with himself, grabbed at a little self-control.
“Coronado Shores. Bought an apartment there over a year ago.” He had to actually think about driving. Red lights, green lights, brakes. He was a good driver, had a natural feel for it, but right now he had to work hard not to press the accelerator to the floor and the hell with everything. Probably drive them straight into a goddamned light pole. “I was essentially a Navy diver and when I moved back here, I knew I wanted to live close to the sea.”
That was part of it, but he didn’t say the whole truth—how he’d spent countless afternoons on the dunes a couple of miles down, spending as much time as possible away from Old Man Hughes’s fists, watching Navy SEALs go through their brutal paces. He’d longed to be one of them, part of a team of men with all the skills to make the world safer. Over the years, watching the hard men become harder by the day, he knew what he wanted to do with his life.
And now, in his post-military life, living in Coronado Shores meant he could run along the beach down to the training area and watch the new recruits rolling in the freezing surf and know that there would always be a new generation of men to watch over his country.
Nicole was looking around her with interest as they drove into Coronado Shores, passing by the first of the big condominium complexes. His was the last, La Torre. “I’ve been meaning to explore this part of town but I never got around to it,” she said softly.
“That so?” He was surprised. The area was a popular outing for San Diegans.
She looked at him with a faint smile. “We’ve only been here a year. Since we arrived I’ve been really busy with Dad and Wordsmith. I’ve barely explored San Diego, just poked around a little, mainly in our part of town and the downtown area near our building.”
“I’ll show the area to you,” Sam offered. “Be happy to. I know the city like the back of my hand.” Afterwards. When we come up for air, whenever that will be.
She looked at him, a sideways dark blue glance that held a slight note of sadness. It hit him like a sledgehammer that she wasn’t really expecting to see him again after tonight.
Oh no, he wasn’t buying that. No way.
That big song and dance about her not having room for a man in her life? Fuck that. Sam would fucking plant himself at her fucking feet if that was what it took to keep seeing her.
“We’re here,” he said, veering sharply into his condo’s driveway, then plunging down into the underground garage. He drove into his slot and killed the engine.
His condo had 140 units and the garage was usually busy 24/7 with people coming and going. Oddly enough, though, right now it was deserted. The only sound was the ticking sound of his engine cooling.
They sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Nicole swallowed.
Do something, dickhead, he told himself.
Clutching the wheel tightly, because he didn’t trust himself to touch her, he leaned over to her, slowly. She was still a moment, then moved her head to meet his, hands in her lap. Their lips met over the central console.
The first real taste of her was electric. He felt it down to his balls. The merest taste, a brush of the lips, then, heads tilting, a deeper taste.
Oh God, it was like drinking fine wine. His nose was against her cheek. Close up, she smelled even better. They should just bottle up that smell and call it Desirable Woman. Men would follow women wearing it over cliffs.
He opened his mouth and licked her tongue, feeling her in-drawn breath from his mouth. Oh Jesus. One more second and he’d tilt her seat back, climb on top of her, lift her skirt, rip her panties open and drive into her.
He could barely breathe from the excitement. They had to take it inside. He didn’t give a shit, but presumably Nicole would mind being caught humping in the front seat.
He lifted his head, watching her eyes slowly open, like huge dark blue headlights. She looked dazed, the skin over her cheekbones flushed. She was aroused. Not as much as he was—that would be impossible—but she was definitely turned on.
“Let’s go up.” He was whispering. Everything felt fragile, as if the moment were of glass and could shatter at too loud a sound.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
There was no small talk in the elevator going up. Nicole couldn’t utter a word, her throat was too tightly closed. What was there to say, anyway? She couldn’t have made any small talk that wouldn’t arrow right back to what they were about to do.
Sam Reston stood beside her, looking as if he were about ready to explode, with an enormous erection tenting his pants. Any possible comments she might make about the weather or the building or the food they’d just eaten would be inane.
The very air felt charged, as if something enormous, something dark, surely momentous, possibly dangerous, were coming closer with each second.
This hadn’t actually happened to her before—going to a man’s house on a date having already accepted the idea of sleeping with him. Ms. Cool always kept her options open, never promising anything. A number of men who thought going to bed with her was a done deal had been left hanging. She made no promises and always reserved the right to say no if she became uncomfortable with the idea.
She wasn’t going to say no now. She couldn’t. It was as if Sam were this…this dark wizard who’d somehow cast a spell. Cast a glittering net over her so she couldn’t escape, couldn’t go back, could only go forward. The way an arrow, once loosed from the bow and embedded in flesh, can only be pushed forward, never pulled back.
There was this huge, rushing stream of dark sensuality, flowing directly toward his apartment and his bed, and she was caught in it.
At the thought of being in Sam Reston’s bed, her vagina tightened, hard. Oh God, she was so aroused, she could feel the lips of her sex rubbing together as she moved.
This was absolutely new territory for Nicole. Another country altogether. One so far away from her knowledge of herself she could have been on an alien planet.
She couldn’t say anything. Her voice would betray her agitation. She was barely holding on to a semblance of control, trying to keep her breathing regular, but it was all but impossible when she realized they were minutes away from bed.
At the thought, at the heated images in her head of Sam Reston’s broad, naked shoulders above her, dark eyes staring into hers, long legs twined with hers, her vagina clenched again, her stomach muscles pulling sharply.
Heavens, she was minutes from orgasm, just from riding in the car and walking beside this man! Her heart pounded, her knees were weak.
This was ridiculous. Insane. Nicole was not highly sexed. Even in Geneva, footloose and fancy free, with all the money in the world and a city of diplomats and bankers at her feet, she hadn’t dated that much. Certainly hadn’t slept around.
She was hard to please, easily bored. Cool and in control, always.
Not now. This rough former soldier had somehow shaken her so hard she’d come away from her moorings. She was so filled with nervous excitement she had to stop herself from drumming her fingers on her purse.
She looked up, once, then looked away. He was watching her, dark eyes fixed on her, unwavering in his attention. Most women wanted their dates to pay attention to them, but this was way beyond first-date vibes. He was a soldier, and he was fixed on her as if she were a mission.
She’d never been in an enclosed space where the silence had weight and density. The silence felt like a living thing in the cabin, alive and sinuous, thick, snaking around them like an invisible fog.
It robbed her of breath and, obviously, of all common sense because she found she wanted to jump Sam Reston’s bones. It was hard to think of a more un–Nicole-like thought, but there it was.
He exerted a pull she’d never felt before, though it was true she’d never gone out with anyone like him before, either. Her dates up until now had been elegant metrosexuals. Certainly not big and tough like Sam, incapable of playing those sophisticated man-woman games she was so good at. Sam didn’t hide his desire in any way. He wasn’t playing in any way. It was as if his desire were a huge emery board, filing away a layer of her skin until she was rubbed raw.
She chanced another glance up at him then away again, fast. He was still focused on her, jaw muscles jumping, eyes narrowed into slits.
Her heart jumped and she had to remember to breathe.
Nicole stared blindly at the door panel because if she looked at him again, she’d move toward him or reach out to touch him and he looked like he was barely controlling himself. She barely had herself under control. When the doors swooshed open, Sam put a hand to her back and her knees nearly buckled.
A large well-lit expanse of highly-polished hardwood floor stretched out left to right. At each end of the corridor were huge plate-glass floor-to-ceiling windows filled with a crimson glow. One side of the building gave out over the ocean, the other side onto the bay.
Sam took her elbow and moved them right, walking them down to the end of the corridor.
Nicole’s heart was pounding. There wasn’t going to be an hour of sipping whiskey and listening to music while she leisurely decided whether she wanted to take the next step. Once inside his apartment, they were going straight to bed, she could feel it.
Sex pulsed around him like an almost visible aura. As they walked, their eyes met at the same time, then Nicole’s gaze slid away. It was too intense. She was burning up.
She could feel everything, every inch of her body. She was as aroused as she had ever been in her life, after one kiss, the only physical contact his big hand on her elbow.
All she could hear were her own heels, clickety clacking over the hardwood floor, in time with her trip-hammering heart. Sam moved utterly silently, like a huge, dark wraith.
They reached a door on the left-hand side, the side that looked out over the ocean.
He swiped a card down a slot and put his hand on a panel by the side of the door. The panel flashed green and slid open to reveal a keypad. Sam punched in five numbers and with a soft whirring of precision machinery, the door slid into the wall.
Straight ahead was a corridor of broad light-colored maple planks opening onto a large living area. The back wall was glass panels giving out onto a balcony, the sea darkly purple in the distance.
Nicole stood on the threshold, suddenly unable to make a move. Sam stood beside her, waiting.
She looked up at him, dismayed, unable to step forward, unable to go back. Her knees shook. She was suddenly seized with an attack of nerves. Everything about this felt new and scary.
Somehow, he understood. He was so worked up he had an erection like a hammer in his pants, but he didn’t push her over the threshold or take her elbow and walk her through.
He didn’t move.
“Welcome.” The deep voice was soft as he gestured with his arm at the open doorway. He said nothing more, simply waited for her. The unspoken message was very clear. Stepping into his home had to be her choice.
Trembling, feeling as if she were stepping through an invisible barrier into another life, Nicole entered.
The house smelled good—of clean textiles and lemon polish and the sea breeze coming in from an open window, white cotton curtains billowing with the wind coming off the ocean.
A hiss, a metallic whump behind her and the door was closed and locked.
She was in.
She was going to do this.
Oh yes.
The next second her back thumped against the door and Sam Reston’s entire weight was against her as he kissed her wildly. Not the fragile, tentative kiss in his car. Oh no, this was as if he were trying to inhale her, while punching his skin through hers. A deep kiss, wild, going on forever.
Oh God, his taste! Like a fresh mountain stream pumped full of male hormones, calculated to drive any woman wild. His mouth ate at hers, coming at her from various angles, as if one weren’t enough. And it wasn’t.
Her bag plopped to the floor, followed by her jacket.
Nicole could now hold him to her heart’s content, though “holding” was a bland term for what she really wanted to do—crawl into his skin, feel every inch of that hard, delectable body, not with her fingertips but with her whole being. She twined her arms around his neck and arched her back. His chest muscles were so cut, she could feel them through his jacket, shirt, and her dress and bra, hard, ropy ridges of muscle, moving against her. Nicole astonished herself by rubbing against him, for the sheer pleasure of it, and because she was burning up and he seemed to be the only thing that could extinguish the fire.
His penis was hot and hard and huge against her belly and she could feel the pulses running through it against her skin. She tightened her hips, rubbing herself against him, and heard him moan in her mouth. Sam crouched and lifted her with an arm across her bottom, aligning his penis with her mound. She ground against him and the answering pulse of his penis against her made every muscle in her body contract.
Sam growled and leaned into her even more heavily, mouth grinding against hers, hips grinding against hers…
It was unthinkable that there be anything separating them. It was as if they both came to that conclusion together, at the very same instant. She reached up, swept his jacket off those broad shoulders. Her shaking fingers tugged at his tie and before it floated to the ground, she was at his shirt buttons, freeing the round bits of plastic from the eyeholes, pulling the tails out from his pants. She couldn’t take off his shirt because his hands were on her bottom, holding her up, so the shirt fell off his shoulders just enough for her to feel the curly chest hairs and hard muscles of his chest against her. It was maddening that she still had the barriers of her dress and bra between them. She ached to feel him, hard to soft. Absorb some of that strength and heat through her skin.
Sam’s callused hands ran up her thighs, bringing the skirt of her dress up, until he touched her panties. Her very expensive, mauve silk panties which she expected he’d let slither down her legs, like in some perfume ad, once he let her feet touch the floor again.
What happened next happened so fast she couldn’t follow the movements. A ripping sound, a zipping sound, rough fingers opening her up and—oh my God!—he was in her, impossibly hard, impossibly hot, deeper than anyone had ever been before.
They were both frozen, Sam embedded in her while she struggled to accommodate him. She wriggled a little and he surged inside her, so deep the sensitive tissues of her flesh could feel his wiry pubic hairs.
She was filled with sensory input. His penis, buried inside her, his two hard hands holding her bottom, skirt now up to her waist, ruched over his arms, his hard broad chest pinning her against the wall…
Thunk! Sam’s forehead hit the wall beside her.
“Condom,” he groaned, panting like a maddened bull. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He groaned again and she felt his body stiffen, start to pull out.
No!
“Pill,” she gasped and his entire body jerked.
“Oh man,” he breathed. “Bareback.” He pulled out slowly, went back in, an exploratory stroke and groaned. “You feel like a glove.”
“Mm.” Nicole hardly had the breath to respond. He was hot inside her, her entire lower body glowed with heat, but he wasn’t moving. She understood quite well what he was doing—giving her time to adjust to his size. No question, he had a champ of a member there, certainly the biggest she’d ever come across. But he needed to use it, the dummy, instead of simply waiting for her. What did he want? A sign? She’d give him a sign.
Nicole turned her head slightly, nose against his cheek. He smelled so delicious. He’d clearly shaved but there was a slight bite of growing beard against her face as she rubbed her cheek against his. Tentatively, she licked him. She’d been wanting to do that all evening, just to see what he tasted like.
Delicious.
At the touch of her tongue, Sam jerked, but he still held himself quietly inside her, breathing heavily. She wriggled a little and he jumped inside her, there was no other word for it.
She’d started taking the pill several months ago upon doctor’s orders, when stress had caused her to miss several periods. She’d never taken it while sexually active. This was the first time she felt a man’s penis inside her without a latex barrier and it was…wonderful. Intense, almost unbearably intimate.
She opened her mouth and bit him, a sharp nip along his jaw, and it galvanized him.
His big body jerked and he started pounding in her, hard deep strokes which were possible only because she was wet with excitement. The whole evening had been foreplay.
His entire heavy weight was pressed against her, mouth on hers, hips jackhammering. Not the polite, regular strokes of a first-time lover, sounding out what the woman liked. No, these were out of control movements of a man using his entire strength and…she loved it. He must have felt that because, impossibly, he picked up the tempo, moving in and out of her so fast it was a miracle she didn’t go up in smoke from the friction.
It was amazing, and a degree of excitement impossible to sustain. Inside a few minutes, Nicole froze, every muscle in lock-down, as she felt her orgasm approaching, like a thunderstorm on the horizon. She stopped breathing, eyes closed, totally concentrated on where he was pounding into her with hard, heavy strokes. One particularly deep thrust and…oh! Her entire body convulsed, vagina tightening around him, arms and legs clinging tightly, wanting to feel him as close as possible.
Her breath came out in a low, ragged moan, stuttering in time to his sharp thrusts, faster now and harder, until he swelled inside her and exploded.
Oh my God! She could feel the jets of semen splashing against her supersensitive walls, a hot, rhythmic wash inside her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, so exciting it prolonged her orgasm. She tightened around him in an erotic rhythm that matched the pulses of his own orgasm, the feeling so intense she nearly blacked out.
It had been like running a marathon. Nicole’s head batted back against the wall because she didn’t have the strength to keep it upright. Her arms dropped, unable to cling to those broad shoulders anymore. Her legs were still around his hips, but they were trembling.
Her entire groin area was wet and the smell of sex rose, sharp and earthy, from where they were joined.
“Oh,” she breathed, unable to form anything more coherent.
“Yeah,” Sam grunted. “I know. Hold on tight, honey.”
What…? Oh. Sam tightened his grip on her bottom, pulled them away from the wall and walked them through the house, still joined. He was still rock hard inside her, as if he hadn’t climaxed at all, rubbing against her incredibly sensitive tissues as he carried her.
He was kissing her, carrying her as if she were weightless, straight into the bedroom. There was still a little light outside and she opened her eyes enough to get an impression of space and Spartan order, then he kissed her again and the outside world was gone.
She had no idea how he did it, but when he eased her down on the bed, they were both naked. He was still inside her, and now he was on top with his full weight bearing down on her. It was so delicious, feeling his hard muscles against hers, chest hairs rubbing against her breasts. He opened strong, hairy thighs, opening her own legs much wider, and slid even more deeply inside her.
He nuzzled her ear with his nose, dropped light kisses all over her face and neck. In between kisses he whispered to her.
“That was too fast, I’m really sorry. I want you to know that I do have some moves in me, just not right now.”
She barely heard him, concentrated on where they were touching, on where he filled her. But at the word moves, her vagina contracted around him. His penis lengthened inside her.
“That’s one of them, right there,” she sighed.
He laughed, a charming low male rumble. “Oh yeah.”
He wasn’t moving, allowing her to come back a little to herself. She smoothed a hand over the ball of his shoulder. His skin was so hot and hard. Warm steel. She frowned as her fingers met thick, rough skin. A scar. A round scar.
Her eyes fluttered open, only to see his an inch away. Deep, dark eyes, staring into hers. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.
He gave a short, brusque nod.
“Are there any others?”
“Low on my hip, missed vital organs by a hair. Right biceps, flesh wound, but it hurt like hell.”
She touched each one as he mentioned them. The wound low down on his hip was big, ugly, with thick ridges of scar tissue. She frowned as he kissed her.
“You had a really lousy surgeon.”
He shook his head, nipped her jaw. “Field dressing. We were way out to hell and gone. Took me a week to get back to a hospital. Navy offered plastic surgery, but frankly, I never want to see another needle again in my life.”
Nicole stroked his sides. He hadn’t led a charmed life, this man. He’d walked into danger, probably more times than he could ever tell her. A few inches to the left or right, and he’d have bled out. She’d never have met him, never have realized what her body was capable of feeling.
Lifting her head a little, she kissed him, gently. As if he were still hurting from his wounds. Sam took control of the kiss immediately, mouth open over hers, tongue stroking hers in time with the strokes of his hips.
He began moving heavily in her, faster and faster, and she curled her hands under his arms, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. Sam wrenched his mouth away from hers with a gasp and buried his face in her hair and she closed her eyes and arched her neck.
He was right. They couldn’t kiss right now. It was too much.
Sam lifted her knees, moving impossibly deeper, touching something…Nicole came with a wild cry, clenching tightly around him, shaking and shuddering, sweating, tears leaking out of her eyes, the climax so intense she lost herself for long moments, spinning way out in space, coming back to herself only when Sam grunted and started coming inside her, long, hot spurts of semen bathing her sheath.
He was moving inside her with enormous ease now. She was incredibly wet, full of his juices and hers. Time stretched, became meaningless.
He stilled finally while Nicole drifted lazily on waves of pleasure. She was incredibly sweaty, but it was more his sweat than hers. Their chests were stuck together, she discovered as she pushed at his shoulders. Her entire groin area was sopping wet, including her thighs. Her vagina was sore, super-sensitized. She could feel every inch of his penis, still hard inside her. Her muscles felt lax, unable to work.
She felt…wonderful. She’d be floating if she didn’t have his enormous weight on top of her. She pushed at his shoulders again and with an aggrieved sigh, he lifted himself up on his forearms and smiled down at her.
A tiny forelock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead and she reached up a hand to smooth it back.
“Are you hungry?” he asked and she was about ready to answer, No, of course not, we just ate, when her stomach rumbled, loudly.
“Apparently, I am.” This was amazing. They’d had a full meal and yet, consulting her stomach, she realized she was famished.
Sam dropped a kiss on her nose and pulled out of her. So slowly it was arousing. If that hadn’t done the trick, seeing him standing by the side of the bed naked would have been enough to turn her on.
Though he was huge, he was lean with it, perfectly proportioned, graceful and strong. And—whew!—hung.
For the first time, Nicole was able to appreciate his, um, attributes. Amazingly, after coming twice, he was still aroused. His penis, glistening with their juices, a dark suede color, with big veins running up it, nearly reached his navel.
Sam reached down to encircle her ankle for a second. “I’ll bring you something out on the terrace. We’re going to need some fuel for round two.”
Sam nearly laughed at her expression. She was ready to call it quits, but he wasn’t. Not even close. He was as revved as he’d ever been in his life.
Man, just looking at her, there on his bed…like some seventeenth-century painting. Just the colors of her would be enough to wake a dead man. Midnight black hair; porcelain skin; red, red lips, slightly swollen from his kisses. Cherry red nipples, cloud of soft black hair between her thighs.
She glistened, from her sweat and his. From his come, from her girl juices. She hadn’t moved an inch after he’d pulled out. She looked as if she were fucking some phantom lover—legs bent and apart, so wide open to him he could see the puffy, deep pink tissues of her cunt, arms still outstretched, eyes half closed as if still kissing him. He wanted to climb back onto her, slide right back into her. He wanted that so hard he clenched his fists.
But she needed food. Sam was used to pushing himself, but she wouldn’t be.
He watched her as her eyelids slowly lowered until there was only a sliver of that amazing blue, watched as her breathing slowed, watched as the wild heartbeat over her left breast beat less frantically.
Shit, even looking at her was better than fucking anyone else.
That was a scary thought. He left it behind and went to the kitchen to scrabble for food. He didn’t cook much but his housekeeper sometimes left him things and there was always fruit.
Five minutes later, he was carrying a big tray out onto the balcony, pleased with what he was able to scrounge up. A big plate of grapes, a couple of slices of cheese that, miraculously, had no mold on them. Half a loaf of frozen whole wheat bread he nuked in the microwave.
Two stem glasses and a bottle of really good Chilean sauvignon blanc. She’d know how to pronounce it. He placed the tray on the wrought-iron-and-glass table outside and debated whether to turn on the outside terrace lights. It was dark outside, maybe around midnight. They’d been fucking for three hours straight. He switched on one of the halogen lights, just enough for them to see the food by, not enough for a boat out on the ocean to see what they were doing.
Sam looked out over the dark ocean, then down at himself, at his boner that simply wouldn’t quit. He had plenty of stamina but after a couple of hours, he was ordinarily ready to call it quits. Drive the lady home. Relax.
He wasn’t anywhere near that point with Nicole. Couldn’t even imagine it.
He was in deepest shit, he reflected, as he went back into the bedroom to carry her out to the terrace.