CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I put my arms around his neck and pull him to me. Our lips meet with a crash. Then his hands are all over me, and we’re stumbling into the bedroom.
I imagined our first encounter together would be soft and hesitant, both of us fumbling around and shy, but boy, was I wrong. His hands are everywhere . . . my bottom, chest, my stomach, between my legs . . . his fingers sliding along my most intimate parts.
I’m out of my clothes in a matter of seconds, and I don’t even realize how it happened. I’m naked, and so is he. We’re sitting at the edge of his bed, touching each other all over, kissing, licking, both of us moaning. His hand is on my rear end pulling me toward him, his arousal strong and hard.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask. If he doesn’t, I do, but I’m going to hate having to run into the other room to get it.
He reaches over and yanks on a drawer, pulling it out completely. Several condoms fall to the floor along with various other things. He bends down to grab a foil packet, quickly ripping it open.
I stroke him while he removes the condom and throws the packaging off to the side. He pauses to kiss me some more before putting it on.
His fingers move across my thigh and slide down into my folds. “Are you ready for me?”
I hold his face in my hands, breathing heavily through my arousal. “I have never been more ready for someone in my entire life.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He pushes me backward and I fall across the bed. I scoot over to make room for him. He joins me, his giant body looming over mine. I rub my hands over his chest, looking up at him. When I see the ragged look of his face and tear-swollen eyes, a brief flash of guilt hits me. Am I taking advantage of a man who’s too full of sadness to make good decisions?
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, breathing heavily, praying he won’t say no.
“I was just going to ask you the same thing.” He lowers himself slowly down to me, the muscles of his arms bulging with the effort. I close my eyes in a mixture of relief and pleasure as I realize he’s giving me his answer. He’s sure.
He goes slowly, gently pushing against and into me. My body is slick down there, but he’s big and it’s been a really long time for me.
“You are so tight,” he says with a hiss.
“You’re too big,” I say, and not just to pump his ego.
“Here, let me help you.” He lifts one of my legs, spreading me open. He eases in a bit and then out, very gently, teasing away the tension I was feeling, making it easier for both of us. My hips start to move with him, welcoming his thrusts and opening for him.
When he’s finally buried to the hilt, we moan together in pleasure and relief. He stays that way for several seconds, pausing to kiss me for a bit before pulling out and burying himself inside me again. The super-slow rhythm he’s using is killing me. I know I should probably just relax and enjoy it, but I’m having trouble doing that. The sensations are building too quickly. I’ve never been in such a hurry to reach orgasm before.
“It’s been a while for me,” he says, grunting with the effort of speaking and exercising extreme control over his movements. “I’m not going to last very long; you feel too good.” His eyes are closed and the muscles in his face show the tremendous strain he’s under.
Just hearing those words excites me even more, and I was already half over the moon. “Don’t worry about me,” I say breathlessly. “I’m ready to go too.”
He picks up his rhythm and I join him. With each thrust he delivers, my hips rise off the bed, taking his force and pulling it in. I hold on to him, my body rocking faster and faster as we seek climax together. I’m so close, a warm, tickling sensation building between my legs.
Sweat rolls down his face and drips onto my chest. “I’m so close, babe. I can’t hold it anymore.”
I grab his back, holding on for dear life. “Come for me, Sam. Let go.”
His body starts to tremble as he thrusts forward hard against me, three . . . four . . . then five times. His back arches and he shouts. My nails score his back and ribs as he slams into me over and over again and I try to hang on.
I wasn’t expecting the strength of his lovemaking or the effect it would have on me. The end takes me by surprise, his body and movements somehow managing to rip the orgasm out of me. I scream as my world crashes in on me and then explodes outward.
He pulsates inside me as he comes to the end of the line, giving me chills from the inside out. All I can think is, Thank God he was wearing protection, or I would’ve surely gotten pregnant. I can’t believe what we just did together; it was so incredible. I’ve never come this quickly in my life, and never with a man this amazing in bed.
Sam’s movements finally slow to a stop. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe, propped up on his elbows above me. I pull in a long breath of air, hoping to calm myself down. It feels like I just ran a race around the entire city.
“Damn, girl,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. His beard tickles my face and neck. “Sorry, I’m sweaty.” He leans away.
“Come back here,” I say, pulling his face down and forcing him to kiss me again. Our tongues tangle together, and the connection between us deepens. I feel something growing hard between my legs and realize he’s getting another erection.
I stop and look down between us. “Are you kidding me?”
He chuckles. “I can’t help it. You’re hot.”
I push on his chest until he rolls over. “Get outta here.” I have never in my life been called hot by anyone. It makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.
He sits up and busies himself with removing the used condom and putting it down on the nightstand. I’m on my back, and he joins me on his side, tracing circles around my breasts. The air that’s blowing over us from the air-conditioning vent above feels amazing.
“That was cool,” he finally says.
“Yeah. Cool.” I giggle.
“What are you laughing at?” He leans in and snuggles my neck with that fluffy weirdo beardo of his, making me laugh harder.
“Stop. You’re going to make me get goose bumps.”
“So? I like goose bumps,” he mumbles in my neck.
“They’ll make the hair on my legs grow,” I whine, pretending to try and push him away. I’m not using much force, though.
He pauses for a minute. “What?”
“I said you need to stop, or you’re going to make the hair on my legs grow.”
He lifts the covers at my waist to look at my legs. “You shave your legs? I thought hippies lived au naturel.”
I grab the covers from his hand and yank them over my body. “Not this hippie.”
He leans down again and kisses me gently. “I was just kidding.”
“Okay. I forgive you.”
“Forgive me for what?”
I sigh in fake frustration. “For making the hair on my legs grow.”
He takes a few moments to push the sweaty hair off my forehead and the side of my face. “So what do you think of LA?” he asks.
He’s trying to act like this is a casual question, but I know better. I can tell by the way his jaw is tensing that my answer matters.
“Do you want me to be honest?”
His lips press together for a few seconds before he answers. “Always. Never say something that’s not totally true just because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”
I take a deep breath before I give him my answer. I know it will complicate things between us. “Well, it’s a little warm, and I’m not a fan of the traffic.”
“Me neither.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“You mean the heat or the traffic?”
“Yes.”
“Both.”
I frown at him. “If you don’t like it, why do you live here?”
One of his shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “Don’t know. Maybe because it was far away.”
“Far away from your parents?”
“Far away from my father.”
I reach up and brush a sweat droplet from his temple. “Tell me about him.”
Sam gets a pained expression. “Do I have to?”
I pinch his cheek. “No, you don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.” Not today, anyway . . . but someday.
He falls back onto the bed with a sigh. “Okay, fine. Twist my arm.”
I can’t stop smiling.
“My father was a dick of the highest degree.”
“The highest degree, huh? That’s pretty bad.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. He drank a lot. And when he drank a lot, he punched a lot.”
“Oh. Damn. My sister didn’t tell me that.”
He looks at me sideways. “Your sister tells you all of Ty’s secrets?”
“Not all of them, apparently. She told me that he had a difficult relationship with his father. I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.”
Sam is on his back staring at the ceiling, casually stroking his abdomen with his hands as he speaks. “Yeah, he was abusive, but it wasn’t the worst part of our relationship.”
“How could that not be the worst part?” I turn my head to look at him more fully. Seeing his sad face makes me want to envelop him in another one of my hugs, but I don’t want to stop him from telling me his story. I feel as though I’m acting as his therapist right now.
“He was bound and determined to make us famous.”
“Famous as musicians?”
“Yeah. He put instruments in our hands when we were just babies. That’s why Sadie doesn’t have a guitar.”
“Because you don’t want her to learn to play?”
“No, it’s not that. I’d love for her to learn, but I want it to be her idea, not mine.”
“You feel like your father forced you into becoming a musician?”
“He absolutely did, there’s no question about it. I had no choice in the matter.”
“Well, you have a choice now.” I wait for his answer. It’s a long time coming.
“Not really,” he finally says.
“What do you mean? Is he still making you do it?”
He frowns. “No, nothing like that. He’s not a part of my life.”
“Then what is it?” I nudge him with my elbow. “Tell me.”
“He’s always there in my head, you know?” He looks at me briefly before continuing. “He’s in there telling me I have a talent that God gave me and I need to use it. That the world is waiting for all the things I’m going to create. That I need to support my family with what God gave me and not be selfish.”
“Was he a good supporter? For the family? Was that a big thing for your father?”
“Yeah, I guess . . . if the only measure of being a good supporter is how much money you bring in. He did okay. But he spent half of it on booze, and he spent the other half shoving Ty and me into music careers.”
“Not that I’m saying your dad was right or anything, because I believe you when you say he’s a dick, but it did seem to work out pretty well for Ty, right?”
“I don’t know. Did it?” He looks at me intently.
I shrug. “To be honest, I don’t really know him. He’s been a fan of Red Hot his whole life. That’s what my sister told me, anyway. And now he’s playing with them.”
“Yeah, that much is true.” Sam sighs, back to looking at the ceiling. “I’m a fan too. Don’t get me wrong . . . don’t think I don’t love the music. I do love it. And I do love playing the guitar. It’s just . . . I don’t know.”
I try to help him out. “It’s just that it was never your idea. The person who put the idea in your brain is not somebody you respect.”
He turns over on his side to face me fully. “Exactly. I’ve never been able to really acknowledge that to myself or put it into words before, but that’s exactly how I feel. It’s like somebody else is pulling the strings in my life. Like I’m just my father’s puppet.”
“But you love the music and you love the guitar,” I say, ready to test out a theory.
“Yeah. I do, but . . .”
“I think maybe you just need a change of perspective.”
“What do you mean?” Sam starts playing with my breasts, gently drawing shapes on them with the tip of his finger, causing my nipples to harden.
I wiggle a little, trying to get comfortable, but the sexual arousal he’s bringing up in me is making it pretty difficult. I push his hand away so I can finish my thought. “You’ve always looked at music through your father’s eyes, as something you had to do, that you’re forced to do because you were given a gift. But maybe if you could see it in a different way, it wouldn’t have all those terrible, negative feelings attached to it.”
“Maybe.” He leans in to kiss me. His lips are warm, and his tongue is soft and hot.
“Are we done talking about this?” I ask, smiling against his kiss.
“I think so. I’ve got something better in mind, if you’re interested.” His tongue comes out to tangle with mine some more.
I grab him and hold him close. “What’s that?” I ask as he moves his lips from my jawline down to my neck and then my chest.
“This weirdo with the beardo wants to sex you up again.”
I start giggling. “I am so sorry I called you that. You’re not a weirdo.”
He sits up on his elbows above me. “Oh, don’t worry. I know my beard is weird. I keep it because Sadie likes it.” He uses it to brush my chin.
“You’re a nice daddy.” I grab his face and pull him down to me. “Now kiss me and sex me up, would you?”
“With pleasure,” he growls.