It was almost dark, and from across the yard, near the grill, Colt watched his childhood friend. Drew was soaking up the attention of a gaggle of the younger neighborhood women.
It was always that way when he came home. They swarmed around Drew like vultures surrounding a fresh carcass. But, Colt had to admit, he looked like he was keeping fit.
Some dudes went over there across the ocean and got lazy, and fat. They screwed their fill of European chicks, ate rich foods, and settled into the realization that while they’d get decent bank from the game, their NBA glory days were most likely never going to come to fruition. Once Colt was drafted, and Drew left to play for the European League, their friendship, by then hanging by a thread, snapped altogether. Distance, and the sharpness of what used to be friendly rivalry overwhelmed the ‘friendly’ part of their relationship.
There was a time, a golden moment when Colt and Drew were seventeen and just about neck-and-neck in the game. Colt was ahead most of the time, but by no more than a hair. They’d been good friends. Almost as close as brothers. Sure, there had been a few bumpy moments, but overall, they were good. They made each other work harder, play better.
Then they went to college. The Hoyas recruited Colt, and Drew went to Clemson. They talked all the time, even then, exchanging their stats and trading notes on girls. But around junior year, it was clear that Colt was pulling far ahead, Drew falling way behind. Things changed after that, edging farther away from friendship, and closer to rivalry.
Across the yard, Drew was laughing at something. Next to him, Colt’s cousin, Shay was leaning in close, her copious breasts darn near spilling out of her blouse, which—unless Colt was mistaken, had been buttoned up almost to the neck just a few hours ago. But Drew wasn’t paying attention to the tits. Maybe he was listening to Shay, somewhat; but he kept glancing off to his left, a little over his shoulder, like he was distracted.
Colt followed Drew’s gaze, and saw that it was directed at the far end of the yard, where most of the women were sitting around a table full of desserts. Colt’s mother was holding court, and sitting next to her was Sam’s mother, Maxine, who had only just made an appearance a half hour earlier, carrying a pie. Now they were all drinking coffee, passing slices of the pie and cackling about the kinds of things women found amusing when they were en masse.
And next to Maxine, was Sam. She was smiling with the other women and outlining her lips with the tip of a nail. She did that thing with her lips when she was bored. Bored, but trying to look interested and engaged. Her smile was shallow. She wasn’t even there.
For a few moments, Colt was so occupied with watching Sam, he almost forgot about Drew. Drew was still with Shay, still looking over his shoulder every once in a while, still glancing to his left.
Colt’s eyes narrowed. It only took a few moments for him to confirm what he already knew. The reason Drew kept looking back was wearing a swishy mini-dress—yellow with little white flowers all over. Sam.
By the time they got out of there, it was well past ten, but Sam didn’t complain. She followed Colt out to his SUV, carrying a large plate, heaped with food, covered in cling wrap, and a second dish with a large helping of the pie her mother had baked. No one made anything of the fact that she and Colt left together, because they almost always did when there were Green family functions.
“Is it terrible that as soon as you take me home I’m going to reheat this food and eat it?” Sam asked when Colt had finally maneuvered out of the still clogged cul-de-sac, and onto the main road.
“Let’s go to my spot,” Colt said.
“Fine. But I’m still going to eat it. Except for maybe the pie. I might save that for tomorrow morning to have with coffee. My mother makes the best pies. But don’t tell your mom I said so.”
She felt drowsy and satisfied and refreshed in the way she always did after coming from an event where the faces of her childhood were present. The only unexpected was seeing Drew, but once Colt cut in, they hadn’t spoken privately for the rest of the evening. When Sam looked around for him, he was almost always occupied with someone; but twice, they’d caught each other looking at the same time.
One of those times, Drew winked at her, his smile playful. But the second time, he’d just stared, and Sam’s stomach did a little dance. She had tried not to look for him again after that.
Next to her, Colt seemed pensive. Usually, after one of these things, he was sharing family gossip, or recounting something crazy that happened. This time though, there was no craziness, so maybe nothing to gossip about. Everyone in the Green family had been on their best behavior. No one had gotten too drunk, or started a fight, or insulted anyone else’s potato salad or rum cake.
That was because everyone was getting old, Sam thought. All the womanizing uncles were more settled, content to play dominoes, cards, or chess. And no one was eyeing anyone else’s ‘lady-of-the-moment’ in a lascivious manner. Now they were all coupled up in comfortable, permanent, or semi-permanent arrangements; the old feuds no longer seemed worth reviving, the old rivalries no longer as important.
“It’s weird seeing how much older everyone is, right?” Sam said, speaking her thoughts.
“Yeah, well that’s what happens. People get older.” Colt sounded distracted.
“I know. But it’s still funny thinking about way back in the day. Remember when your parents first bought that house? And everyone was so upset about it because you all were leaving the block? Even though it’s just five miles away?”
“Yeah,” Colt said.
“How old were we then? Like eleven? And once we realized there was an in-ground pool …” Sam laughed, “I think we got over you moving. And those intimate little cookouts your mom used to have turned into block parties.”
The pool had been filled in years ago though, when the Greens realized that they seldom used it any longer. Now, it was home to a large bed of Mrs. Green’s beautiful tea roses. And besides, there was no longer a gang of Colt’s friends and cousins who wanted to stop by all summer long to laze around next to it, swimming, and listening to music.
Everyone had grown up, and most of their circle of friends had moved on to new cities, and new lives. Those were amazing days, though. Most of Sam’s memories of her teen years were laced with the scent of chlorine, coconut oil, and cherry Kool-Aid.
The summer Sam turned sixteen, she bought a white two-piece swimsuit. She remembered going with her mother to pick it out and having to argue her way into getting something that wasn’t the standard demure one-piece. Her mother had come into the changing room with her, much to Sam’s embarrassment. Once she tried the suit—which wasn’t exactly a bikini—Maxine had walked around her, tugging at the bottoms, making sure that Sam was adequately covered “back there.”
And even though she’d bought it after a little cajoling, Sam remembered her mother’s furrowed brow, and how troubled she looked. She shelled out the money to the cashier reluctantly, like she was considering if she had crossed a line, and whether it would be impossible after this to go back to the other side of it.
That was the summer that Colt started dating Mercy Edwards, whose body was so well-developed, she didn’t need to be in a swimsuit to get the boys looking. Before Colt started dating her, he and Drew would snicker a little as she walked by, and go, ‘Mercy!’, not to her, but to each other, using her name as an exclamation, and an expression of appreciation for her womanly assets.
It was also the summer Colt started having sex. Not that he told Sam that he had. She just noticed. She could have almost pinpointed the exact day it happened, because immediately afterward, he touched Mercy in a new way, that was more possessive, less tentative. His hand lingered on her butt, played with the edges of Mercy’s plain light-blue swimsuit, near her hip, but closer to her front. And the way they kissed was deeper, longer, and more soulful.
By the time they all started school in the fall, Mercy was history, but Sam still remembered those lingering touches, and the pangs it had caused her to witness them.
Though it was late now, it took them almost half an hour to get to Colt’s place in Takoma Park. It was a more than three-thousand-square-foot modern home on a block full of young families and high-achieving singles. Colt’s house stood out because it was architecturally distinct from all the others. It had been built by a renowned DC architect, known for his focus on what he called “organic modernism”—using as much natural and reclaimed material as possible, and designing structures that bent to the topography, rather than altered it.
Colt’s almost two-million-dollar home featured a two-story living room, floor-to-ceiling windows in every room, radiant-heated bamboo floors, and a grand, gourmet kitchen. It was a showpiece of a house, good for parties but with more space than Colt would ever use until he started a family.
Sam wasn’t even sure he liked the house that much, though he had been excited enough to buy it with part of his signing bonus. She had teased him at the time that it was his ‘image-booster’ and as time went on, she became more convinced it was true. After all, he seemed to like lazing around at her place much more than he did here.
As soon as they pulled up, the lights in the car port switched on, and Sam stretched and groaned, trying to rouse herself from her semi-comatose, full-bellied state. Before she could move, Colt had gotten out, walked around the vehicle and opened the door for her.
She climbed out, yawning, wondering whether she would make it long enough to eat the plate of food Colt took from her hands. He let them in by punching the code in the keyless entry lock, and the front door disengaged with a soft click.
Inside, there were more codes to enter, to disarm the alarm system and then to turn on lights.
“Your house is ridiculous,” Sam murmured sleepily. “You know that, don’t you?”
At that, Colt turned and grinned at her, his pensive mood momentarily receding.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
He took the plate into the kitchen while Sam slid off her sandals and padded barefoot down the steps to the den. The word ‘den’ suited it perfectly. It was large, but appeared cozy, with massive, overstuffed couches, plush carpeting, and tufted leather walls. Only a man would have chosen wallcoverings that looked like something suited for BDSM play, but Sam had to admit, it also created the appearance of warmth, and made her feel ensconced.
“Colt, are you going to reheat that plate for me?”
Sam called up to him while she arranged herself on one of the large sofas and reached for the remote control to turn on the entertainment system. The large screen tv lit up from within, and a picture materialized. It was on NBA TV. Of course. Sam changed to a fashion designing competition show and settled in.
Watching television here was almost like going to the movies, especially when the lights were off. She hugged a sofa cushion and got comfortable, planning to curl into a little ball and wait to be served. But just then, Colt came into view. He, too, had taken off his shoes, but was empty-handed.
“I thought you were bringing my plate,” Sam said pouting.
“You don’t need all that. Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Colt lowered himself next to her and snatched the remote from her unresisting fingers. Expecting him to change the channel back to sports, she was surprised when he instead turned the tv off altogether.
“Colt, wh …”
“C’mere,” he said. He reached for her.
She had a history. Of course, she had her own sexual history. Nothing too colorful probably, because, hell, this was Sam he was talking about.
But she wasn’t Little Sam anymore. She was grown, and had a tight little body, curvy in all the right places despite weighing probably no more than a-buck-twenty. And she was cute as hell with those full, perpetually-puckered lips and rounded eyes that seemed stuck in an expression of mild surprise. Sam was nice-looking, with an almost prissy exterior that would always attract a certain kind of bad-boy who wanted to peel back all the layers of primness and find out whether there might be a little wildness beneath.
Colt was curious about that his-damn-self. And tonight, felt like high time to find out.
When the tv went off, she turned to look at him, all wide-eyed, fake-irritated, and poised to complain when he pulled her toward him. Then the complaints ceased, because he was kissing her. It was crazy how easily they had crossed this line, and crazy that they hadn’t done it sooner. Because kissing her felt like something they had always done, though they never had until just weeks ago.
Sam twisted her mouth free of his, shoving against his chest until he sat back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, praying she wasn’t going to ask him to stop.
“Nothing,” Sam said. Then she hoisted her hips up a little, reaching beneath her prissy summer dress with both hands and grappling with something. It took Colt a moment to realize what she was doing, and when he did, his dick woke up.
Sam blithely removed her black panties and tossed them over her shoulder. She didn’t even smile. She looked as serious as a heart attack. She climbed on top of and astride him, resting her weight on her knees and grabbing his face before kissing him again.
Last time she was as bold as this she’d been drinking. She’d been drinking a lot, so Colt assumed that her assertiveness was purely a product of that. But, no. Sam, once she was turned on, was a woman who seemed to know exactly what she wanted and wasn’t shy about taking it.
Suddenly his jeans felt much too restrictive. Colt reached down, planning to loosen his fly when the backs of his fingers instead encountered the wetness between Sam’s legs.
She moaned into his mouth, so he explored further, using his thumb to touch her, until she was even more slick, and writhing against his hand. Pushing two fingers inside her, he continued stroking until Sam was a quivering mass. Their lips remained joined, and their tongues became more frantic, almost matching the pace at which Sam was riding his hand. He could feel her liquifying further and knew that she was damn close. But when she came, Colt wanted to see her face, so he pulled his lips free of hers and instead watched as he gave her her first orgasm of the evening.
Her mouth opened into a silent scream, her eyes were tightly shut, and she thrust her chest forward. Never one to let an opportunity pass, Colt slid aside one of the straps of her dress and leaned into her, to capture an exposed nipple. That was it. Sam’s silent scream was silent no more.
As she came down from her high, he kept his hand where it was, feeling her body squeezing and releasing his fingers, as if keeping time with the rhythmic beat of her heart. His other hand up was under her dress, and clutching her ass, holding her against him. Finally, Sam eased herself off his hand and exhaled, giving a little grimace. Letting her head fall forward she rested her forehead in the space between his neck and shoulder and was, for a few moments, very still. She didn’t speak, so Colt, as well, said nothing.
Just as he thought she might be going to sleep—some women always did, directly after they came—he felt her tongue on his neck, tracing a slow, winding pattern; and then her lips, gently nipped at his flesh.
“Let me take care of you now,” Sam said, her voice breathy and hoarse.
Colt’s dick, already rock-hard, seemed to grow even harder at the sound of those words.
Sam was still doing her thing at his neck, at the same time reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it upward. When it was up at his arms, she pulled away, only long enough to get it over his head. She didn’t wait for him to do it, she didn’t ask him to do it, she did it herself, like it was her right.
Moving down, his chest, she kept kissing as she went, pausing a few times to savor a patch of skin here and there, brushing her lips against him, then stroking him with tip of her tongue.
Colt put his hands up, and on her head, and Sam moved them aside as if objecting to any restraints whatsoever, pinning them at his side. She only released him when she got to the waistband of his jeans. There, she lingered for a while, teasing along the edge of the fabric, using her teeth to grab it, and only after a torturous few minutes of play, loosened the fly with her fingers.
By then Colt’s head was swimming; he was dizzy with anticipation. And with confusion, too, because whoever this woman was, she wasn’t the Sam he thought he knew. This woman was a sexual virtuoso, a libertine.
She yanked at the waist, wrenching his jeans and boxers free at the same time, and Colt looked down, just in time to see as Sam’s lips closed around him. After that, he didn’t see squat. He tried to watch, but his eyes kept closing on him, and rolling sightlessly back into his head. And even if they didn’t, he was sure he would have been blind with pleasure.
Sam wasn’t shy about grabbing and holding him, she wasn’t hesitant about trying to get him—all of him—in her mouth. She licked and sucked and squeezed and pulled. She wasn’t trying to coax an orgasm out of him, she was demanding it.
Part of Colt resisted the idea of the first time being him getting off like this. But it was hella-sexy, the way she seemed to be into it.
This is for me, her hand and mouth seemed to say. This isn’t for you. This is for me.
When he erupted, his ass lifted clear off the sofa, but Sam didn’t even flinch. She grabbed him, and held on, and continued sucking and licking. Colt felt every motion of her still greedy mouth, and the smooth, yet rough surface of her tongue.
Sam was curled into the sofa cushion, sleeping with an expression of perfect, angelic peace. Her dress was hiked up a little in the back, exposing the curve of her ass. Colt stood there, her plate of food in hand and stared. She hadn’t fallen asleep after her orgasm, but she had conked out almost directly after his.
When he had still been sitting there, waiting for his brain to restart, Sam had climbed up onto the sofa from her position on her knees in front of him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“How ‘bout now?” she’d asked, her tone perfectly casual. “Now, will you reheat that plate for me?”
So, what the hell was he to do but go reheat her plate? He needed to get away from her for a minute, just to pull himself together.
As good as it had been, Colt was low-key pissed-off, like she had been hiding something fundamental about who she was from him. Where the hell had Sam—Sam!—learned to suck a dick like that? Seriously, where had she learned how to do that?
And more importantly, with whom?
His mind fidgeted with that question while he was standing in front of the microwave waiting for her food, and by the time it was done, Colt decided he would just straight-up ask her. But when he got back down to the den, Sam was already asleep.
Colt set the plate down, and watched her, a pool of sourness and jealousy beginning to settle in his gut. The crazy part was that he didn’t even know at what, or at whom the jealousy was directed.
“Hey,” he said.
She couldn’t be that deeply asleep. He had been gone only a few minutes.
But Sam didn’t stir.
“Hey,” he said again, this time a little louder.
She made purring noise, and hugged the cushion closer, then turned her head, opening her eyes and regarding him, then smiling a sleepy smile.
“Hmm?” she asked.
“Don’t sleep here,” Colt said. He sounded terse, so he added more. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Okay,” Sam said. She shoved herself to a sitting position and glanced at the food he’d brought her. “Oh,” she said. “I can’t eat all that, now, Colt. It’s too late.”
She sounded incredulous, like she hadn’t been the one to send him on the errand in the first place. Like it hadn’t been less than fifteen minutes ago that she had done so.
Then she got up, and not looking back, headed for the stairs.
By the time Colt had taken the food back to the kitchen, wrapped it in plastic once again, put it away, secured the house, and joined Sam in his bedroom, she was legitimately asleep, burrowed into the covers on his messy, unmade bed.
It took him much longer to succumb, and when he did, it was a shallow, restless sleep.
He opened his eyes right away when, what felt like much later, he felt Sam’s hand moving along his sternum.
“Colt,” she said into the pitch blackness of the room.
“Yeah?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“I fell asleep on you.”
“Yeah. It’s a’ight,” he said. He put his hand over hers, then ran his fingertips along her forearm, feeling the goosebumps rise on the surface of it.
Turning onto his side, he pulled Sam into the spooning position, intending that they both fall back asleep that way. But Sam had something else in mind. She reached back and down, fumbling with his boxers, pulling him through the opening and taking him in her hand.
Colt could see almost nothing, but felt her hand, soft and velvety as she stroked him, and heard her breath quickening.
Putting his hands up, he shoved the neckline of the dress she was still wearing aside, and with one arm beneath her, the other over her, cupped her breasts from behind. Soon, the breaths he heard were his own. Kissing the back of Sam’s neck, Colt released her breasts only long enough to shove his boxers all the way down and off.
Sam didn’t speak, but reached for him again, and this time, pushing her ass backward against him, she lifted her leg, and guided him inside her.
It happened so fast, there was no time to consider that they had no protection. And the truth was, he didn’t care. He needed it to be like this with Sam. Totally raw.
It took him a few moments to get completely inside her. She tensed with each forward push, so he waited until she comfortably accommodated him. When she did, and his chest was pressed flush against her back, he felt her heartbeat. They both held still, both examining the feeling.
After what happened in the den, Colt would have thought they would have gone buck-wild. Now, he knew for sure that Sam was certainly capable of it. But instead, they remained motionless for a long while, and then slowly, softly, quietly, they moved. Colt shifted the arm that was beneath her, sliding it downward and putting his hand between her legs, teasing the bundle of nerves between her thighs.
Gasping, Sam put both her hands over his, pressing it harder against her, as her hips moved forward and back, and he alternately slid deep inside and pulled almost completely out of her.
When they came, it was quiet. Colt was jerking against Sam, as the spasms of her body held and grabbed him.
They didn’t speak at all, and they didn’t pull away from each other afterward. Colt’s heart was still pounding hard, still feeling like it might jump out of his chest. Within moments, he heard a soft snore which told him that Sam had once again, fallen asleep.