Chapter Eight
Bury Him
Sam led us directly to my room, no discussion over “yours” or “mine”.
Decisive.
He was not wasting any time.
But by the time we got there, I was not so sure about “us” anymore.
In fact, I’d convinced myself this was all a huge mistake.
And I’d convinced myself of this because I’d had one lover.
Cooter.
And I found out that morning, just with the little I did with Sam, that Cooter wasn’t very good at what he did and even with experience with me and whoever else he slept with along the way, he didn’t get any better. And this was true even before he started hitting me which made me want nothing to do with my husband touching me.
The sorry fact was, I never really enjoyed sex with Cooter. I tried but never got there. We had our moments, sure. But they were few and they caused no fireworks. Sparklers, maybe, but those sputtered out and died.
There was a pocket of time I tried to be all I could be for Cooter in bed in hopes that would make him happy enough so he would be less inclined to get pissed and take it out on me.
This did not work and I quit trying.
But it stood to reason that Cooter went to Vanessa and any of the other women he might or might not have cheated on me with those times he was late home because it was actually me who wasn’t good at it. I was not his first but he was my first and only and he didn’t exactly take his time to teach me nor did he make our bed a safe place to learn.
And it was clear with the first kiss Sam and I had shared that I didn’t know what I was doing. Just with kissing. So the rest of it might be even worse.
And that couldn’t happen.
It couldn’t.
After the last twenty-four hours with Sam, it couldn’t end like that.
The horrible kiss was humiliating enough, if I couldn’t satisfy Sam in bed that would be mortifying.
And by the time we got to my door, I’d convinced myself that was what was going to happen. That hot kiss with Sam this morning and the one five minutes ago were flukes.
And I couldn’t tell him this. I couldn’t explain any of this.
“Baby, your key?” Sam prompted as I stood staring at the door, trying to figure out how to get out of having sex with Sam and how to talk him into being my hot guy friend that I made out with twice instead.
My head jerked up to look at him then it jerked down and I pulled my purse off my shoulder, dug inside and came out with my key.
Whether it was because Sam saw my hands shaking (and they were) or he was just being Sam, he slid it gently from my fingers, unlocked the door, pushed it open and held it for me to precede him.
I didn’t want to but I did.
Sam followed me and the door closed behind him.
I stopped breathing and my stomach clutched.
Sam hit the light switch and several lights came on around the room.
That jolted me to action.
“Sam –” I started but he was right there, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, pulling me in and tilting my head back with his thumb at my jaw.
His face was so close, it was all I could see when he whispered, “Breathe, baby, just breathe. Stay with me, two minutes, stay with me. Then I promise to make it okay.”
Two minutes?
He promised to make it okay?
“Promise me you’re gonna stay with me,” he ordered.
I bit my lip.
Two minutes.
I could do that. Right?
I nodded.
He let me go instantly and moved around the room, turning off all the lights but one by the bed.
Then he came to me and guided me to the bed.
Oh no.
“Sam –” I began again.
“Baby, you promised.”
I did.
I shut up.
He turned me and gently pressed me to seat me at the side of the bed. Then he bent, hooked a hand behind my knee, lifted my leg and slipped off my sandal. Repeat with the other one. Then he sat down beside me.
I sucked in breath.
“One more minute, Kia,” he said gently.
I turned my head to him and nodded again.
He pulled off his boots and socks.
Then he turned to me and in a smooth, swift movement, he wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me up the bed so we were lying perpendicular across the middle of it, both down to our sides, facing each other.
Okay, no.
No.
I didn’t know how much time was left on Sam’s two minutes but I had to break my promise.
And that was why I whispered, “I don’t think I can –”
His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb out to press lightly on my lips and he whispered back, “You don’t have to Kia. I can.”
I shook my head and, even with his thumb still at my lips, I told him, “I’m not… I don’t think I’m good at this.”
“Trust me.”
Oh God.
No way!
I could not fuck this up. It would ruin everything and the everything we already had was everything.
I could live without having more. At that point, I was sure of it.
“Sam –”
His hand went from my jaw to trail down my shoulder, my arm, my wrist and down to my hand. He pulled it to him, dipping it under his shirt then sliding it up and my fingers hit his hot, sleek skin.
The grip my panicked thoughts had on my mind instantly released as it registered the feel of his skin. The muscle under it was hard, solid, but the skin was so warm it was hot and so soft it was silky.
It felt nice. Very nice.
Sam’s mouth touched mine gently as his hand moved mine up the skin of his side, taking his shirt with it and the added lip touch was sweet.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” Sam whispered against my lips.
“Okay,” I whispered back.
My hand moved of its own accord to experience more, explore the definition of the muscles of his back, take in more of his hot silk and Sam’s hand came to my jaw, gliding back and up into my hair as his head moved, his lips sliding across my cheek to my ear.
“I’m gonna taste your mouth again,” he whispered and I shivered.
His hand slid down my neck, down my spine, light, sweet.
God.
So freaking sweet.
“I’m gonna taste your skin,” Sam kept whispering and then he did, touching his tongue to sensitive area under my ear and I shivered again, pressing slightly closer, my hand continuing its exploration at his back. “There,” he whispered at the skin below my ear. “Here,” he went on, his hand now whisper-soft and moving up my side. “Here,” he kept whispering, his hand moving in over my ribs. “And here,” he continued, his thumb drifting at the underside of the swell of my breast.
I drew in breath as my belly plummeted and heat gathered between my legs.
His mouth slid back to mine and, his eyes holding mine, his lips moving on mine, he whispered, “And also here.”
Then his thumb moved up, dragging across my nipple. I gasped and he kissed me, his tongue driving inside my mouth.
Oh yes.
Yes.
I kissed him back, pressing close, lifting my leg and hooking it over his hip, my arm going tight around him. His thumb dragged back, this time deeper, tighter, harder against my nipple and I whimpered into his mouth.
“Yeah, Kia, baby, give me that,” he growled into mine then he kissed me again, longer, wetter, taking more.
I pressed my hips into his and gave it.
Then he did what he told me he’d do. Suddenly, his hands were in my tank, going up and it was gone. Then, before I could think, his mouth was on me, on my neck, down, on my chest, down, his body bending, his lips and tongue gliding down the skin of my side, then up over my ribcage, all the while his hand moved on my back, down over my bottom, soothing at the same time heating, light but enticing.
My head was tipped down and I watched and trembled as he glided his lips along the underside of my breast then I watched him move up and he tugged my nipple in his mouth over the black lace of my bra.
My back arched as the beauty of his mouth drawing my nipple deep soared through me and I moaned.
Then I was on my back, my bra was gone and Sam was bent to me, his mouth at one nipple, sucking deep, his hand at the other, fingers cupping, thumb circling and I lost track of everything but how good that felt, what it was doing to me, what was building inside of me.
Need.
There was no other way to describe it and there was nothing else that penetrated my world but that intense, driving need.
“Sam –” I gasped, both my hands cupping his head and my hips bucked.
He surged up and was over me.
“You ready?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I answered and I was. I didn’t know exactly what he was referring to but I also didn’t care.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready. I was ready.
Without delay, Sam moved me in bed, righting us so my head was on the pillows. Then my shorts were gone. Then my black lace panties. Then my legs were spread and honest to God, honest to God, Sam’s big hands running along the insides of my thighs pressing my legs apart almost brought me to orgasm.
It was good they didn’t because then his mouth was on me.
My hips surged up.
Oh man.
Oh God.
That was good.
Sam threw my legs over his shoulders and then cupped my ass in his hands, pulling me to him even as I dug my heels in and helped.
He worked me with his mouth and it started good but it became awesome and my hips rocked in his hands and my hands moved to his head to hold him to me.
Then I felt it and I’d never felt it, not once, unless it was me giving it to me.
It was going to happen.
Oh God. I couldn’t believe it. It was going to happen.
Then it happened.
One of my hands flew to the headboard, my other one stayed at Sam’s head as I gasped and cried out, heels digging in as it washed over me, consuming, beautiful.
Oh God.
Perfect.
Heaven.
Nothing, nothing ever had come close.
My eyes drifted open and there was Sam, eyes on me, one hand in the bed at my side, arm straight, his other hand between my legs, fingers trailing, light, sweet.
Dazedly I noticed he was still fully clothed.
Oh God.
Shit!
He’d given me that and I’d done nothing for him.
His eyes left my face and his chin dipped so he could look at his hand between my legs.
“Jesus,” he whispered, “can’t fucking believe it. Your pussy’s as beautiful as you are.”
My freak out stalled and my breath caught.
“Tastes as good,” he kept whispering.
Oh wow.
His finger slid inside and that felt so awesome, my eyelids lowered.
“Feels as good,” he murmured.
“Sam,” I breathed.
“I gotta have this, baby,” he said gently, his finger moving out then in.
I started breathing harder.
“Now,” he added, his eyes coming back to mine.
I started breathing even harder.
“You ready to take me?” he asked.
I started panting.
I also nodded.
Sam bent low and kissed my belly. Then he pushed up, knelt between my legs and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Seeing his chest, his broad shoulders, his defined stomach, his cut arms, I panted harder.
I also sat up because I knew what the skin of his back felt like.
I had to experience his chest.
So, legs wide, knees bent, soles of my feet in the bed, I sat on my ass in front of Sam, moving my hands on his chest, fingers trailing, exploring, discovering, memorizing.
He felt great.
I leaned in and put my mouth to him, then the tip of my tongue.
Oh God.
He tasted even better.
He was doing something, what, I didn’t know until my mouth shifted down then I saw him rolling a condom on.
But I didn’t see the condom, really. I saw Sam and Sam’s hand at his cock.
He was hard all over, I already knew that.
What I didn’t know until that moment was that he was beautiful all over too.
My head tipped back and I whispered, “Is that for me?”
He grinned down at me.
Then his hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me up as he bent low and against my mouth he answered, “All for you, baby.”
He touched his mouth to mine before he lowered me back but took my hand and guided it to his cock while he settled again into his other hand in the bed, arm straight, looming over me.
“Guide me,” he rumbled and I didn’t delay, I moved him, pulled him, watched his jaw clench, a muscle jump in his cheek then I got the tip inside and just that felt perfect.
My hand flew away as he surged all the way in.
No, no. I was wrong.
This was perfect.
He started moving, slow, deep, his eyes on mine, his free hand roaming my skin.
I was wrong again.
This was perfect.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his hand at the base of my throat, his cock driving deeper, going faster, harder. “Fuck,” he repeated, his hand moving down my chest, between my breasts. I lifted my legs at the knees, pressed the insides of my thighs to his hips and he drove in deeper then faster and harder. “Beautiful,” he kept muttering, his hand down at my belly then down. “Every inch.” He planted himself inside and stayed deep, grinding. “Inside and out,” he finished and his thumb hit me.
Okay, no.
This was perfect.
Sam kept thrusting and watching and that was hot. His thumb pressing and rolling was hotter. Both my hands went to the headboard and I pushed into it, driving myself down as he drove himself up and that, that was amazing.
“Sam,” I gasped.
“Ride me, baby.”
“Sam!” I cried.
“Fuck yes,” he growled and I came again, my back arching off the bed, my hands pressing deep into the headboard grinding myself down on him and this one tore through me, hot, searing, devastating.
Still coming, I felt Sam’s heat and weight hit me, one hand plunging into my hair, fisting, he pressed my face into his neck. The other arm wrapped low on my hips, clamped tight and took over driving me down on his cock. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and alternately breathed, whimpered, moaned, gasped and tasted his skin.
Then his hand in my hair pulled my head back, his face went into my throat, his cock thrust deep and he growled his orgasm against my skin.
And call me crazy, hearing it, feeling it, Sam’s big, warm body heavy and covering me; listening to his orgasm was almost better than actually having the ones he’d given me.
And the ones he’d given me were freaking spectacular.
His fist relaxed in my hair but his hand didn’t leave it. His fingers sifted then twisted gently, tangling in the strands and staying there as Sam kept his cock rooted, connected to me and, as I tilted my chin down, his head slid up so I felt his breath under the skin of my ear.
Finished, I was languishing in the feel of all that was him, his heat, his power, his weight all held tight in my circling limbs, the aftermath, the connection of Sam still deep inside, his breath at my ear.
Then it hit me he wasn’t speaking.
And then it hit me that Sam communicated. It couldn’t be said I had a lot of experience with guys but my friends did and they talked about them all the time, talked as in bitched, and one of the things they bitched about the most was that the men in their lives never communicated.
Sam did.
All the time.
He was open. He was honest. He shared.
But now he wasn’t saying a word.
Oh God.
Shit!
“Uh…” I forged into the silence then asked quickly, “Was that okay?”
Sam didn’t answer immediately.
Then he didn’t answer at all but instead asked, “What?”
I kept my eyes glued to the ceiling and repeated, “Was that, uh… okay?”
Sam’s head came up and he looked down at me.
God. God.
He was beautiful.
Even more beautiful covering me and connected to me.
“Was that okay?” he repeated my question.
“Uh… yeah.”
He stared at me.
Then he burst out laughing, throwing his head back to do it and everything.
In the middle of it, his body suddenly collapsed on mine, I wheezed when I took his massive weight but I took it for a nanosecond before he rolled, performing a miracle as he did because he kept us connected even when he was on his back, I was on top and somehow I ended up straddling him.
I lifted my head up and looked down at him to see he was still laughing.
“I wasn’t being funny,” I whispered.
Both his hands came up to either side of my head and I watched him struggle to control his continuing laughter as he took in my face.
Then he asked, “Was it okay for you?”
Okay was not the word for it. Okay was not just not in the ballpark. Okay was not even in the same galaxy.
I did not share this with Sam.
Instead I answered, “Yeah.”
He kept chuckling but he moved his hands from my head and wrapped his arms around me and repeated my, “Yeah.”
It was safe to say I didn’t know what to do with that.
So I sought clarification.
“So is that a yeah, it was okay for you or a yeah, you heard and comprehended my yeah through your amusement?”
“Both,” he said through a grin.
“Oh,” I whispered, my eyes moving to the pillowcase. “Okay,” I finished.
“Kia, eyes on me,” Sam ordered gently and my eyes slid back to him to see he wasn’t smiling anymore and there was no trace of hilarity. He was focused, intent and serious but all of that in a tender way that made something important shift inside of me. “Makin’ you melt for me then makin’ you light up for me, listening to you get excited, feeling it, tasting it, eating it.” His words made me shiver and it helped that his hand was gliding up my back, my neck and into my hair then he pulled my head down so my face was an inch from his and he continued on a whisper, “Feelin’ you come against my mouth, watchin’ you drive yourself down on my dick, listening to you moan as your pussy clenched around my cock when you came, baby, yeah, that was all okay, that was better than fuckin’ okay. It was fuckin’ beautiful.”
Such was my relief, I closed my eyes and dropped my head so my forehead was resting against his.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head when he asked, “Okay?”
I nodded.
He smiled a small but sweet smile as his arm around me gave me a squeeze.
Then he ordered, “Kiss me then get off me. Yeah?”
I nodded again. Then I pressed my lips to his and would have pulled back but his hand in my hair kept me there and his arm around my back held me tight as his mouth opened, his tongue touched my lips, my lips opened then his tongue touched mine.
Then Sam let me lift my head, I pulled myself off, sliding Sam out of me (which kind of sucked because he was still hard and he felt good there) then he rolled me to his side.
Then he yanked the covers from under me, pulled them up over me, exited the bed and headed to the bathroom.
I closed my eyes and drew in breath.
Okay.
Sam thought that was beautiful.
So did I.
I let out my breath, opened my eyes and smiled.
Sam came back and I watched with no small amount of fascination as he pulled off his jeans, tugged back the covers and got in bed beside me.
He slid close then pushed an arm under my body, pulling me so into his side I was plastered partially to it and partially on top of him.
I lifted my head just as the fingers of his other hand tangled in the hair at my shoulder, gave it a gentle tug and my eyes hit his to see his were on me and they weren’t serious, they were deadly serious.
“Okay, baby, now that my cock is no longer inside you and when it is, that is a place he’ll never be, I’ll say this straight. You don’t get it straight, we work on it but I’ll say it straight and maybe it’ll penetrate and you can focus on the Kia you are, not the Kia he dragged down and made you be.”
Uh-oh.
I wasn’t sure I was big on where this was heading.
“Sam –”
“Just let me finish, yeah?”
I didn’t want to say yeah so I didn’t.
But I nodded.
Sam didn’t delay.
“I am not him, Kia. Your dead husband is dead. Before he was dead he was a dick. He was a moron. He was an asshole. And now he’s gone. You’re in bed with me. Me. Whatever you had with him in your life and your bed, that’s as dead as him. I’m here because I wanna be here. And in about ten minutes, when we’re done talkin’ about that asshole and he’s gone again, I’m gonna get you wet and hot for me and I’m gonna be in you because I wanna be in you. And, trust me, I’m a man so I can say with a fair amount of authority there are not many men who would not kill for the chance of bein’ naked in a bed with you naked and pressed up against him after he got the gift you just gave me. It’s just that that man is now me and he’s gonna be me for a good long while. Do you get me?”
“I… I think so,” I stammered, staring into his serious eyes.
“Where was I unclear?” Sam asked and I blinked.
“Uh… you were pretty clear,” I told him.
“So you don’t think you get me. You actually get me.”
I kept staring.
And I got him which meant I had him.
I had him.
My heart leapt as that settled into my soul.
“Yeah, Sam, I get you,” I whispered.
“You need to talk about him, dig him out so you can release the shit he planted in you, we’ll talk, baby. I’ll give that to you. Anytime. Except one. When we’re in bed, it’s you and me. Don’t bring him here. Leave behind the shit he planted because, Kia, honey, you’re beautiful, you have a fantastic fuckin’ body and when you let go, swear to Christ, you could make me come just with the noises you make when you get excited.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
Sam grinned.
Then he whispered back, “So, let that shit go, baby. The way you kissed me this morning and the way you were before I broke through tonight, let that shit go. That isn’t you. That’s what he planted in you and that motherfucker is dead. Bury him.”
Bury him.
Bury Cooter.
I already did.
And yet, I didn’t.
And Cooter Clementine was very, very dead.
It was time to bury all of him.
“Okay, Sam,” I agreed quietly.
His hand in my hair moved, taking my hair with it, it glided along my jaw as his eyes roamed over my face.
Then his fingers slid out of my hair, he wrapped both arms around me and rolled, I went over him then to my back and Sam was on top of me.
“Right,” he said softly, “now, you were in the middle of usin’ your mouth on me when I interrupted to fuck you. Let’s go back to that.”
Oh yeah. That sounded good because he felt good and he tasted good.
I wanted to go back to that.
“Okay,” I breathed.
Sam grinned.
Then he kissed me, hard, wet and deep.
Then he rolled us so he was on his back and I was on top.
Then we got back to what I was doing before he interrupted to fuck me.
After awhile of further exploration and discovery on my part, which I enjoyed a whole heckuva lot and, considering I significantly widened my search area and was relatively thorough, Sam enjoyed more, Sam broke out another condom.
By the time Sam finally let me pass out, the sun had started kissing the sky and he’d broken out two more.
So, I already had proof, when God was handing out talent, he was generous with Sam in a lot of areas.
One of them was stamina.
Good to know.