Page 2 of Bite Me
“Oh, fuck.” Sam’s eyes were wide when I glanced up at him. “I think it might’ve been me.”
“What? For real?” I stared at him mercilessly, somewhat mollified to see his cheeks go pink with shame.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “I mean, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I did crash on the couch here last Halloween, remember? And I have a really fuzzy memory ofholding a pumpkin. I also fucking love candy corn and ate a shit ton of it that night. I definitely remember that. Sorry, dude.”
“That’s absolutely disgusting, Samson.” I narrowed my eyes at him critically. “I’m disappointed in you.” I wasn’t really that disappointed, and I was surprised I sounded so stern, considering how much trouble I’d been having lately getting genuinely irritated at him. For instance, last week he’d left his towel in a heap on the floor in the bathroom we shared and I hadn’t even bitched about it like I usually would. I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the mind-blowing orgasms we’d been giving each other and way more to do with our growing friendship. Maybe.
Sam’s face fell, like he’d been properly scolded, and I felt bad for a twist of a second until his eyes lit up again. “You know what, though? Now that I’m remembering it, the bowl was empty. So, see, there are trick-or-treaters. Silver lining?” He beamed and picked up the scissors. “Want me to help cut out fondant shapes? As long as it’s triangles, circles, and crescents, I’ve got it covered. Stars, not so much.”
I could tell it was his peace offering, so I nodded, and he picked up the fondant and began cutting out shapes while I started rolling rice krispy goo into balls. Now and then, he paused, watching my hands as I shaped the balls and set them aside.
Once he had a bunch of crescents and triangles cut out, he set the scissors aside and roamed closer.
A little tingle of awareness zipped up my spine when he drew near, turning into a full-body sizzle when he pressed up against my back and rested his chin on my shoulder. “That looks really satisfying,” he mused, as I scooped up another sticky handful.
“It is.” I swallowed hard, then swallowed again as he reached down, circling my wrist with an enormous paw and guiding my hand toward his mouth.
“Ummm, that’s unsanitary,” I breathed out, but made no move to stop him as the heat of his lips enveloped my finger.
“Mmm,” he rumbled, tongue swirling around the tip before he sucked the digit clean and moved onto the next, leaving my knees wobbly. “Yeah, maybe. But so fucking good.”
It would’ve been a great time to bring up a potential food scene, if my tongue wasn’t frozen and my dick hadn’t gone instantly hard. Actually, not instantly. I was pretty sure it had been in a standby state of semi-erect the second Sam walked through the door. But it could for sure crack walnuts now.
“Sam.” I let out a little groan as he moved to my ring finger, and my hips accidentally thrust back against him without my permission. Oops. “I have to get these finished before anyone else gets back,” I thought I said, but honestly wasn’t sure if I spoke at all or just kind of moaned.
“You even smell sweet.” Sam sucked my pinky clean, too, then drew the tip of his nose along the side of my neck, inhaling deeply and making that rumbly-purr of sound that turned my brain to mush all over. His cock pressed against my ass, intimidatingly thick, and my limbs started to feel much like the rice krispy goo I no longer really cared about. “I’m ready for tonight. You?”
I sucked in a breath meant to cleanse my brain of all the dirty thoughts currently seizing it and nodded, trying to focus. Tonight, right. The scene.Thescene. The one I’d been imagining and anticipating pretty much every time I jerked off since we came up with it a few weeks ago. Okay, it was mostly me and my finely-tuned Instagram algorithm that had come up with the idea, but Sam had been game immediately. Like, not even a tiny bit of hesitation. “Yes. Ready for tonight. Very ready. Which is why you need to quit doing… you just need to quit,” I stammered. “Save your strength,” I finished weakly, because that was better than telling him a few more minutes of hiscasually erotic confection affection was either going to make me melt, cum, or both at the same time, and I was pretty sure jizzing within a foot of my food prep area wouldn’t exactly be considered the gold standard of food safety practice. Unless it was Anthony Bourdain or something. He probably would’ve approved.
“Fine.” Sam chuckled. With one more firm squeeze of my hip, and a slow thrust of his pelvis against my ass—like I needed the reminder of exactly the kind of Kraken cock I’d be treated to later—he stepped away, spinning to lean against the counter next to me. “I do have a question, though. About tonight.”
“All ears.” And dick, and mouth, and… whatever else he wanted, really.
“I’m not supposed to be nice, right?”
“Right.” I nodded sternly because Sam’s default state was so damn golden retriever coded I was a little worried that what he considered “mean” might be the average Joe’s baseline nice. That wouldn’t do for this scene. On that note, maybe more instruction was in order. “No checking in with me or worrying about if I’m comfortable or something, and absolutely no being considerate. Like, under no circumstances are you to be considerate or thoughtful. Got it?”
Sam’s brows knit. “But what if?—”
“Sam,” I huffed, and he grinned at my glare, which wasn’t much of a glare at all. But goddammit, he was so fucking cute leaning against the counter like that with his half-cocked smile and semi still partially outlined in his gym shorts. I wished we could just skip ahead a few hours.
“Alpha asshole mode, got it. Be the Gordon Ramsay of porn.” He saluted me, and I burst into laughter, secretly loving that he’d picked up enough about the cooking trade to make pointed innuendos just for me.
Mark and Chet chose that moment to blow in through the back door, Mark lofting a giant shopping bag triumphantly, and Chet with two fake swords. This ought to be good.
“Halloween costume shopping officially done. I’m starving.” Mark immediately swerved in the direction of my rice krispy balls. “Hell yes, rice krispy treats?”
“They’re for trick or treaters!” I held my fingers up in a cross to ward the two of them off, but it didn’t work.
Mark beelined toward the array of balls on the counter, Chet on his heels, and nearly smacked into Sam when he stepped in front of the counter, growling, “Back off, peasants. You heard him. They’re for trick-or-treaters.”
Mark stopped short, blinking up at Sam. “Seriously? Does Jesse have you on security detail now?”
Sam tossed a look over his shoulder, lips curling smugly as if to say, see, I can be mean, then faced forward again, scowling. “More or less, yeah.” He squared his shoulders. “There gonna be a problem?”
He was so convincing, I think I creamed my pants a little. The protectiveness was really doing it for me.
I stifled a laugh as Sam slanted another victorious glance over his shoulder at me. Then I decided to take pity on Mark and Chet because I well knew that shopping could work up a fierce appetite.