Page 26

~ SAM ~

When she kissed me, I almost stopped her. I’d been talking to Monk about this thing we did, her and I. The way we used sex. It wasn’t bad—I knew that. It was good for us. Healing. Affirming. Connecting. But sometimes… sometimes we were both guilty of using it to push away the bad stuff instead of facing it. And the way Bridget was acting now, if all we did was romp then I left in the morning, I was afraid she might go dark again soon. Like she had before she met me.

It burned inside that I couldn’t be close all the time. Stand behind her. Reassure her. And sometimes it burned because she was the reason I couldn’t. But I loved the hell out of her, and we were both all the way in. I knew that. If nothing else, the past couple months apart had proven that.

So even though I gave in and kissed her, inwardly I balked.

But she held me so tight and her kiss was so frantic… Of course I wanted her.

Taking her face in my hands, I sucked in a deep breath and pulled back far enough to look her in the eye. She still had tears, but now she was angry, trying to pull me back down.

“Sam, what—”

“I want you too, babe,” I murmured. “But you need to promise me something.”

She went still, her eyes wary like prey sensing a predator .

“Promise me you’ll talk to me after—doesn’t have to be about your dad. You talk to me about you. You tell me what you’re feeling and what’s bothering you. You have to get it out.”

She deflated, sinking back onto her heels, frowning. But her tears had stopped.

“Promise me, Bridget,” I rumbled, needing her to understand I was serious, but not angry.

She sighed, but nodded. Relief washed through me—then outright delight when she looked back up at me and her eyes were flashing. “You make me come and I’ll spill my guts.”

“It would be my fucking pleasure, wife,” I growled.

Her eyes rolled back and she smiled for the first time since we started talking, and suddenly I was just as desperate as her—kissing, tonguing, clawing at her clothes, stripping her down as fast as I could.

She wriggled and hopped and tugged at my clothes, both of us panting by the time I finally got my jeans off my feet and tossed them across the room.

I was already reaching for her, but Bridget was a wild thing. She leaped on me the second I was naked, clawing her hands into my hair and pulling my head down, walking me, turning me, kissing me like it was a fucking demand.

I growled and grabbed for her, but then she took both hands and shoved me back—and I’d been so focused on her, I wasn’t braced. The backs of my legs hit the bed and I toppled—laughing—but Bridget, grinning like a cat with a mouse, was already crawling up onto me, dropping her head so her hair splayed across my stomach. Her kisses started at my navel and she worked her way up as she crawled.

Then she clamped a hand to my throat and I almost laughed.

“Oh no you don’t,” I growled.

Her head shot up, eyes wicked and blazing. But I still had feet on the floor. Traction. And she was a fucking lightweight.

With a delighted growl, I grabbed her at the waist and flipped her over. She shrieked, but laughed, then kept rolling onto her stomach, pulling her knees up to crawl.

But I shot out an arm, hooked it around her belly, under her hips, and pulled her back to me as I crawled up onto the bed.

She struggled, wriggling, laughing, twisting like a fish, fighting me. But I was too strong for her. I lifted her all the way off the bed so she had no leverage and flipped her onto her back again. She bounced, ass-first on the bed.

Thank God she was smiling.

I pounced on her, grabbing her hands as she twisted away again—but she was still laughing and it made her weak.

Our hands slapped—me trying to catch her wrists, her pushing me off, but she was spluttering, giggling, struggling playfully.

“You wanna fight, Babe?” I said, my voice gruff and ragged because I was already hard as a rock and panting with need.

“I always said good sex needs a little… resistance,” she said breathlessly, then growled with frustration, because I kept catching her, stopping her from rolling over or turning away.

Then, finally, I caught both her wrists and pinned them back on the bed. Now she couldn’t roll. She struggled a few times, before slumping, glaring at me—still smiling. She tried to hump me, but because I was on all fours, my knees between hers, she ended up flopping like a fish.

“Let me go!” she pouted.

“Say please?”

She snorted. “Since when do we use manners?”

“Since I only get twelve hours with you and they’re precious,” I said seriously.

She immediately stopped struggling and even though she was panting, her beautiful chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths, her expression grew pained.

“Don’t,” she said quietly. Breathlessly. “I love this, Sam. Don’t… don’t talk about the bad stuff right now.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going to. I’m going to give you everything you need babe. Every. Last. Thing. So tell me… what do you want?”

Her lips curled up into a sweet smile. “I already told you. You.”

Still locked in on her, I let my hips settle between her thighs. Her chin went up when she felt me slide against her—but I didn’t waste any time. She was ready for me, and I needed her.

I entered her in one long, slow slide, and her jaw went slack.

My breath shuddered and my grip tightened on her wrist as her grip tightened on me.

Holy fuck. “You have me, Babe,” I gasped. “Now what? ”

Her eyes darted back and forth, searching mine. “What are you doing, Sam?”

“I’m holding you,” I growled. “And doing everything you tell me,” I said as I drew out of her slowly and felt her tightening, trying to keep me. “So tell me what’s next?”

“My nipples,” she gasped. “I love it when you play and fuck me at the same time.”

I leaned down slowly—this one was tricky because I was a lot taller than her. Thank God for core muscle strength. But as I thrust into her again—still very slowly—I kept her hands braced above her shoulders and leaned down, playing with first one nipple, then the other, with lips and tongue, sucking, laving, nipping.

She jerked and hissed a curse.

While I was still down there, I flicked her nipple with my tongue, then spoke, letting my lips play across that tight peak.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” I said, letting my breath play over her wettened skin. “I will do anything you want, babe. But I do not ‘fuck’ you. Ever.”

She snorted, but then I closed my teeth on that peak and her breath caught. She pulled her head up to watch me suck and tease, and her core pulsed around me as I kept my hips moving slowly but surely. When I reached the peak of a thrust, I’d hold myself there, pressed hard against her and lifting her hips. Her head tipped back and she gave a beautiful little groan, whimpering when I pulled back out.

“Faster, Sam. Please.”

What my wife wanted, my wife got.

Releasing her wrists, I clamped one hand to the back of her neck, bracing my weight on that fist, and arching my back, so I could use the other hand to play all over her body.

For a time, I forgot about anything except watching myself touch her—the tip of her chin, dragging fingers down her extended throat, cupping her breast, teasing that shining nipple with my thumb, trailing fingers down her stomach—then down to where we joined, using my thumb against her clit as I thrust—a little harder, and little faster each time, until we had a solid rhythm and her breath was starting to catch.

But I could see her struggling—her mind still in it. And I knew she needed something more .

“Tell me,” I rasped. “Tell me how to get you all the way here with me?”

“Stop playing with me,” she said immediately. “Unleash yourself, Sam. I love it when you lose control.”

Shit. “The problem with losing control, babe,” I said hoarsely, “Is I don’t last long.”

“That’s okay, because neither will I,” she whispered with a wicked grin, then reached down between us to grasp me as I pulled out of her, sliding her fingers under my length all the way to tip.

The sensation was so unexpected, I jolted, instinctively thrusting back into her—hard.

“God, yes.” She slapped that hand to my back and pulled me into her, again and again as I picked up the pace.

“Bridget,” I said through my teeth, grabbing her hip and holding her in place. “I’m—”

“Do it, Sam. Do me,” she gasped.

Unable to resist, I tipped forward, fisting the pillow next to her and bridging myself over her, dropping my head to suck her nipple into my mouth as I thrust again, and again.

“Oh, shit!” She writhed under me, her nails digging into my back hard enough I wondered if she’d draw blood, but she was clenching around me, arching into my mouth, her breath getting louder. So I sucked harder, and thrust faster.

But I couldn’t sustain the position, and my body ached for release, so with a muttered curse, I came off her breast, grabbed her hair with my free hand and locked in.

Her eyes were hooded, her jaw slack. But she kept saying my name, and I held her there, held eye-contact, my wrist braced against the top of her shoulder to keep her in place as I groaned and began to pound.

First she stopped saying my name and only gasped with every thrust.

Then she started to mewl—tiny, high cries at every peak.

Then her eyes closed and her head tipped back, her lower back arched and she clenched on me.

The leash I’d kept on my control snapped.

Pushing back with a roar, I sank onto my heels, kneeling, grabbing her thighs on both sides, widening her knees and pulling her up to meet me with every thrust .

Bridget keened and cried, one hand flailing to brace on the headboard above her, the other gripping the quilt as she tried desperately to give me resistance.

But I didn’t need her to. I pounded so hard our skins slapped, widening her legs and watching myself take her, growling at her how beautiful she was, how desperately I needed her.

And how she belonged to me.

I was losing it, my body shuddering with the urge to come. She trembled too, her entire body shaking. She was almost there, so I took one hand, flattened it on her lower belly, and thrust into the pressure.

Bridget’s eyes flew wide and she came like a freight-train—a strangled cry cutting off as her body whipped into an arch like she’d been electrocuted. She hung, unmoving, as I pounded into my grip on her again and again and again—moaning my own release that hit so hard I couldn’t make words.

We both blissed out for seconds, bodies twitching, jerking, my thrusts growing erratic, and her body humming like she mainlined electric current.

Then she gave a cry and slumped, sweating and near tears, back against the bed, her ass on my thighs, and her body trembling.

A moment later, I collapsed over her, panting and lightheaded, sweaty and drained… and so fucking satisfied.

As we both caught our breaths, I braced my weight on my elbows so I wouldn’t crush her. But I had no energy, except to turn my face into her hair, nuzzle her jaw, and whisper, “I love you babe. Whatever you need. You tell me. I’m here.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck and held me as tightly as I held her.

Neither of us moved for a long time.