I sifted through all of this in my head, trying to decide which one I had the courage to tackle.
Then I noted, “Uh… I don’t have an HOA but I’m thinking my neighbors are not going to be hip on me having an easy chair in my front yard.”
Yes. I wimped out.
“I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, first thing, on my way to the gym,” Sam replied, not taking his eyes from the TV.
“Okay,” I said softly.
Totally wimped out.
Then I went back to my albums. It took awhile but I got through them all, dumping all the photos in the bag Sam provided for me all the while not sure how I felt about that. Sam was clearly in no mood for me to disagree with one of his decisions and one could not say Cooter’s parents were dear to my heart but it didn’t do anyone any harm taking the high road.
Still, they weren’t burned or dumped yet and maybe the next day Sam would be in a better mood and I could approach him about it, explain where I was coming from and then talk to Dad about taking them over to Cooter’s parents’ house.
When I set the last album down, Sam’s voice came at me.
“Hopeful.”
My head turned and I saw his eyes were on me.
“What?” I asked.
“You looked hopeful.”
My brows drew together. “Sam, I’m not following.”
“In your wedding picture.”
Oh God.
I pulled in breath.
“Now, something good happens to you, you look surprised and like you can’t believe it and you act like you’re preparing for it to go away. That piece of shit took that from you too and, until I saw that picture, I didn’t get it. Now I do. And it pisses me off.”
Well, I was glad to know what was behind his mood except for the part about me not knowing what to do about it.
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I told him the truth.
“That makes two of us, honey, ‘cause the ass**le’s dead and I can’t hunt his ass down and cave in his face.”
Yikes.
“I survived,” I reminded him quietly and added, “And I’ll heal.”
He didn’t speak but something was working in his eyes, I saw it and I waited but again he didn’t give it to me.
Instead he muttered, “Right.” Then he looked back at the TV.
I licked my lips then pressed them together, calling up the courage and when I had it, I called, “Sam?”
His eyes remained glued to the TV. “Yeah?”
He didn’t want to talk, it was clear. Sam always wanted to talk but he didn’t now and I debated pushing it but decided against it. If he needed space, I had to give it to him and find a more appropriate time to try to get him to open up to me.
So I asked, “You want a beer?”
“No.”
“Okay,” I whispered got up and got myself a beer.
This was a mistake. My body was used to being asleep at that time and after Mom’s meal, during which I’d consumed a beer, and compounding it with another one, I passed out on the couch. And I did this at the opposite end of the couch from Sam. Sam not touching me, Sam not cuddling me and I didn’t like not having either. It was the first time Sam and I watched television together but he was tactile. If I’d been asked to guess, I would have guessed he’d snuggle, even during baseball games. And I suspected his mood was what held him distant.
The next thing I knew, I was being laid on my bed in the dark.
“Sam, honey,” I muttered sleepily.
“You awake?” Sam asked.
“Kind of,” I answered.
“Good,” he murmured then he kissed me.
His kiss was a shock, not an unpleasant one, but one nonetheless. This was because it was not gentle; it was not leading up to anything. It was already there, wet, hard and demanding.
Instinctively, I gave.
His mouth took more and I gave more and then his hands got in on the action and they took too, first my clothes then everything else. In no time I was heated, dazed by the sensual onslaught, pulling at his clothes to get to his skin. Sam helped, yanking them off and when we were both naked, I went at him. We rolled, we kissed. We rolled, fingers swept, tongues tasted, teeth bit, limbs tangled. We rolled and more of the same and Sam, his hands, fingers, lips, tongue, teeth not to mention him giving me access to his body so I could use all the same, took me beyond the need he always made me feel.
It was desperation.
And my voice dripped with it when I was on my back, his finger rolling at my clit, his tongue rolling my nipple, my hand cupping the back of his head and I breathed, “I need you inside, honey.”
Sam didn’t delay, shifting so he could hook the backs of my knees around his arms, holding me wide, he positioned and drove in, looming over me, powering in fast, hard, deep, oh God… God. It… felt… great.
I pushed up to an elbow and reached out with my other hand so my fingertips could graze the silk of his skin at his chest and then down.
“You feel beautiful,” I whispered and I meant all of him, all of him driving deep and all of him I could feel with my fingertips.
“You like my cock,” he growled, planting himself to the root and grinding.
Oh yeah. Yeah.
“I love it,” I gasped.
“You like what I do for you,” he grunted, thrusting hard and fast again.
Okay, that was better. By a lot.
“Love it, honey.”
“Beautiful,” he rumbled.
“Beautiful,” I breathed, pulled in breath through my teeth, arched my neck and prepared for it to wash through me.
Sam pulled out.
My head righted with a jerk.
“Sam –” I started but he was gone then I was moving, he was seated, back to the headboard, he pulled me to straddling him then with an arm wrapped around my waist, he impaled me on his cock.
Oh yes. That was nice. That was freaking amazing.
“Baby,” I whispered, my head tipping forward, my lips touching his.
“My Kia deserves beauty.”
My body stilled, even my breathing.
Oh God.
Sam wasn’t done.
“She deserves hope.”
Oh God!
“Take it, baby,” he whispered against my mouth.
My hands moved to either side of his head and I looked through the dark into his eyes as I moved up and down, slowly then faster, harder, his thumb moved to my cl*t and started rolling and I sucked in breath.
“That’s it, Kia, honey, f**k me. Take what you deserve.”
“Sam,” I moaned, his thumb put on more pressure, my neck and back arched, it tore through me leaving a wake of sheer ecstasy and I cried out.