He transferred my wrists into one of his hands, his other hand went away, I felt him move, adjust then I felt his c**k drive up and fill me, taking my knees off the bed.
My head shot back. God, I loved being connected to him.
“What does that feel like?” he growled.
It felt unbelievably good.
“Honey,” I whispered.
He ground up as his lips went to the skin under my ear and he whispered back, “You have me, Kia.”
My body went perfectly still.
His fingers tightened on my wrists and he repeated, “You have me.”
I didn’t know what he meant.
But I hoped I did.
He kept whispering, “You just have to take me how I can give it, baby.”
I closed my eyes.
“You with me?” he asked.
No. I was not.
But I was thinking, maybe, I was closer.
“Baby,” he ground deeper and his lips moved up, his teeth nipping my earlobe and I trembled, “are you with me?”
“Yes, honey,” I lied.
He pulled out again then I was on my back, his hands were on my hips, he was sitting back on his heels, he slid me up his thighs, I pressed mine to his sides then held me steady, staring down at me in his king-size bed, his eyes intense, his face intense, as he f**ked hard until I came hard and so did he.
* * * * *
It was later. After I’d cleaned up. After I’d pulled on a nightgown. After Sam had turned out the lights, tucked me into his side and Memphis had joined us to sprawl in the vast expanse left to her in Sam’s big bed.
His breaths were coming even. My eyelids were drooping.
Then his hand drifted up my back, into my hair, it fisted and twisted.
It didn’t hurt but it made my eyelids stop drooping.
“None of that ‘mostly’ shit again, Kia,” he rumbled into the dark, his voice deeper, rougher and not like velvet.
He wasn’t angry, I knew that tone. And he wasn’t annoyed, I knew that one too. He also didn’t sound tired because I knew the sound of that too.
This was something else.
Something new.
I stared at his shadowed chest knowing somewhere in my soul I’d hurt him when I said that.
I’d hurt him.
Oh God.
What was happening?
I didn’t get it but what I did get was that I was thinking Sam had told me earlier that I couldn’t ask. Instead, I had to take it as I got it.
I closed my eyes.
Then I did the only thing I could do in that moment, for him and for me.
I whispered on a squeeze of my arm around his gut, “Okay, baby.”
His hand relaxed, sifted through my hair then drifted down to become an arm wrapped around my waist.
Sam fell asleep about thirty seconds after Memphis.
It took me a lot longer.
Chapter Nineteen
A Mission
My eyes flitted open and I saw the wall of Sam’s chest as well as the wall of Sam’s bedroom. It was grooved wood painted light gray.
His room also had white woodwork, dark wood floors with a big dark gray area rug under the huge bed. His bed had dark gray sheets and a dark red comforter cover. Black furniture, mission style, tall, wide dresser, nightstands, attractive lamps over the nightstands built into the wall that swung around so you could position them where you wanted them.
The only thing on the wall was a framed black and white photo of a headshot of Walter Payton wearing a white headband and looking over his Bears jersey covered, shoulder padded shoulder, his handsome face reflective.
It was an awesome picture.
Sam was asleep. I knew this from his breathing but also from the feel of him. You could sense his power always even if he was only in the vicinity. Now his power was shut down.
Memphis was also asleep. I knew this because she was pressed to the small of my back and immobile.
So I had time. Time to decide what to do about Sam.
But I didn’t need time. It came to me immediately.
And what came to me was that I had time.
Time to convince him he could trust me. Time to prove to him he could give me his secrets, open his heart, show me his soul and I’d take care of it just like he was taking care of mine. Time in his capable hands to put myself back together and give him the real me.
We were new, I reminded myself. I needed to give him time. I needed to give him me without expecting more than he was already giving me. And I needed to work toward gaining his trust.
No more tantrums. No more dramas. No more pushing.
It would come.
In the meantime, I needed to keep my promise and take him how he could give himself to me.
Because, seriously, what did I have to complain about?
On this thought I pressed into him, putting my lips to his chest, gliding them up to his shoulder, his neck then to his jaw.
His arm around my waist tightened and he pulled me mostly on his body.
He was awake.
Time to get to work.
I lifted my head and looked down into his beautiful eyes with their spiky, thick lashes, eyes that were now languid and thus hotter than their usual hot and I grinned.
“I like your picture of Sweetness.”
His arm got tighter and his lips turned up slightly at the ends. “You know Payton?”
“Who doesn’t know Payton?”
“Thought you weren’t into football, honey.”
“You don’t have to be into football to know Walter Payton was the best running back the game has ever seen.”
His lip turn got bigger. “You know what a running back is?”
“No, but my guess is they run and I definitely know Sweetness could run.”
His body shook with his chuckle as he rolled, taking me to my back, making Memphis scoot away and ending with him mostly on me.
My fingers started exploring his back as his hand ran up my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair from the bottom, his thumb extended to stroke my jaw as I kept talking.
“I like your bedroom too.”
“Good,” Sam murmured, dipping his head and running the side of his nose along the side of mine.
He’d never done that. I liked it. It was sweet.
“And your whole house,” I whispered.
His lips swept my lips then he whispered back, “Good.”
“And your view,” I kept going.
“Good,” he repeated on a mutter, his whole hand slid up into my hair, cupping then tilting my head, his slanted the other way and he kissed me.
I planted a foot in the bed, heaved up, Sam let me roll him so I was on top and I did this all while kissing him back.
Then I lifted my head and informed him, “But if you have a Ferrari in your garage, that’s a deal breaker.”