He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to end up a miserable alcoholic who takes it out with a belt on his son just because he has got to release that pent-up rage somewhere.
But Sam is making him very, very uncertain of himself right now. Uncertain of his self-imposed rules. Uncertain if he is making the right decisions of never allowing himself to get too close to anyone.
She is still holding his hand as she pulls him close for a kiss. A goodbye kiss, he tells himself.
He leans over and seizes her lips with his mouth. He means it to be a chaste kiss – but upon contact, a different fire he doesn’t want to acknowledge is fuelled. A fire of unquenched passion and raging, hidden desires and everything they talk about in the books that he has never read. He kisses her and kisses her – open-mouthed, with hungry lips and tongue and a roaring need in his loins, and with the blood rushing in his ears so frantically that he thinks he’s surrounded by a waterfall.
She’s equally in as much fervor as he is, because her hands clasp his face and neck and draw him in for a deeper kiss – a merging of mouths and souls. He finds himself fumbling for the buttons on her blouse, and she’s tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders, and he’s letting her do it. And they are all over each other, groping, grasping, clutching, kissing, never coming up for air, and it’s as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years, like some sex-starved prisoner.
They drop their clothes on the floor, both driven by a primal energy bigger than the two of them combined. They are both breathing very hard now, and as she rips off his jeans, his cock rears up to almost hit her on the face.
“Oh wow,” she says.
“You’ve seen it before.”
“But never this close.”
He laughs softly.
She kneels to take it in her mouth.
“Wait,” he says between pants. “I just want to say something before you do anything you regret. This is just a one off. I don’t do encores.”
Best to be honest about it upfront.
“I know,” she says, her eyes shimmering.
“So you’re gonna be OK with it?”
“Caleb told me all about you, so I’m OK with it.” Her voice quavers slightly.
13
To be honest, she isn’t sure she’s going to be OK with it, but she sure as hell will try. She has seen his cock before, but it’s another thing to actually taste it – to roll and slide her wet tongue around its crown, the little ridge that separates his head from his shaft, and to press her tip into the little slit on his bulge.
He is salty and sweet all at the same time, and there’s a masculine musk that emanates from his thatch of pubic hair and his smooth balls, which she cups in her right palm.
He moans softly and smoothens her hair.
She takes more of him into her mouth. She has to stretch the sides of her mouth wide to accommodate his girth. His flesh rushes in and fills her up to her throat, flattening her tongue and expanding the sides of her cheeks. It has been so long since she has performed fellatio, and every shred of technique she ever had – or thought she had – flees from her mind. She is now focused on sucking him as though he is a gargantuan lollipop, and taking more and more of him in … and out … and in, and out. Until she’s practically massaging his thick rod of warm flesh with her hollowed cheeks and grazing his skin lightly with her teeth.
His appreciative noises only serve to spur her further. Her hands rub and caress his balls, two delicious fruits in their tight casings.
His fingers play with her hair, dance with her tresses and grab bunches of it as she sucks him harder. And all this while, the kernel of need in her core is building and building, and her juices are flowing and melting her insides with heat and making them go all soft and achy with want.
“Sam,” he says hoarsely, “I need to fuck you.”
She needs him to fuck her too. The tunnel of her pussy literally clenches with her need to be filled by him. It’s a visceral hunger. A scorching culmination of her manifested desires.
They don’t even make it to the bed.
She takes his glistening cock out of her mouth, and he reaches for his jeans pocket to take out a little silver foil packet.
“Here, put it on me,” he says.
Her fingers are trembling as she takes the condom packet from him. She rips a tear into it with her teeth. Then she takes out the little circular fold of rubber and rolls it slowly, oh so slowly, onto his stone hard cock.
“You’re good,” he teases.
“I wish I can say I’ve had plenty of practice, but I don’t.” In truth she is nervous. Nervous that she wouldn’t measure up to his usual standards – to the hundreds of women he has obviously bedded.