Something Reckless(18)

Behind his back, I lock my feet at the ankles and loop my arms around his neck, holding on tight as he leads me up to more and more pleasure.

Suddenly, he spins me around and settles my ass on the bed. In a smooth motion, he’s changed our positions, moving my legs so my ankles are resting on his shoulders and his cock slides even deeper.

When he drives into me from this new position, his eyes locked on where our bodies are joined, I do cry out, and he groans his approval and pumps harder.

“I needed my hands free,” he murmurs. His fingertips graze my breasts and he pinches my nipple. “I needed to touch you.”

I watch him, trying to memorize how dark his eyes are as he fucks me, the way they roam over me again and again, as if every part of me is fighting for his attention and he can’t decide where to give it.

But then his eyes drop between my legs and stop roaming altogether. He focuses on watching our bodies come together through thrust after thrust.

His thumb strokes my clit, and my back arches off the bed. He pumps into me again. Again. All the while, stroking that sensitive piece of me until it’s almost too much.

“Tonight, you’re mine,” he whispers again.

And it’s those words and the intensity in his eyes that pushes me over the edge and has my body contracting in orgasm.

He turns his head and places a tender kiss on the arch of my foot. Then he thrusts again, the head of his cock swelling inside me. His jaw tightens and he comes too, hand wrapped around my ankle.

After he goes to the bathroom to clean up, I curl into my bed and remind my heart that it wasn’t invited to this party.

I don’t normally do this. I’m not the kind of girl who tries to mentally rewrite every hookup into a happily-ever-after. My mind understands that sometimes I just need sex for the sake of sex. But this is Sam, and my brain has never been very good at showing up where he’s involved.

He’ll want to leave. Maybe he’ll take Connor with him out of some misguided protective instinct, but I don’t expect him to sleep over. So when he comes back into the room and slides into bed with me, when he pulls me into his arms so my back is against his chest and his arms are wrapped around me, I’m waiting for the goodbye. The thanks for the good time, see ya around.

Instead, he kisses me just below my earlobe and says, “Sleep well, Rowdy,” and settles his head into the pillow as if he intends to sleep with me in his arms.



* * *





Sam


I know better than to stay, but I can’t make myself go. I tell myself it’s because Connor is sleeping in her living room, and I don’t trust him not to try something with her, but that’s a bunch of bullshit. The truth is, I love the way she feels in my arms and the way her hair smells, and I don’t want to leave.

I never intended to take her so roughly tonight. I can’t believe I fucked her against the wall. But my attraction to Liz has always been something that skates on that line between want and need. I don’t mind want. Want is a thing you can control. Want you can deny. But I hope to never need a woman the way I felt like I needed her tonight. Need makes me weak. Desperate. Completely under her power.

It’s not that I expected her to still be a virgin. Hell no. She’s a damn fine grown woman with a healthy sexual appetite and confidence to boot. I didn’t think she waited all this time for me, but the idea that Connor was her first . . .

My arms tighten around her instinctively. I don’t like this jealousy I feel, but I can’t deny it either. I fucking hate that she gave him her virginity. I guess part of me was waiting for her to come back to my room after she turned eighteen. I was cocky enough to believe it was me she wanted, not just anyone.

Fuck Connor.

I swear he’s wanted what’s mine since the day I met him. He was fascinated by my family—the size of it, the way we all seemed to sincerely love each other. Part of me was happy to give him a place there. I brought him home on holidays when his parents couldn’t be bothered to scrape together the money to fly him back to California; I got him the internship working for my father as he laid the groundwork for his political campaign; and I introduced him to Della, his now girlfriend, despite my mother’s objections over them living together before they’re married.

Part of me has always known Connor’s a better fit in my own life than I am. My father loves him, my mother thinks he’s a prince, and he loves my big family when it’s always made me feel claustrophobic. It’s like he’s taken the parts of my life that I denied—the job with my father . . . Liz.

I bury my nose in her hair, and she sighs in her sleep, a soft, sweet sound. “He can’t have you,” I say. “You’re mine.” I try to mentally add for tonight, but it feels like a lie. I want more than tonight. I don’t want to miss another night falling asleep to the smell of her hair just because I’m scared I might be more like my father than Connor will ever be.