Page 73 of Night Shift

I leaned over and gave his hard shaft a couple of slow strokes. “I’m sure you won’t mind a little more untidiness.” I winked. “Turnabout is fair play, after all.” Slowly, I ran my nails up the tender skin of his inner thighs, and then I sank between his knees, keeping my eyes locked on his. Scooping out some coconut oil, I coated my hands and began massaging it onto his cock. His eyes became hooded with pleasure as I slid oiled fingers over the tip, down the shaft, and around his balls. Firmly, I drew one finger up and down the sensitive skin beyond his balls, eventually teasing his puckered hole. A low groan escaped him. “Remember, you have to watch,” I reminded him, wrapping my slick hand around his throbbing length and licking my lips.

“Trust me, watching you suck my dick is no hardship,” he said with a chuckle as his eyes darkened.

I giggled, then moved closer and opened my mouth, taking in his glistening cock. My tongue swirled around the head and over his meatus, tasting him and savoring him before moving slowly down the shaft. I sucked gently, increasing the pressure as I worked toward the base while the veins throbbed beneath my eager lips. The coconut oil made it easier for me to take more of him into my mouth with each stroke.

When I sensed him nearing climax, I stopped abruptly, pulled away, and blew cool air across his sensitive skin. His chest heaved, and he glared at me. “Don’t fuck with me, Samantha,” he growled, “or you’ll get more than you bargained for.”

“Big talk from a man with—” He brusquely grabbed my hair and yanked me toward his cock.

“Finish. You’re not leaving me like this,” he said firmly, and I obliged but took my time, softly teasing his taut frenulum with my tongue before flicking it back and forth across the sensitive band, eliciting a soft groan from him. A bead of pre-cum emerged from the tip of his cock, and I carefully allowed the drop to roll onto the tip of my tongue. Meeting his eyes, I smeared the slick drop across my lips like sinful lip gloss. His dick twitched in response.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he praised as I moved down to lavish attention on his balls, licking and sucking on them while rubbing my thumb around the sensitive skin of his tight hole. Atticus squirmed, tangling his fingers in my hair and growling. His rumble ignited the heat between my thighs.

Taking a deep breath, I rose up on my knees and guided his cock back into my mouth, pressing the head against the back of my throat. Atticus moaned, further twisting his fingers in my curls as he began pumping in and out of my mouth. I grabbed his firm, round cheeks in each of my hands to steady myself against the force. Although I tried to accommodate him, swallowing around his thickness, I struggled to breathe and suppress my gag reflex. His grip on my hair became almost painful, and he forced himself deeper. He began to control the rhythm and depth, pushing me past my comfort zone as his cock filled my throat. The coconut oil helped, but only so much.

Atticus’s thrusts grew more aggressive. Suddenly, he shoved his dick down my throat. Panic set in when I realized I couldn’t breathe any longer. Desperate, I looked up at him with pleading eyes and tried to blink away the tears streaming down my cheeks. In response, he offered a dark smile, pulling out just long enough for me to gasp before plunging back in and pounding my throat mercilessly.

In a last-ditch effort to regain some control, I slipped my lubed-up finger into his tight little asshole, surprising him. He let out a guttural groan and released his load down my throat in waves, finally letting go of my hair. Gulping for air, I slid off of him, licked my lips, and swallowed hard, drinking down his cum.

Still reeling from the intensity, I collapsed against his hip, panting. I didn’t move for a long time, lightheaded from all that we’d done.

Breathing heavily, he glided his fingers through my hair while we took a moment to gather ourselves. He cleared his throat and let out a cleansing breath, then reached down to grip my waist and pull me up and onto his lap so I was straddling him.

Heat rose in my cheeks when his finger traced over one of my breasts. Even though we’d just been as intimate as we possibly could be, his intense gaze made me a little shy. It was as if he could see right through me. His brow furrowed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

I dipped my head, unsure of how to put my thoughts into words. “I…I really believed that you weren’t interested in me. That you didn’t want me because I wasn’t experienced enough or on your professional level…or any of another million reasons.”

“Look at me,” he said softly, hooking a finger under my chin and lifting my face. “Does this not feel like I want you?” He glanced down at his growing hardness that was pressed against my core.

“You acted as if I didn’t exist. You never considered inviting me to the gala. And before the cabin, you flirted with me at work and even pushed me to go hiking, of all things. Then nothing. I just don’t get it. I guess I fell under your spell. Hearing so many women, especially Bethany, talk about what an amazing lover you are…I was curious, and you knew that. You knew exactly what I wanted…what I needed.”

“I get it, but you made me promise never to bring it up again, and I was respecting your wishes. I wanted to earn your trust. Since you were adamant that I not acknowledge anything between us…not even use the nickname I gave you, I figured you thought I was too old or something and moved on.”

“Well…you are awfully old,” I teased, poking him in the ribs. “But you’re in pretty good shape and still seem pretty sharp.”

Laughter rumbled from deep within his belly, sending vibrations to my most intimate places, causing me to laugh too. Pulling me closer, he pressed his lips to mine in a tender kiss before pulling back and studying my face, taking in every detail. He brushed his thumb over the tattoo beneath my left breast, curiously tracing the arrow design.

“What’s the story behind this?” he asked.

“Unbroken, Still I Rise,” I whispered, repeating the phrase inked into my skin. “It’s inspired by Maya Angelou’s poem. It represents resilience, triumph over adversity, self-love, and self-acceptance. I got it after graduating from college with my nursing degree. You know, with everything I’ve been through—my dad’s addictions, losing my mom when I was eight—this tattoo is…well, it’s my badge of courage, a reminder of my strength.”

His expression softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. “You’re so strong, Sammich. You have no idea how lucky I feel to have you in my life. You’re unique. I’ve never wanted to share my life with a woman before—” He kissed me tenderly, making my heart race. “But I have to be honest with you—you gutted me when you accused me of fucking women all over this house. I’m not the man-whore Bethany makes me out to be. Yes, I’ve had my share of lovers, but few have come into my home.”

Playfully, I pressed my forehead against his. I couldn’t resist asking, “So how many women have you been with? Have you fucked other women on this very sofa?”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, he caressed my arms and shoulders, gathering my hair into a ponytail behind my back. “Samantha, let’s not talk about past lovers, okay? You can’t change the past, and it only causes problems. It doesn’t matter how many there were before; the only one who matters is the last.”

The implication of his words sank right into my soul. In that moment, the connection between us seemed to strengthen, and the storm of anger and passion that had been raging between us quieted. It allowed me to consider what truly mattered.

Atticus broke the silence. “I need to understand what happened between you and Conan. I know you said you didn’t…you know, fuck my brother, but I’ve got to know where you stand with him. The way you kissed him at the gala, the look in your eyes, Samantha…it was…God, the way I’d want any woman to look at me.”

His words, almost an accusation, stung. I took a deep breath. “No, I swear, I haven’t been with anyone since we were together in your cabin. Yes, Conan kissed me at the party, but I was only into it because I was sad and angry, perhaps vulnerable…”

He blinked, appearing surprised by my answer.

I pushed forward, needing him to understand. “So when Conan tried to kiss me again in his room, all I could see was you…and he knew. Conan knew I wasn’t into him. He figured out right away why I couldn’t let him touch me. And like a gentleman, he backed off. We played video games until I got the call about my apartment being ransacked by those thugs.”

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