Page 128 of Gym Bros
I might throw up. I nod again.
“You’re my favorite person I’ve ever met.”
Oh God.I manage a wobbly smile even as my eyes heat and all my messy emotions rise to the surface.
When my voice starts to work, it’s only in a whisper. “I think you might be mine, too.”
Samuel’s mouthtastes like the sea and expensive wine.
He loved the oysters. He didn’t even finish his entrée because he kept wanting more. Watching the way he enjoyed them got me painfully hard beneath the tablecloth, and now I’m in severe danger of tearing the seams of his new suit to get to his skin so I can taste that, too.
We’ve made it as far as the edge of the living room rug. “Get this off,” I say with naked frustration at the nice fit around his broad shoulders.
He shrugs the jacket off and tosses it to the couch. His tie is already undone. He did that in the car along with opening his top shirt button. My fingers fly through the rest of them with surprising dexterity considering how anxious with need I feel. He takes care of his belt buckle while he keeps trying to distract me with kisses.
I manage to get his shirt unfastened and untucked, and he gets his pants open before I’m back in a lip lock with him and he’s hoisting me off the floor. I wrap myself around him, sinking my tongue over and over again into his mouth where it meets his in thick, delicious licks.
“Couch?” he asks, in a rough low voice. “Bed? Or do you want me to get creative?”
“Bed,” I say. “Definitely bed.” I need room. I need to see him. All of him. Lights on—everything.
As he hauls me toward his bedroom, he says, “I thought all that stuff about oysters making you horny was on old wives’ tale.”
“Watching you eat oysters is what made me horny. They were good and everything, but you were…”
“I was?”
“You were.”
Without letting go of me, Samuel follows me onto the bed, his hands smoothing over my overly styled hair, and his mouth never far from mine. He keeps about half his body weight on me, which is his way of not crushing me while still kind of crushing me. His hand moves up and down my sheer shirt. “This is gorgeous,” he says.
“You should see the rest of it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Get me naked, Sam.”
He eases off me so I can sit up and take off my jacket. Meanwhile, he’s sliding off my boots and peeling off my socks.
I lie there and let him work methodically from the bottom up, adoring the focused look on his face too much. He gets to my belt and fly. Once they’re undone, I lift my hips for him and then my legs as he slides the fabric off me.
“Baby…” he whispers.
I fucking die a little bit every time he calls me that. The top I’m wearing is actually a bodysuit. A crotchless bodysuit with cage straps on the ass. He hasn’t seen that part yet, though. He’s staring down at my other accessory. When I was getting dressed, I was considering the entire look, a layer at a time, and the body suit is sexy, but it was missing a little something. So I added a random leather strap to my left thigh. A garter, if you will. It works.
He runs his hands over the leather and the buckle securing it to my thigh. “Does this serve a purpose?”
“None whatsoever,” I tell him.
“I love it. It makes your dick look amazing.”
I smile and give his head a rub, wanting his eyes back on my face for a second.
He gives me his heated stare. “You’re just…stunning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. Somehow it means the most when he says it. More than it’s ever meant from anyone. When Samuel says it, it feels like more than an appraisal of my looks or my choice of clothes. It’s appreciation. Of my style, my appeal. It’s even, dare I say, a tacit acknowledgment of my adoration. As though he understands that I wouldn’t dress like this for just anyone. That I do it specifically for him. To show off for him and surprise him. To turn him on.
He doesn’t know I now shop with him in mind, but he must know I dress for his very specific gaze.
