Page 79 of Wicked Me
He stood slowly from his crouch with his chin tucked to his chest, and he somehow reminded me of a wild animal. Raw and powerful. His mouth parted while his gaze lingered on my chest, my center, my legs and back up again, my flesh, my soul bared just for him. In that moment, I knew I could trust him with all my truths, and it unburdened my entire body.
I smiled at him, big and goofy, and I didn’t even care. “I want to be yours, Sam.”
Something glinted in his eyes, not lightning but a spark from within. Then he charged, his mouth seeking mine, and pushed me into the living room with one of his thighs between mine.
The force of my renewed need multiplied with the friction his leg created. He matched my fervor, chasing my tongue, while he shifted us around the leather couch and straight into a floor lamp. It toppled to the floor, but I barely noticed.
He crashed onto the couch with me on top so I straddled him. His hands trailed up my rib cage to cup my breasts, and I arched into them while he pinched my nipples between his knuckles. Between us, his erection pointed straight up. Breaking our kiss, he rolled a fresh condom on and looked at me as if waiting for me to slide down onto it and ride him into oblivion.
I touched my forehead to his and positioned myself over him. His penetrating gaze never wavered as I slowly took him into me. A soft moan escaped at how good he felt, and I moved with him, deeper, faster, harder.
Neither of us closed our eyes; we watched each other as if we were afraid we might miss something. Face-to-face like this, it felt less like pure fucking and more like we were clutching to each other’s hearts.
My nipples dragged against his chest every time I grinded against him, rolling them into buds he caught in his mouth and suckled. He worked a hand between us and played his fingertips where we were joined until my whole body throbbed. All these sensations, the glide of his tongue across my nipples, his hungry gaze, the feel of him inside me rushed me to the brink of ecstasy once again.
I threw back my head with a moan, his name on my lips, then collapsed against his mouth so he could come with me.
“Oh, fuck... Paige.” He rolled his hips into mine with slow thrusts, milking his release, then sagged against the back of the couch with a laugh. “Oh my fucking god.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I happily sank into them to inhale the musky leather from his neck.
His pounding heart knocked into my chest, the same tempo as mine, both of them in time to the raging thunderstorm outside. And in time to the blossoming warmth in my chest that grew into a different kind of ecstasy.
Slow and steady, I was falling in love with Sam Cleary. I could only hope he felt the same way when he knew the truth about me.
23
Sam
REAL LIFE PUT MY SEXUALfantasies to shame. Kissing Paige, fucking her, hearing her moan my name—it was enough to drive me mad. And I couldn’t get enough. Lucky for me, neither could she.
Once against the wall while the lightning outside flashed shadows across her golden honey skin. Once on the couch. But hey, who’s counting?
It was so damn incredible with her. I didn’t think I could pinpoint exactly why, but the sex on the couch was especially mind-blowing. Maybe because she rode my cock like a bad librarian. Maybe because she was the most special thing I’d ever held. Maybe because I could see her,allof her, like she’d bared her fucking soul to me. I wanted that again. Over and over again.
The next morning in her bedroom, when she looked up at me with a sleepy glaze over her eyes and wrapped her arms around my back, my whole body, not just my dick, instantly responded, and I was ready to go. Not just inside her but anywhere she asked me to. A total goner, like I’d been since I first met her.
“Sam?”
