Page 57 of Takeover
He found the lube under a shirt and pulled a strip of condoms out of the duffel on the table. Sam still stood by the bathroom door, a picture of need and desire—so very different from a scant few minutes before.
Sam was stillhere, had chosen to be with Michael. For a moment, it seemed as if the floor dipped. Michael caught himself on the table and fought for breath, heart full of all the words, the endearments he wanted to blurt out before it was too late. There was time, now, to say those things. More than one night. A future. A chance.
He pushed off the table and made his way back to the bathroom. “Inside.” He gestured for Sam to lead, then admired the welts that covered the long line of Sam’s back—the marks he’d left, the pain and pleasure and peace he’d given Sam. There was that dizziness again. He put the condoms and lube on the counter. “Sam.”
Sam turned, all teeth and brilliance, and dropped to his knees.
“If you—” The rest of Michael words, even what he’d planned to say disappeared when Sam wrapped his lips and hand around Michael’s cock. Michael groaned and barely had enough time to grab edge of the bathroom counter before his legs crumpled.
God, that hot, tight, wet mouth. Sam pumped Michael’s shaft with one hand, gripped Michael’s hip with the other, and his tongue—that fucking tongue of his—slid back and forth against the underside of the head. Lightning danced down every one of Michael’s nerves, setting his skin on fire.
Bracing himself against the counter, Michael tightened his fingers in Sam’s hair and took back some of the control he’d lost to that talented mouth, slowing Sam’s bobbing—but not his damn tongue. He thrust forward, deeper each time—inviting Sam to surrender.
As before, Sam relaxed and opened, taking Michael’s stroke down to the root. Again and again. All the time, Sam never missed an instant to tease Michael with tongue or hand—that is, when Michael let him.
That slick heat, Sam’s low moans around his shaft, the fire racing down his nerves with every thrust—it all felt too damn good. The sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sam’s stretched lips, Sam’s deep gasps for air mixing with Michael’s own harsh breathing. Every sensation enflamed, ached his balls, need like a cord binding him to Sam. The musk and sweat and sex in the air, in his mouth. The pounding of blood, the fire winding tighter and tighter in his core. In his soul.
Sam looked up and met Michael’s gaze—his pale eyes full of desire and surrender—and something far deeper. Hope. Love. Michael closed his eyes against the blinding light of his orgasm and spilled himself down Sam’s throat.
When Michael could see again, when the trembling stopped and he didn’t need the counter to keep his legs under him, he looked down and found Sam still sitting at his feet.
“You’re stunning when you come, did you know?”
The warmth in Michael now had nothing to do with his fading orgasm. “No one’s ever told me that, no.”
Sam rose, somehow graceful in his motions, despite his breathlessness. “Pity.” He closed the distance and kissed Michael. As an equal. A lover.
Yes, they played games, took on roles, but this—this was heaven, too. And God, he loved tasting himself in Sam’s mouth. Michael broke the kiss. “And here I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”
“I do.” Sam turned and eyed the glass-enclosed shower. “Looks big enough for all kinds of fun.”
Maybe it was just from the exertion, the sweat, but the lines on Sam’s back looked redder and more tender. Michael traced his fingers down Sam’s skin, over the angry, raised flesh. “When we’re clean, I have some lotion for these.”
Sam shivered under Michael’s touch. “I don’t mind.”
Michael chuckled. “You will later. Trust me.” He drew Sam back and wrapped his arms across his chest. Sam hissed and arched against the contact, no doubt feeling every stripe the crop had left.
“Really, really don’t mind.” His voice, deep and gravelly, dripped with need.
Michael slid his hand down Sam’s chest and abs, then gripped Sam’s erection. “If you want another flogging, you’ll need to heal.”
“If you say so.” Disappointment in that whisper.
He kissed Sam’s neck. “I do.”
That Sam wanted more didn’t surprise Michael. Sam pushed every limit—both his own and Michael’s. Just how much pain could Sam take? How much did he want? How much could Michael give him and still feel comfortable? He’d made Sam fly each time, but had not even come near the space where Sam would ask him to back down.
And Sam had been beaten—truly beaten. Ice chased down Michael’s spine and he let Sam’s cock go. “I need to know something.”
Sam must have heard the change in Michael’s voice, felt the tension in his body. “Anything.”
“Why this, Sam? Why, after all you’ve—”
Sam rotated in Michael’s loosened grip and swallowed the rest of Michael’s words with a breathtaking—literally—kiss.
Michael sucked in a gasp of air when Sam freed him.
“That’s why.” He grinned in a way that should have been illegal in most states.
