After sucking on her nipples, I kiss my way down her stomach and flick open the button of her jeans. I sit up long enough to pull them down her thighs along with her panties. Her pussy is shaved, so pretty and perfect and glistening with her juices. My cock presses against my jeans, the friction becoming too painful to stand.
I lean forward and drag my finger along her slit, pushing two fingers inside her to test her slickness. She smells so good I want to lick every inch of her. Her eyes close as she raises her hips to push my fingers deeper.
“I take that back,” I say, dipping my head between her thighs to lick her clit. “You’re a bad girl.”
She opens her eyes to watch me, a smile on her lips. Her moans turn into screams, loud enough to wake everyone a block over on Greek Row. Sam puts on a show by gripping my hair between her fingers and screaming my name like a porn star.
It’s always the shy, quiet types who surprise you. When we were together freshman year, I had no idea she was the teacher’s pet type. I had just assumed she was a sorority chick.
After she comes, I strip off my clothes in a hurry and roll a condom down my length. Her eyes widen as I do this, and she licks her lips.
Sam moans in my ear as I rest my elbows on both sides of her head taking it slow enough to kiss her. Her nails dig into my back and drag along my skin as I quicken my pace. The first time we were together I fucked her like a puck bunny.
Now, she’s my girlfriend.
It’s different this time.
I want to satisfy her every need.
“You won’t break me,” Sam mutters against my lips.
Giving her what she wants, I pound into her pussy harder and faster, ripping a few screams from her lips. Gripping her hips, I claim every inch of her body, her pussy tightening around my cock. She’s so close I can feel it like a balloon that’s about to pop. Knowing how close she is, I chase her orgasm wanting to make her come again.
She does. And it’s beautiful. Her body tenses before it relaxes, and once she fully lets go, her body trembles with each thrust of my cock. Sam has a sexy glare in her eyes as if she’s just come down from her high. I ride her high, mine right behind hers, consumed by the orgasm commanding control of my body.
I collapse on top of her, kissing her lips before I roll onto the other side of the bed. Glistening in sweat, I look over at her. With her hair wild and cheeks flushed, she’s incredible, the only girl who has ever made me feel this way. I’m not sure if it’s love. My feelings for Sam are so strong and unfamiliar I have no idea what to call it.
Sam curls up next to me, her sweat-slick skin pressed against mine, her face buried in the crook of his neck. I’m at a loss for words. I’ve never felt like this after sex. For the first time in my life, a sudden calmness washes over me. She puts me so at ease, making it easy for me to fall for her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tucker
Sam looks terrified as I park my car in front of her father’s house. She stares out the window biting the inside of her cheek. We haven’t spoken a word since we left the grocery store. I’ve heard plenty of stories about Jim Marchand—he sounds like the worst person on the planet. What kind of man would make his kid struggle the way he has Sam? I already hate him, and I haven’t even met him.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Sam squirms in her seat, shooting me a worried look. “I hate coming here. You don’t have to do this with me.”
I reach across the armrest to clutch her hand, holding it against her thigh. “I’m here for you, Sam. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“He’s not violent.” She squeezes my hand tighter and sighs. “He’s just an asshole who doesn’t care enough to get his shit together. Seriously, you can wait in the car, and I’ll run the food inside if you want.”
“Hey,” I say, brushing my fingers along her jaw, staring into her eyes. “I’m here. Let me do this with you. We will get through it together.”
She closes her eyes for a second and lets out a deep breath. “I’m so embarrassed of Jim. You come from money. You have famous parents, famous aunts and uncles, and I come from this,” she says, pointing at the rowhouse. “From a drunken degenerate gambler.”
“Did I ever tell you about Preston’s family?”