Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(52)

My hand flew away as he surged all the way in.

No, no. I was wrong.

This was perfect.

He started moving, slow, deep, his eyes on mine, his free hand roaming my skin.

I was wrong again.

This was perfect.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hand at the base of my throat, his c**k driving deeper, going faster, harder. “Fuck,” he repeated, his hand moving down my chest, between my br**sts. I lifted my legs at the knees, pressed the insides of my thighs to his h*ps and he drove in deeper then faster and harder. “Beautiful,” he kept muttering, his hand down at my belly then down. “Every inch.” He planted himself inside and stayed deep, grinding. “Inside and out,” he finished and his thumb hit me.

Okay, no.

This was perfect.

Sam kept thrusting and watching and that was hot. His thumb pressing and rolling was hotter. Both my hands went to the headboard and I pushed into it, driving myself down as he drove himself up and that, that was amazing.

“Sam,” I gasped.

“Ride me, baby.”

“Sam!” I cried.

“Fuck yes,” he growled and I came again, my back arching off the bed, my hands pressing deep into the headboard grinding myself down on him and this one tore through me, hot, searing, devastating.

Still coming, I felt Sam’s heat and weight hit me, one hand plunging into my hair, fisting, he pressed my face into his neck. The other arm wrapped low on my hips, clamped tight and took over driving me down on his cock. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and alternately breathed, whimpered, moaned, gasped and tasted his skin.

Then his hand in my hair pulled my head back, his face went into my throat, his c**k thrust deep and he growled his orgasm against my skin.

And call me crazy, hearing it, feeling it, Sam’s big, warm body heavy and covering me; listening to his orgasm was almost better than actually having the ones he’d given me.

And the ones he’d given me were freaking spectacular.

His fist relaxed in my hair but his hand didn’t leave it. His fingers sifted then twisted gently, tangling in the strands and staying there as Sam kept his c**k rooted, connected to me and, as I tilted my chin down, his head slid up so I felt his breath under the skin of my ear.

Finished, I was languishing in the feel of all that was him, his heat, his power, his weight all held tight in my circling limbs, the aftermath, the connection of Sam still deep inside, his breath at my ear.

Then it hit me he wasn’t speaking.

And then it hit me that Sam communicated. It couldn’t be said I had a lot of experience with guys but my friends did and they talked about them all the time, talked as in bitched, and one of the things they bitched about the most was that the men in their lives never communicated.

Sam did.

All the time.

He was open. He was honest. He shared.

But now he wasn’t saying a word.

Oh God.

Shit!

“Uh…” I forged into the silence then asked quickly, “Was that okay?”

Sam didn’t answer immediately.

Then he didn’t answer at all but instead asked, “What?”

I kept my eyes glued to the ceiling and repeated, “Was that, uh… okay?”

Sam’s head came up and he looked down at me.

God. God.

He was beautiful.

Even more beautiful covering me and connected to me.

“Was that okay?” he repeated my question.

“Uh… yeah.”

He stared at me.

Then he burst out laughing, throwing his head back to do it and everything.

In the middle of it, his body suddenly collapsed on mine, I wheezed when I took his massive weight but I took it for a nanosecond before he rolled, performing a miracle as he did because he kept us connected even when he was on his back, I was on top and somehow I ended up straddling him.

I lifted my head up and looked down at him to see he was still laughing.

“I wasn’t being funny,” I whispered.

Both his hands came up to either side of my head and I watched him struggle to control his continuing laughter as he took in my face.

Then he asked, “Was it okay for you?”

Okay was not the word for it. Okay was not just not in the ballpark. Okay was not even in the same galaxy.

I did not share this with Sam.

Instead I answered, “Yeah.”

He kept chuckling but he moved his hands from my head and wrapped his arms around me and repeated my, “Yeah.”

It was safe to say I didn’t know what to do with that.

So I sought clarification.

“So is that a yeah, it was okay for you or a yeah, you heard and comprehended my yeah through your amusement?”

“Both,” he said through a grin.

“Oh,” I whispered, my eyes moving to the pillowcase. “Okay,” I finished.

“Kia, eyes on me,” Sam ordered gently and my eyes slid back to him to see he wasn’t smiling anymore and there was no trace of hilarity. He was focused, intent and serious but all of that in a tender way that made something important shift inside of me. “Makin’ you melt for me then makin’ you light up for me, listening to you get excited, feeling it, tasting it, eating it.” His words made me shiver and it helped that his hand was gliding up my back, my neck and into my hair then he pulled my head down so my face was an inch from his and he continued on a whisper, “Feelin’ you come against my mouth, watchin’ you drive yourself down on my dick, listening to you moan as your pu**y clenched around my c**k when you came, baby, yeah, that was all okay, that was better than f**kin’ okay. It was f**kin’ beautiful.”