Chapter Three: Something's Gotta Give
They make their ways through the tests of Monday; three floor fights, mountains of paper, insufferable colleagues and when the end of the day rolls around, it's one the in the morning. Sam gets home first, tosses his keys on the island, rips off his tie, and storms up stairs to his bathroom. He's trying, and failing, to forget the pointless drudgery turned to irritation that was his day. He turns on the shower and strips down, enjoying the heat rushing over his back. His exhaustion and tense state triggers a vision of Ainsley, a combination of a half remembered dream and the memory of her pressed against him.
He feels himself go hard under the warm spray and groans. His forehead meets the shower wall with a hollow thunk and, despite his better judgement, his hand wraps around his stiffened cock. He bites back a moan as he strokes the head, feeling a bead of precum mix with the water. He closes his eyes and imagines her soft, pale form clothed in red lace, the crests of her full breasts straining against the material. He watches as she flips her hair over her shoulder and turns away from him.
Her hands skim slowly over her ribs to her waist, her hips and all the way down her legs. She pulls the red panties down as she goes and that imagined image of her bent over her legs spread slightly for him is enough to make him cum with a drawn out moan. He doesn't hear the door to the apartment open and close as he scrubs his skin clean.
Sam washes his hair and watches as the soap suds swirl down the drain before reluctantly turning off the shower. He steps out and heaves a sigh, mentally cursing himself. He's forgotten to do laundry again and there are no towels in his bathroom. He strides dripping across the wood flooring of his room and opens the door carefully, listening for signs of Ainsley. He cautiously leaves his room and wrenches the linen cabinet open. He reaches for a towel and freezes as he hears a shriek from the direction of the stairs.
He bites his lip and looks over his shoulder. "Shit." Ainsley is frozen at the top of the stairs, her hand empty, a spilled glass of something rolling around on the floor at her bare feet.
"Good lord almighty." Her eyes are wide as she sweeps her gaze over him. He's well muscled, his skin golden even after months of being away from the California sun, a koi fish tattoo curled on his deltoid muscle below the cap of his shoulder, and as for his package, it spoke for itself.
She looked away abruptly feeling her face heat slightly. She had seen her share of the masculine half of the species, but none of her previous beaus held a candle to Sam. He was very nearly flawless. She gathered her pluck and looked up at him, thanking god that he had pulled a towel around himself.
They stared at each other for a moment. "Hi Sam." Her voice is steadier than she had expected it to be.
"Ah... Welcome home Ainsley." His voice cracks slightly as he says her name. A smile curls her lips as she makes her way towards him, his unease and her hormones giving her a rush of confidence. She reaches around him and retrieves a rag from the top shelf, stretching to reach it. He catches a glimpse of the small of her back and looks up towards the ceiling, wondering what he did to deserve this torture.
She picks up the dropped glass and cleans up the liquid and as she passes him he swears her hips undulate more than normal. She disappears into her room and closes the door with a soft click. He leans heavily against the wall and his head drops back with a thunk.
Ainsley is leaned against he back of her door, trying to get the heat burning in her cheeks to fade. It takes its leave of her face and decides to pool somewhere else. She grits her teeth and tries to ignore it as she tosses the dripping cloth into her shower. She brushes her teeth with more force than is probably warranted, as if scrubbing her teeth clean will somehow clear the image of Sam's wet body from her mind. She closes her eyes and lets the image bloom behind her eyelids.
She sees his strong chest, the arch of his collarbones, the flat planes of his stomach, the easy definition of his abdominals that leads to the stretch of skin over the sharpness of his hips. She calls to mind the curve of his ass, the dimples of his back that ride on the crests of his pelvis, and the perfect bumps of his spine that lead to the wonderful broadness of his shoulders. Her recent dreams have done him no justice.
She's shaking, trying desperately to ignore the heat between her legs as she changes into her sleeping clothes. She curls under the covers and stares off into the darkness. She remembers Sam holding her as she reeled from the death of Daniel. He was always the gentleman around her. She likes so many things about him; his earnest school boy confusion when he's at a loss, the fire and strength that flares up whenever he is angry or protective, his loyalty to the people he cares about, the fact that he hates shoes and barely tolerates suspenders at formal dinners, his optimism, the way he sets his jaw when he's intent on something or being stubborn, and the intensity of his eyes. She adores his smile, the one that means he's actually happy.
She loves the way he looks when he rumpled with his hair and tie askew, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. She loves his gentleness and the shifting blues and grays in his eyes.
She closes her eyes to find a memory of his face displayed in her mind. It was like she had slowed down a film of one of his smiles. She loved watching them grow on his lips and deepen the slight lines around his eyes.
She took longer that normal to watch his eyes as this memory of a smile played in her mind. She watched as his blue eyes sparkled and grew impossibly bluer. Her chest seized up as she noticed the intense emotion boiling in the blue depths.
Ainsley's eyes are opened impossibly wide and she stares at the faint light seeping in under her door. Oh Sam... She is propelled out of bed and through her bedroom door into the hallway from the intensity of the feeling. She's standing barefoot starring at his door at two in the morning. She notices a gap in the door and pushes it open carefully, stepping into the quiet room.
She's standing beside his bed, her feet chilled by the cool floor, she can hear his breath, see the outline of him in the blankets and somehow it feels like she's not here; it feels like this is just a dream until he turns over, groggy with sleep.
"Ains?" The light clicks on and he blinks a few times, trying to adjust.
She's frozen, her hair falling around her shoulders, her green eyes wide in realization. She dredges up some memory of him whispering "always" as they turn in lazy circles to the sad words of a slow song.
"You said 'always'..." She notices the panic in his eyes.
He's propped up on his forearms, all traces of sleep gone. She realizes what the feeling that brought her here is; she loves this man. She covers her mouth with a hand and sinks to her knees as the comprehension crashes over her like a breaking wave.
"Ainsley!" Sam is kneeling in front of her, looking worried and scared. He puts a hand on her shoulder and their gazes lock, sea green with blue. She grips his forearm to steady herself, surprised at how warm he is. She studies his face noticing the slight bits of grey beginning at his temples, the slight creases around his eyes that she loves so much because they show how much he smiles and the stubble along his jaw that is also beginning to grey slightly.
She carefully cups his jaw in her hand. His eyes close and he leans into her touch, a look of longing on his striking features. She kisses his forehead, the corners of his eyes, and the corners of his lips. His eyes open and she can feel the weight of his breath against the inside of her wrist as he turns to kiss her palm as if to say, 'finally.'
He lets her sink into his arms wordlessly and he just holds her.
She stays frozen like that until her knees hurt too much to stay on the floor. She leaves the circle of his arms and sits on the edge of his bed. He joins her quietly. She can tell he wants to know what brought her into his room. She's scared to admit what she's discovered; scared that he will look at her sadly and tell her he doesn't love her.
Sam is studying her intently in the warm light. He knows that he loves her. He loves all the little things, loves that they have no secrets, loves her sweet tooth, her accent her stubbornness, her quirky sense of humor, and her brilliance. He could think about all the details of her for hours, he has before, but he would never name everything that makes her who she is.
"Sam, I..." He shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks at her. She takes a deep breath. "...I love you. All the little things, all the things that make me mad, the things that make me want to kiss you, and the gentleness that you have for me." She cannot look at him, so she stares at the wood grain of the floor.
He stares. The words sink in. Something in his chest gives way and he feel like he's high. Before she knows what's happened he's gathered her to him and he kisses her. Her hands twist into his hair and he groans. He pulls back and meets her lidded eyes, panting.
"God, Ainsley. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I love you Ainsley Hayes." She's smiling at him and running her hands through his hair. His eyes slide closed and he feels her shift to straddle his lap, her face cradled against his neck. Sam fights back tears as it hits him that she's there, in his arms, that she loves him.
She pulls back gently, just enough to be able to see his face. "What's wrong sugar?"
He can tell that she's worried, but he can't speak. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him gently. It's everything he's wanted in the world, here in this moment, in his arms. He pulls back carefully.
"It just..." He tries to find the words. "...this. There is nothing wrong with this." She smiles at him and he feels like the room brightens.
Ainsley pushes her trepidation down and feels the space in her chest fill with rightness. She feels light. "It feels right, for once in my life, being with someone feels right."
Sam tries to hold in a yawn and fails. Ainsley laughs and he looks sheepish at best. "Sorry."
She shakes her head, stifling one of her own. "It is sometime in the middle of the night. We should sleep, talk about this tomorrow." She gets up to leave and her breath catches when his hand on her wrist holds her back.
"Stay." His eyes are steady, not pleading or begging, not commanding, just steady. She holds still for a moment and he drops her hand. She takes a step away and she can hear him roll under the light covers on his bed. She makes it to the door before she stops.
Sam hears her run towards the bed before she is under the covers and curled around his back. He shifts slightly, not saying anything, as her tense hand slides from his shoulder over his arm to rest over the back of his hand. She can feel his bones and tendons shift as he splays his fingers. She relaxes her hand and her fingers fall into the perfect spaces between his.
Ainsley feels him sigh, as if accepting her attempt at saying she's sorry without words. He's shockingly still for a moment before he twists and pulls her across his body, enjoying the slide of her long legs over his hip. She yelps as he settles her in front of him. Ainsley stares at him. His eyes are closed, his brow smooth. He smells sleepy. She thinks that's a ridiculous thing to say, but it's true. He smells like clean linens, a warm summer breeze, and the rest is the concentration of how he always smells.
She smiles. This is where she has secretly always wanted to be. Pressed up against his wonderful body, in his bed, in the safe circle of his arms, able to enjoy him without guilt or the fear of getting caught staring.
Ainsley dreams about them that night. He has her thoroughly ravished on the kitchen island, her summer dress pushed up to her waist. He's between her legs, making her writhe as he does devilish things to her with his tongue before he takes her. She tugs on his hair feeling her climax rushing up on her hand he comes up panting, the fly of his pants hanging open and the head of his cock pressed against his stomach, aching.
She pulls him in for a kiss, her hand griping the back of his head and he moans into her mouth. She can taste herself on him as she gently bites his pouting lower lip. He groans, she feels the head of his cock brush her folds. He pauses to whisper filthy nothings in her ear and her hand crumples the pages of the cook book beneath her fist. He begins to enter her and...
...The dream is gone. She opens her eyes blearily and revels in the man she is draped over. He smells wonderful. She can feel his hardness pressed against her and she feels the wetness left behind from her dreams. She tries to will it away, but he shifts behind her, grinding into her and she gasps. She moves from under his arm to sit on his thighs below his impressive erection. She hovers over his beautiful body, her hair falling to tickle his skin as she presses a kiss over his heart.
She feels him stir beneath her. She presses hot, open mouthed kisses along his chest and feels the vibration of his groan. She smiles against his skin, feeling his muscles twitch in anticipation as she bites down on a soft spot just below his left collarbone. She kisses a path down his midline, interspersing her gentle ministrations with sharp nips. His hips flex as he searches for friction and she braces her hands against them, holding them down.
She looks up when he growls slightly. "Good morning Sam." She knows she's being coy, but it seems to be received well because he groans again and looks down at her.
"Oh god. Ainsley, this is one hell of a way to wake someone up." He's more tempting than ever; his hair mussed and sticking to the fine sheen of sweat on his brow both from the heat and from her teasing. She can tell he's been biting his lower lip because it's red and swollen. She slithers back up his body and kisses him. He kisses her back and the heat intensifies as she lets his tongue enter her mouth and his hands find the rucked up bottom of her camisole at her waist. His fingertips draw lazy patterns across the skin of her lower back. It's driving her crazy.
She pulls back, her voice is a husky whisper against his neck. "Let me finish what I started, hmmm?" kisses down his neck and he swallows, trying to find his voice.
She begins again, starting higher than before and works her way down his chest to his belly button. She pauses there, her breath fanning against his skin, watching him. His hands are twisted in the sheets, his head turned slightly to the side making the cords of his neck stand out. He's panting. She says his name quietly, his eyes snap open and she can see the ardor smoldering in the nearly eclipsed irises. She feels another shock of desire shoot through her and pool wetly in her core.
"You are gorgeous Sam." She eases his now tented sleeping pants off him as he arches his hips involuntarily.
"Women have told me that before..." He looks more than a little sheepish about admitting it.
She smiles slightly and his hips jerk as her reply fans against his cock. "They weren't wrong."
Ainsley looks up at him through her lashes, he's entranced, her warm, damp breath fanning over him. He watches breathlessly as she slowly bends and licks his head, swirling her tongue and carefully gathering the fluid that has begun to leak out. He moans and his hand buries into her hair. She licks Sam from root to tip before she takes only the head of his cock into her mouth and sucks.
"God...Ainsley!" He cries her name sharply as she takes him deeper into her mouth and swallows before retreating. She looks up at him and is captivated by the expression on his face. She hums in pleasure, relaxing and taking him deeper so that she can feel him nudged against the back of her throat. She hums again and his hips buck.
His hand tightens in her hair, and her name turns into a moan. "Stop."
She releases him from her mouth and takes in the sight of him as he sits up; his chest is heaving, his eyes hooded and wild with pleasure. Her breath goes shallow as he grips the back of her head and plunders her mouth. He groans into her mouth as he tastes himself on her, suddenly needing to feel her skin pressed against his. His free hand slides up the side of her camisole and she breaks the kiss.
She crosses her arms and lifts it from her body fluidly. His hands reverently slide from her waist to rest level with her breasts. She hears him whisper "...so beautiful..." then gasps as his thumbs brush the sensitive sides of her breasts and she arches in his grasp. He kisses her neck and her head rolls to the side to give him more access as he slowly works his way to her breasts, taking all the time in the world to draw nonsense patterns all across her skin. She draws out the syllables of his name when he takes a nipple in his mouth and gently bites the hard bud, his other hand toying with the neglected breast before he switches sides.
Intoxicated with his gentle manipulation of her body, she begins to rock against him slowly and he is reminded that she is still wearing her sleeping shorts. She wiggles against him in an enterprising way and they both gasp as his tip momentarily slides along her wet folds. Sam pulls away from her succulent breast and takes in her flushed face and the long, pale column of her neck as she throws her head back.
"Ainsley..." Her name is a reverent whisper on his lips. Her eyes open slightly and she gazes at him through her lashes. "Soon."
Sam is far beyond words as he gently coaxes her from his lap and tosses the rumpled bedding from the bed to lay her out across his smooth cobalt sheets. She watches him, nervousness blooming in her as he sweeps his gaze over her body.
"What is it?" Ainsley is not use to the kind of scrutiny.
Sam takes her hand and kisses it. She feels a shock go through her at the contact of his lips. "You are so beautiful, a pale, unattainable goddess spread across my sheets. What did I do to deserve you?"
Her blush is fetching. "Oh..."
He laughs quietly against the skin of her stomach. "It's the truth Ainsley..." He sits back to look at her for a moment, his lips returning to her mouth as his fingers curl around the waistband of her shorts. He pulls back slightly and before the question can leave his lips, she simply nods and arches her hips allowing him to slide them down her amazing legs.
She is unshaven, but sculpted, trimmed, and glistening with wetness. He carefully moves her legs apart, kissing the insides of her thighs and gently opening her folds to his eyes. He looks up to find her biting her lip and the worried expression in her eyes. He blows a gentle breath against the sensitive skin and she shivers.
"Perfect..." Is all he says before sinking a single finger into her wet heat, making her cry out. He strokes her as he moves back up her body, delighting in the sounds he is drawing from her. He reaches her lips and whispers endearments against them as she arches below his body.
"Please...God... Sam..." She is tightening around his fingers and he stills before she can fly over the edge.
He gently removes his fingers, licking them clean. "Not just yet..."
Ainsley can taste herself as he kisses her deeply and her hands tangle into his soft hair. He feels her body calm down somewhat and he gently begins to work her towards the edge. It takes far less time before she is writhing against him, her hands tight on his shoulders.
"Now..." The word is a drawn out moan. "Sam... Please." He can feel his painfully high state of arousal and withdraws his fingers for the last time. She moans at the loss of contact.
"Ainsley," He has remembered something through his haze. "Do we need protection?"
Her brows furrow gently and she stares at him for a moment before she understands what he's asking. "No. I'm on birth control and I was tested."
"Okay. I've been tested as well." He gasps as she takes him in her hand. "Ainsley, that's not..." She guides him to her opening and he growls as he feels the heat and wetness against him.
"Now, Sam, or I might have to-" She chokes on the end of the statement as he buries himself to the hilt. He stills, giving them both time to adjust. When she intentionally flutters her inner muscles around him he gasps and begins to move.
The pace begins slow and loving, giving him time to worship her body, but quickly becomes frantic as she grinds hard against him and he is forced deep into her slickness.
She moans softly with every sharp thrust and they gain intensity as she gets closer to the edge. He feels his orgasm rushing towards him as she keens his name and her walls grip him tighter.
"So...gasp...soclose..." He drives into her harder and hits a spot that makes her shout and flutter around him in completion, with his name on her lips and flashes of white in her vision. She meets his frenzied thrusts, riding through her aftershocks, until he comes with an expletive and a deep groan of her name.
He has the presence of mind after his incredible orgasm to roll off her and to the side, panting. The sound of their combined, harsh breath fills the room for a moment while they both come down from the incredible high. She sits up slowly, feeling dizzy, and moves to rest her head on his smooth chest.
"Good lord, Sam." She feels the rumble of his laugh in his chest.
"That good?" He's playing with a strand of her hair, she watches him, content.
"Let's just say it was well worth the wait." She's tracing absent patterns over his chest, waiting to hear his reply.
"Yes, it was; more than worth the wait." He captures her mouth in a kiss.
Her stomach growls and he breaks the kiss laughing. "That's my girl."
She tries to be offended but fails miserably, joining him in laughter. She wobbles slightly as she stands from the dark sheets of his bed. Sam is still sprawled across the sheets, watching as she bends to pick up one of his dress shirts and pulls it across her shoulders, tossing a saucy look over her shoulder. He's out of the bed in an instant, pulling on his previously discarded pajamas as he follows her into the kitchen and swooping her into his arms. She's laughing as he kisses her briefly and sets her gently on her feet.