Greetings!
This is not a new fic, strictly speaking. I am simply consolidating all three existing fics into one complete story, at the request of a few people. There aren't any edits or changes from the original fics; I just wanted to put them in one place for . . . easier access? Yeah, let's go with that. So I hope you enjoy this multi-chapter smutfest and please leave a reveiw if you're so inclined. I lovelovelove hearing from my readers!
Unleashed
Sam Radford was edgy.
Twitchy.
Unsettled.
In point of fact, he was downright tetchy.
The house was finally settled and quiet (guests were in bed, Nick — well, Nick was pretending to be in bed; his father had no doubt whatsoever that he was, in fact, blowing up some evil alien overlord. Or possibly a giant mutant dinosaur; it was difficult to tell the difference and to his shame, he'd tried.), and Sam could, at last, acknowledge the reason for his irritable mood.
He was a newlywed who had been separated from his wife of less than four months.
He had known when she left that he wouldn't sleep well. All-nighters at the hospital aside, it had taken Sam precisely three days (well, nights) to require Cassie's presence in his arms in order for him to actually sleep. And that was just a general night of rest; he certainly slept much better after they made love, which happened a lot more frequently than he had expected when they (finally) got married.
Hence the reason for his less-than-stellar mood.
They had waited until their wedding night to consummate their relationship (and it had been incredible; Sam had actually found himself reminiscing about it more than once, and every time he did, he also took a moment to thank God that he had met Cassie. He hadn't realized how jaded and — well, bitter, he'd become. That said, he would not tell Cassie this fact under pain of death; he still had a crumb or three of his male ego left.) and, while they weren't acting like horny teenagers in the first blush of youthful infatuation . . . well, that was only because neither of them was a horny teenager. But they were definitely trying to make up for lost time and Sam would state with absolute certainty that they weren't even a tenth of the way to achieving that goal. God willing, they never would.
And this train of thought was not helping. He was so hard now that it actually hurt and every heartbeat was pounding out Cassie's name.
He really didn't want to take care of himself in the shower, but even though half of him was aching to call his wife and . . . work this out together . . . the other half was beyond hesitant to do so. Their lovemaking was incomparable, but it was also very — gentle. Soft. Serene. And Sam sure as hell wasn't complaining about that, but he occasionally found himself having to hold back his darker, rougher desires, much like he was feeling now. Cassie was so tranquil and — and tranquil that he was afr— no. No, Sam was wary of unleashing the full force of his hunger for her, and not just for her body. He yearned to give her the passion that she and only she had ever called in him, wanted it so badly he couldn't breathe for it at times, and he craved hers just as desperately. Even Linda, in that first flash of youthful lust, had never inspired such overwhelming want in him.
But Cassie . . .
He wanted to take her, claim her, and have her claim him in return.
But he had the strong impression that she had never really experienced that kind of sex, despite the deep well of passion he knew she possessed. They hadn't talked about it in detail (which was odd, actually, considering the other topics they'd covered both before and after their wedding. Huh.) but her responses to him, as well as the fact that she had yet to initiate anything — though she never refused anything he wanted to try, and was always eager to touch him once they got started — told him a lot.
After all, this was the same woman who didn't realize that she had put herself on a dual (or was it a duel?) date with himself and Ryan during his ill-fated attempt at distracting himself from her by trying (and failing) to date Stephanie . . . and who also had no idea just how much Ryan had resented Sam for his intrusion into the other man's hopes, much less his irritation at how often Cassie would put Sam ahead of him when he needed something. Of course, she also had no clue about how badly Sam had wanted to punch Ryan in his perfect teeth (nearly every time they met, if he was being honest) and it wasn't just because of his smugness regarding his closeness with Cassie; Sam had quickly tired of the constant one-upmanship. Not that it had stopped him from participating, mind, because he was male and did have his own rather justifiably large ego, but it had rapidly gotten tedious. And the less said about John Dover, the better. His relationship with the archeologist hadn't been nearly as contentious as his dealings with Ryan, but it certainly hadn't been easy or relaxed. Dover didn't have the proprietary air toward Cassie that Ryan had — something that had annoyed Sam beyond belief, because a blind man could see how uncomfortable it made her — but he also wasn't shy about exploiting his past with her in an effort to secure his place in her future . . . and unlike with Ryan, Sam had been genuinely worried that what John was offering would be what Cassie ultimately wanted.
Sam had always just wanted Cassie to be happy, his feelings for her notwithstanding, but the woman appeared utterly oblivious to the effect she had on men. Cassie just seemed so damned . . . innocent . . . sometimes.
It was entirely possible he was wrong, of course, but . . . he didn't think so.
(And what did it say about him, he wondered, that this thought pleased him? Well, actually, he knew: it said that he loved her beyond all reason and while he would never begrudge or resent her marriage to and love for Jake Russell, he would also never stop thanking God that he was the man she had chosen to gift with her love and her life, and that they were able to share new experiences with each other.)
So maybe he should call her. At the very worst, she wouldn't be open to — well, phone sex (there was no putting it delicately). But . . . this was Cassie Nightingale, the woman who delighted in surprising him at every turn. And it suddenly occurred to him that maybe she was afraid of asking him for the same reasons he was hesitant to bring it up himself.
While his heart and his libido battled it out, Sam mechanically moved to close and lock their bedroom door before kicking off his shoes (and enjoying the solid thud he got as they hit the wall opposite the bed in a way that only a man frustrated nearly beyond his endurance can) and pulling off his socks. As he dropped back to sit on the edge of the mattress, Sam's heart (and fear) won out and he sighed, closing his eyes and raking a hand through his hair in aggravation. But then he took a deep breath and got a lungful of the scent of eucalyptus that had come to embody Cassie to him, mixed with the tang of the previous night's farewell, and his lust exploded, flooding his system like a Halloween sugar rush and leaving him dizzy with want.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Cassie was the living embodiment of that. And they had so much to gain.
Without another thought or second of hesitation, Sam grabbed his phone, dialed her number from memory, and hit 'call.'
Cassie Nightingale sighed in sheer relief as Willow finally left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving her alone (and thanking God that not only was Abigail in a different room, but she herself wasn't bunking with anyone) for the first time since they'd left Grey House that morning, whereupon she locked the door with what some might say was unusual emphasis, then promptly fell heavily into the nearest chair and absently toed off her shoes and socks. She was slightly — well, a lot, actually — shocked at how edgy and restless she felt, something that had crept up slowly throughout the day but had suddenly exploded in the last hour or so. She was hot and flushed and her entire body itched from the inside out. It was a sensation she'd never experienced before and it was coupled with a deep yearning that was so intense but confusing that the sound of her cell phone ringing literally made her jump out of the chair she had collapsed into.
Her distraction was strong enough that it had clouded her ability to sense emotions and she was so rattled by the depth of her unusual feelings that she didn't check the caller ID before answering.
"Hello?" she said a lot more breathily than she had meant to. Or known she was capable of, for that matter.
"Hey," a beloved voice murmured huskily in her ear. Hearing Sam's intimate greeting immediately settled her restlessness even as it intensified the ache and Cassie abruptly understood. She flushed with embarrassment mixed with arousal at the realization that this unexpected onslaught of feelings was her missing her husband's touch; as much as she'd loved Jake and enjoyed their intimate life together, it had never been — carnal. Erotic? No, carnal seemed right. Jake had always been tender and gentle with her in bed and she had never wanted otherwise, never even thought to try the morning quickie or making love against the wall or jumping him the minute he walked in the door. That had never been Jake's personality, or hers.
But Sam . . .
He'd never said anything, but sometimes she could feel his desire to . . . well, she wasn't quite sure, but it excited her even as it unnerved her. And while she trusted Sam completely, she found herself surprisingly (and irritatingly) reluctant to ask him, simply because she didn't quite know what she would be asking for. She knew full well that she was safe with him but she was still a little afraid of her own desires and, while she adored Stephanie — and Abigail, despite herself sometimes — this wasn't a subject she was willing to broach with either woman.
"I miss you," Sam breathed, drawing her attention sharply back to him, and she caught her breath as her focus finally tightened for the first time in several hours and she realized that part of what she was feeling was Sam. He wanted her so intensely that she sensed it across two states and that knowledge was . . . a lot of things. Foremost was a desire that hadn't been this deep and potent since . . . since their wedding night (and what a night that had been! It still made her shiver when she remembered it.). She loved Sam, she loved touching him, and she loved the feeling of his hands and lips on her. And she most definitely had no complaints about their intimate life! But so far, he had taken the request she had made of him when they started dating — no pressure — quite literally to heart.
"I miss you, too," she replied softly, reaching for him the only way she could while attempting to work through the new, surprising understanding that she . . . didn't necessarily want that anymore. Sam would throw himself off a cliff before he hurt her and she — well, truthfully, if she asked him to help her hide a dead body, he'd quirk an eyebrow and go get some lime. And it was that unexpected acknowledgement to herself that Sam Radford would support her unconditionally, no matter the circumstances or the reasons, that had her biting her lip against an unexpected surge of passion. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to shove him on his back, climb over him, and use him as her personal jungle gym, smorgasbord, and artist's palette. Simultaneously.
Before she had time to be shocked at her own thoughts, he upended her world so thoroughly that he literally knocked her feet out from under her and she only just managed to collapse on the bed, phone clutched in one hand and the other fisted in the duvet.
"I want to touch you, Cassie," he rasped, the hunger in his voice making her shudder and rendering her incapable of speech. "And the only reason I haven't driven up there to do it in person is because this weekend is one of the most important mother-daughter bonding times you and Grace will ever have and I'm not going to interrupt that."
His thoughtfulness and sweetness brought a lump to her throat and she swallowed hard, unable to speak for a different reason now.
"Also, Abigail is with you and that woman takes a positively fiendish delight in interrupting when we actually have more than 45 seconds of privacy," he added a touch petulantly, which drew a soft laugh of rueful amusement from Cassie; it wasn't like he was wrong.
"So . . ." he said, drawing out that lone syllable and immediately focusing her full attention back on him.
"So?" she finally prompted after a minute or so of silence, her heart pounding with excitement and her body positively singing with both anticipation and nerves.
"So . . . I was wondering if —"
He trailed off again and she waited (mostly) patiently, finally understanding at least a little of what he was feeling. After several deep breaths, he spoke, the huskiness of his voice making her shiver.
"I want — I want to touch you like this, Cassie," he told her as the intensity of his feelings washed over her again, causing her to stuff her fist in her mouth to bite down a moan of raw desire even as confusion flared up.
"Like this?" she repeated, caught off-guard by the low timbre of her own voice. She was fairly sure she knew what he meant, but she was completely unaware of how to go about it.
"Oh, yes," he murmured, that honey-drenched tenor she loved so much sliding down her ear and into her veins, heating her blood and drawing another throaty moan from her. "Will you let me touch you like this, sweetheart? I know it's not ideal," he added before she could even begin to answer him. "But it seems that I've been remade so that I can't be apart from you anymore, even for a night."
And damn if that didn't send liquid tears spilling down her cheeks even as her body caught fire.
"Of course you can touch me, Sam," she replied, biting her lip in nervous anticipation before finding her courage and continuing. "I always want you to touch me."
"Cassie," he groaned, his voice so full of desire that she nearly combusted just from hearing it. He breathed her name again, clearly fighting for control, and she swallowed hard at both the hunger radiating from him and at the realization that they were really going to do this.
And for one of the few times since she'd come into her abilities, Cassie Nightingale had no idea what would happen next.
It was a bona fide miracle that Sam didn't climax the second Cassie told him she wanted him, but he was so worked up that he didn't even think to ask if she was sure. And, frankly, he respected that she knew her own mind and would have told him 'no' if this wasn't something she wanted.
Wait.
This was something she wanted.
He went completely still for a minute to fully absorb that. His wife wanted him to help her climax with nothing more than a few of his fantasies given voice.
Then a feral smile came to his lips and he couldn't have stopped the soft growl that rose in his throat for all the coffee in Columbia.
"Are you still wearing what you had on this morning?" he asked softly, shifting on the bed until his back was resting against the headboard, his left leg stretched out in front and the other bent so his right foot was flat on the mattress. His free hand was absently stroking across his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt invoking the feel of Cassie's tender caresses and amplifying his excitement.
This wasn't going to take long at all for him, a realization that only fed his voracious desire to make sure she got as much satisfaction and enjoyment from this as she could handle first.
His zipper felt like a medieval torture device but Sam resolutely ignored it; nothing short of the actual end of the world was going to stop him from making her splinter into a thousand shards of satisfied, satiated woman as many times as she wanted before he even considered himself. He was actually salivating a little at the thought.
"I — yes," she answered slowly, a clear question in her voice. Despite his rampant arousal, Sam smiled tenderly; the depths of Cassie's love for him still took him by surprise sometimes. In spite of her obvious inexperience with this, she trusted him. So he forced himself to slow down a little, shifting to the softer, gentler start she was used to so he didn't overwhelm her.
"Good," he told her, firmly tamping down the passion that was trying to drown him; his time would come soon enough. "Now, close your eyes."
He waited a beat, knowing full well she was giving the phone a dubious look and unable to hold back another smile. God, he loved her. "Trust me, sweetheart."
"Always," she replied without hesitation, and he just stopped breathing.
"I love you," he finally managed to choke out, his throat clogged with emotion.
"And I love you," she replied softly, her voice sliding across his nerve endings and setting his blood on fire.
"Then close your eyes," he repeated, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
"I — okay," she whispered after a few seconds. "They're closed."
The desire for her that was always simmering just beneath the surface swelled up at that and Sam had bite down a groan; this was Cassie's time and she was going to get his full and undivided attention.
"All right," he murmured, closing his own eyes. "I'm going to touch you now, Cassie, but I'm going to use your hands."
She wasn't able to completely choke back her moan and his cock twitched at the sound, bringing another feral smile to his lips. This was going to be amazing.
"Brush your fingers across your lips," he said tenderly. "That's my mouth, Cassie, just saying 'hi.'" She pulled in a quick, sharp breath at this and his smile widened. "And now I'm running my hands up your neck so I can lift your hair up, like I always do," he continued, his voice going a little darker as he pictured her in his mind's eye: skin flushed and eyes wide with arousal, fingertips lightly skimming up the delicate skin of her throat as she chased the not-quite-ticklish sensation his touch always evoked when he did that.
A tiny whimper came to his ears and he smiled again, opening his eyes on an inhale as he decided what he wanted to do next.
"Does that feel good?" he whispered, knowing from experience how erotic his voice would feel right now to her heightened emotions. She'd told him more than once that his voice had an actual physical effect on her during their lovemaking (and if he'd been smug for a day (or several) after first hearing that, well . . . yes. Yes, he had.).
"Y-yes," she breathed back, that tiny hitch making Sam's heart pound even harder. "Wh-what now?" The innocent anticipation in her voice would have sent him to his knees had he been standing. It took several seconds before he could speak and it was all he could do to keep his passion leashed.
"Now . . . I'm brushing my palms across your nipples," he said, deliberately pitching his voice so she would have to exert a bit of effort to understand him. He'd come to a much greater understanding over the last few months about just how . . . connected . . . Cassie was with her immediate surroundings, especially if there were people around. He didn't really know how her abilities worked, but it mattered little; he had found that the stronger her feelings, the more open to other emotions she became, so he had perforce also learned that the best way to help her focus and stay in the moment was to give her something specific to focus on.
In this case, his voice. The fact that she enjoyed hearing him talk was an added bonus. The fact that he loved talking to her was chocolate icing on the yellow cake.
Her breath hitched again at his words and he could almost see her shock at the brazenness of his words . . . but that tiny whimper came to his ears again and he held his breath so he could listen to her enjoy her own touch. He was rewarded with another soft moan and had to wrap his arm around his bent knee, squeezing tightly for several seconds in an effort to find some relief from the lust now rampaging through his body. He was more than a little shocked at how — erotic — this was, but he was enjoying the hell out of it.
"I'm doing it again," he whispered, holding his knee more tightly in an effort to keep his voice steady, and was rewarded with a louder moan of pleasure. "And again."
A startled gasp drifted across the phone line and he was unable to suppress his reaction this time.
"Sam?" Cassie said hesitantly at the sound of his soft groan.
"It's okay," he reassured her. "I just . . . I love hearing how much you enjoy it when I touch you like this."
He could hear her smile and his lips quirked up in response when she said, "Then don't stop, Doctor Radford. I'm feeling a little flushed and seem to be having a hard time catching my breath."
For some inane reason, her playfulness caught him completely off-guard and he huffed out a surprised laugh even as a wave of lust rose up at her words.
"Well, then, Mrs. Radford," he rebutted, his voice deepening, "we'll just have to remedy that situation. I want you to lose your breath completely."
She gasped again at his words and he growled softly in return, rising to his knees and spreading them for balance as he yanked off his sweater, leaving him in jeans and an undershirt. "So I'm going to take off your bra — but leave your shirt on."
The rustling of clothes being removed should NOT sound so erotic over a cell phone, but that sound combined with the mental image of her actions was nearly overwhelming.
"Mmm," she moaned, the sound sliding across his throbbing cock and pulling an answering moan from him.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice raw with want. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Cassie?" he added, rubbing across his left nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt and biting his lip to keep his soft cry contained. "Do you know how incredible it is to feel you come apart in my hands, my mouth . . . sometimes I just want to bury myself inside you and stay there until the end of time."
"Oh, Sam, yes . . ."
His restraint shattered.
"Lick your palms," he said roughly, pinching his nipple and sucking in a sharp breath when the bite of pain swirled into pleasure. "Then rub them across a nipple, and squeeze. That's my mouth, Cassie. I'm suckling you and teasing you and it's one of my favorite things because you are so damned responsive."
"Sam!"
Her shocked, breathy cry of desire nearly finished him and Sam groaned, dropping the phone so he could squeeze himself tightly through his jeans and stave off his orgasm. He didn't matter right now; Cassie came first.
His hands were shaking when he picked the phone up and he counted it a minor miracle that he didn't drop it (or accidentally end the call) as he put the device to his ear before shifting so he could grab the headboard with his free hand in an attempt to keep himself steady.
"I'm doing it again," he rumbled, knowing that she was quickly approaching the brink and not caring. She loved him playing with her breasts more than he did. "I'm rubbing and licking and mouthing your beautiful, magnificent breasts and I swear to you, Cassie, that they were made just for me. You were made just for me and I still can't believe that I'm the lucky man who gets to touch you like this, love you l—"
A soft, bitten-off scream interrupted him and Sam's hand tightened on the headboard until he thought his fingers would crack from the pressure. Had she just . . . ?
"Cassie?" he whispered shakily, his hand clenching around the phone. Her only response was sobbing, shaky breathing, and he bit his lip, forcing himself to patience through deep, even breaths. If he was right, she'd be out of it for a minute or two.
"Oh, my God," she finally groaned, sounding shocked. And aroused. "Oh, Sam, you, that, that was — that was amazing," she choked out, her voice thick and a little unsteady.
"You're amazing," he replied tenderly, overwhelmed with love. They sat there silently for a moment, just basking, but Sam needed her to come again more than he needed to breathe, so he sucked in a quick dart of air and murmured her name.
"Cassie . . ."
"Yeah?" she said shakily. Sam couldn't help his smug smile, knowing that she was still feeling the aftershocks of what sounded like a magnificent orgasm that he had helped give her. From a different state. With nothing but his voice.
Focus, Radford.
He had one more in him for her and it was going to be spectacular, but only if he could hold himself together. So he drew on the formidable willpower he'd developed in med school, honed while running one of the busiest emergency rooms in the country, sharpened against the stress of being a single parent, and perfected while he and Cassie endured the minor eternity of actually being able to get married (and then get to their wedding night). With his mind clear, at least for a few more minutes, Sam brought all of his focus to bear on one single goal: sending Cassie Radford Nightingale into a screaming orgasm using nothing but his voice.
And if it was a little (okay, a lot) rough, well . . . he was a man teetering on the brink.
"I want you to sit on your knees and spread them a little for balance, just enough to be comfortable," he told her. "And then take your shirt off . . . but don't touch your skin at all. Put the phone down if you need to."
"Yes, Doctor Radford," she purred and he groaned. God only knew why, but hearing his wife call him that was one of the biggest turn-ons Sam had ever experienced and as his ears were again treated to the erotic sounds of Cassie removing her clothes, his own arousal swelled up so sharply that he had bite harshly at his wrist in order to stay in control.
Just a little longer. It wouldn't take much to send Cassie over the edge again and then she could do whatever she wanted to him.
And he could not wait to see what she wanted to do to him.
"I'm . . . I'm ready for you, Sam," she suddenly whispered, and the embarrassment mixed with her arousal tugged at his heart, softening his lust with a gentler passion.
"I know, sweetheart," he replied, sitting back on his heels and giving her his undivided attention. "And you're gorgeous, with that sweet flush running all the way down your chest and those adorable little goosebumps and your nipples pebbling for me because they're missing my mouth."
"Mmm, yes," she moaned in agreement, embarrassment gone, and he heard her running her hands down her torso. The image combined with the sound to make him choke on a gasp of envy because he wanted it to be his hands, a gasp that folded itself into an unrestrained growl of lust when she breathed, "Yeeeessss. I love your mouth, Sam, and sometimes I wish we could just stay in bed all day because I think you could talk me to an orgasm a—"
And Sam, who had no CLUE this was a fantasy of hers, cried out as he dropped the phone, sinking his teeth into his left wrist and squeezing the base of his cock brutally hard with his other hand. He managed to keep himself from coming, but every last shred of restraint he possessed had just evaporated.
"Then that's the second thing we'll do when you get home," he growled fiercely, snatching the phone from the mattress and running his other hand through his sweat-soaked hair before grabbing the headboard again. "But right now, I want you to take your jeans and those sexy little green lace panties down to your knees."
There was a beat of silence, followed by her hesitant, "Sam?"
"As badly as I want you naked and spread out in front of me, Cassie," he told her, his voice going to gravel as he fought back his ever-increasing flood of desire. "I don't think I can give you the attention you deserve that way and . . . I don't think you want to wait right now, either."
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed in response, torturing him by taking the phone with her as she unzipped her jeans. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to follow suit, but she was going to get his full focus until she climaxed (and, quite frankly, when he was finally able to see to himself, he would very likely be unconscious almost immediately from the force of his orgasm. It was a good thing he wasn't working at the hospital tomorrow.).
"I can only imagine how wet and ready for me you are, Cassie," he said roughly, again pushing down the now-constant waves of lust flooding him. "So I want you to touch yourself however and wherever you want, do whatever it takes to make you come, but . . . "
He trailed off, partly because his own words were threatening to topple him over the edge, but mostly because he wanted her fully invested in her own pleasure. And his knowledge of her insurmountable curiosity somehow managed to stay at the front of his lust-soaked brain.
Sure enough, she didn't last five seconds before he got a breathy, "But 'what,' Sam?"
He deliberately held off in answering her for several heartbeats, drawing out her anticipation with a slightly-wicked glee. When he heard her take a breath to speak, he grinned and crooned, "But I want to hear every single thing you're feeling, Cassie."
The stunned silence this evoked widened his grin to a near-smirk, and he took full advantage of the situation.
"That means no lip biting, Cassie Nightingale," he continued, licking his own lips in ravenous anticipation. "No holding back your moans, no swallowing those soft little cries . . ."
A quiet moan floated to his ears and he groaned in response. God, she was so incredibly sexy and he was the luckiest man on the planet. No, in the universe. And he loved her completely.
"I just want to hear you, Cassie," he murmured. "I can't see you fall apart for me, but you can tell me, and I want that more than anything else in the world right now."
She made him wait for it, and he shook his head with rueful self-deprecation. One of the things he loved most about her was the fact that, with him, she gave as good as she got.
"Then I would hold on to something, Sam," she purred, causing him to go cross-eyed from raw lust. He was officially the luckiest bastard God had ever created and she needed to know that.
"I am holding on to something, sweetheart," he replied softly, all teasing gone. "I'm holding on to you. Can you feel me?"
"With every heartbeat, Sam," she whispered back. Tears sprang to his eyes. "I can feel you, I can sense you, and I love you."
Sam swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the depths of emotion that he felt for this woman.
"I love you," he choked out, swallowing again. "And I'm yours completely. Anything you want of me is yours; all you have to do is ask."
"Really?" she asked, a hint of wicked enjoyment in her voice, and Sam found himself smiling as the mood heated up again. His wife was incredible.
And sexy.
And on the edge of what sounded like the most amazing orgasm ever experienced by a woman.
"Really," he confirmed, his voice dropping in pitch again. "But not yet. I need you to come for me first, Cassie."
There was another beat of silence before she answered him, and that answer nearly knocked him flat on his back.
"Well, far be it from me to deny you something you want so badly," she brazenly murmured. "But Sam . . . turnabout is fair play."
He involuntarily rewarded this with a gasp of shocked anticipation; when his wife decided she wanted to do something, it was all-or-nothing.
Thank God.
"Whatever you want me to do is yours for the asking," he said roughly, palming himself again because it was that or lose his mind. "But I have to warn you that tonight, you aren't going to get much."
"Wh—" she started to ask, only for him to (for the one of the few times in his life) ignore the manners his mother had beaten into him and keep talking; his willpower was nearly gone and if he let her turn their focus to him . . .
Not. Yet.
"Cassie . . . doing this with you has — is — it's — ah, hell," he sighed, running a hand through his hair as the mood shifted again. "You can't even imagine how — how hot this is, sweetheart, hearing you come apart for me and knowing it's because you trust me to love you. That is — Cassie, your trust is one of the greatest gifts I'll ever get and being able to give you so much pleasure because of that is . . . well, like I said," he explained, injecting a little playfulness into his voice; erotic banter was something they did really well and he felt the need to have more of it. "It — you — are sexy as hell and right now, the only thing I can think about or want is hearing you scream my name when you fly over that cliff."
An unrestrained moan of wanton lust was his reward and Sam gasped, once again forcing down what promised to be a spectacular orgasm. It was going to be a literal miracle if he lasted long enough for her to touch him.
"Well," she murmured in response to his impassioned plea. "What name would you like?"
He blinked.
"Would you prefer 'Doctor Sam Radford?" she purred. "Or Doctor Radford, or maybe just Doctor? Samuel? Oh! What about 'you sexy beast?"
Sam took a beat to absorb that and then burst out laughing. His wife was amazing. He had no doubt at all that she was able to feel the lust that had reached unbearable levels and given him this so he could maintain the control he was so desperately clinging to.
"Well," he said with another laugh, feeling that tight coil of desire finally ease a smidge. Okay, maybe a soupçon. But it was enough for him to breathe, so he did. "As appropriate as 'you sexy beast' is, I think we should steer clear of that one; it comes up so often in casual conversation that we'd never be able to keep a straight face."
Her answering delighted laughter soothed the raw ache of missing her that he hadn't even realized he was feeling until now, and Sam smiled, loving the joy she was taking in this moment, this experience. But he knew his wife well and so he understood that something else was going on — and he could make a strong guess at what was behind this sudden shift away from the scorching want they'd been feeling just a minute ago.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked in a tender voice, sitting back on his heels and closing his eyes so he could better focus on what she was feeling.
There was a moment of silence before she answered.
"I — Sam, I don't —" she tried, her voice soft and hesitant, but not afraid.
"Ssh, Cassie, I know. It's okay," he soothed her, his fingers twitching with the need to actually touch her, reassure her. "Remember: I'm the one who's touching you and I will give you whatever you want, whenever and however you want it. So if you enjoy it and it feels good, go for it, because that's exactly what I want."
Her breath hitched at his words and Sam felt a soft glow of pure happiness swell up. He had not been exaggerating when he told her that her trust was the greatest gift she could give him, and he desperately hoped she felt the same about him. Linda had done more than one number on him and before he started falling in love with Cassie, he had never thought he'd be able to trust a woman again with not just his heart, but his entire self.
It occurred to him that for someone as difficult to surprise as he was — and who hated them so much — he adored the fact that Cassie could and did make him love surprises.
Not that he would ever tell her this, mind, because that was just asking for trouble. But he did adore it, and her. So he smiled, took a deep breath, and put his entire focus back on her wants and needs. She deserved to experience all the pleasure she wanted from him and by God, he was going to give it to her.
"Lick your palms, Cassie," he murmured, his smile softening when he heard a startled "oh!" drift across the phone. He also felt a touch of smug pride; if surprising him was nigh-on impossible, catching her off-guard was like sneaking up on a ninja by walking on bubble wrap.
And yet he just had. Three-point basket for Sam Radford!
"You know, Sam," she said, only to immediately interrupt herself with a moan that had him clawing at the headboard in a frantic grab for control. "I — oh! — I think you love my breasts — yes — more than you love me . . . oooh . . ."
Dear. God.
She was going to kill him.
And it was going to be amazing.
No.
Focus.
Cassie came first. In every possible way.
"Well," he shot back playfully, loving that she was finally relaxed enough to tease him, even though she was likely still a bit unsure. "Right now . . . yes."
She gave him a charmed laugh that quickly trailed off into another moan and his hand tightened on the bed frame. By the time she finally came, there were going to be imprints of his fingers there, he just knew it. And he was going to bronze them so he could have a permanent memento of this incredible, amazing night.
"Mmm, Sam," she breathed, calling his attention back to her. It was a short trip.
"Yes?" he inquired in a silky voice. "Did you want something? My hands, maybe? Or my tongue? I do love to lick you, sweetheart; it's my second favorite taste."
This earned him another moan, one that he returned with interest, and then she suddenly gave a choked, high-pitched gasp that spiraled into a series of broken cries and moans, interspersed with what he thought was his name. And when he realized that she was finally flying over that cliff into orgasm, he went completely, totally still. He didn't even breathe. All he could do was listen in wide-eyed awe as the woman he loved more than life itself came apart under his voice and her touch, crying out for him.
Luckiest man in the UNIVERSE.
When she finally came down, breathing heavily and whispering his name, Sam could only give her a breathless laugh and an awed, "God, I love you."
She smiled and tenderly replied, "I know, and I love you, too, Sam. So much."
A natural silence ensued then and they just rested, basking in the afterglow, until Sam shifted so he could straighten up a little. The rubbing of fabric against his throbbing, aching cock tore another harsh moan from him. His wife's response to this was a low, throaty laugh and Sam groaned, squeezing himself again in a final attempt to hold off his orgasm so Cassie had at least a little time to play.
'Little' being the operative word, here. If he lasted more than a minute, it . . . well, he wouldn't put any money on that.
"Take off your shirt, Sam," she suddenly murmured, making him take a sharp breath as the reality of this hit him. Cassie Nightingale was about to talk him to orgasm.
"Your wish is my command," he said huskily, yanking off his undershirt so roughly he was pretty sure he heard it rip.
"Really?" she purred, sounding intrigued, and he growled in response, dropping the shirt in front of him and spreading his knees a little more.
"Always," he swore, making a monumental effort to keep his hands off his body until she said otherwise.
"Well, in that case . . . "
He gasped at the teasing note to her voice and squeezed his eyes shut, so far beyond desperate that there wasn't a word for it. Oh, that minx! She was loving this and so was he, and he needed her to talk more than his heart needed to beat.
"Get rid of the jeans, too," she instructed him, a wicked smile in her voice that sent a jolt of lust straight to his groin. "And your briefs. And then tell me what I see."
Going. To. Kill. Him.
His hands were shaking as he dropped the phone, opened his jeans, and managed to push them and his underwear down to his thighs before he just gave up, groaning in sheer relief as his cock finally got a reprieve for the first time since he'd heard her voice tonight. He sighed, unheard, and took advantage of the moment to put himself back on equal emotional footing with her before plucking the phone back up and setting it against his ear.
"What you see, sweetheart, is me, aching and throbbing for you," he said, hearing his voice going to gravel as his arousal spiked even higher. "And I'm trying so hard to get to you that my cock keeps bouncing off my stomach and it is weeping for your touch."
This got him a startled gasp and he grinned, enjoying her reaction. He was comfortable with his body in a way she wasn't (yet, and helping her become so was something he could not wait to do) and she had steadily eased his concerns about overwhelming her with his desires.
Besides, she deserved to know what she did to him.
"Oh!" she breathed, still sounding a little shocked . . . but also pleased. And — yes, that was a hint of 'smug' he heard.
Well, she had definitely earned it.
"Yeah," he drawled. "'Oh'."
"Well, then," she replied with quiet confidence, making his pulse (and other things) pound with anticipation. "Let me give you what you want."
She paused for just a second and he swallowed, praying that he wouldn't come the second she told him what to do.
"Will you —" she started, only to trail off again, and his desire gave way to tenderness. She'd become more confident over the last hour and minx she might be, but they were equals in all things, and she needed to trust that she would not — could not — frighten or repulse him.
"I will do anything you want, Cassie Radford," he murmured, taking a deep breath against the need that was clawing at his throat. He wouldn't touch himself without her say-so, but the wait was killing him. "No questions, no hesitation, nothing but eager obedience."
She took a beat to absorb his words, then gave an appreciative laugh and said, "Well. That is certainly good to know."
He grinned again in response to her happiness; she trusted him, but now she was learning to trust herself, and he loved that.
"So . . . let's take a page out of your playbook, Doctor Radford," she began, and he cocked his head, intrigued. His playbook was . . . extensive.
"Yes?"
"Mmm," she hummed, the sound hardening him even more (which he hadn't thought was possible). "Will you lick your palm for me, Sam?"
He moaned long and loud at that before biting his lip. Once he'd regained a measure of sanity, he brought his left hand to his mouth and laved his tongue across it, making sure to thoroughly wet the skin. Before he could say — well, anything, she swept the last ounce of his restraint away with a boldness that took him completely by surprise.
"Now rub your head with just your palm, and know that it's my tongue," she said in a bit of rush, sending him to the stratosphere when he understood what she was telling him.
He could not have held back his reaction for the world and his strangled cry echoed around the room as he obeyed, finally able to completely enjoy the ecstasy of her touch. Then she moaned into his ear, low and dirty, and he just went up in flames. Behind the roaring in his ears, he heard her gasp, "Come, Sam! Come for me!"
Two strokes and he was done, pleasure like he'd never felt before engulfing his body as he shattered, crashing into an orgasm so intense and spectacular that his vision actually went white as he toppled to his back and simply gave his body completely over to Cassie.
When he could finally breathe, he moaned her name into the phone that was, miraculously, still at his ear. He was sprawled on the mattress, flat on his back with his jeans and underwear tangled at his thighs, completely debauched . . . and so much in love, he thought he might cry.
Also, so sated from pleasure that he was pretty sure he'd never move again.
Totally worth it.
"Mmm," she hummed in response, and he cracked a faint smile at the smugness he heard; it wasn't like he'd been subtle in his appreciation and enjoyment.
"So . . ." she started, a hint of amusement teasing his ears. "How was it?"
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he mentally conceded this round to her.
"Oh, you know," he riposted easily, lightly, determined not to let her know just yet how completely she'd undone him. "So-so. I'm sure we'll do better next time."
"Really?" she said, somehow managing to sound both intrigued and knowing. "Well, then I'm glad we have something to look forward to."
He groaned at that and wiped his free hand across his face, still breathing heavily and feeling the rapid encroachment of sleep.
"I — Cassie, my love, that was amazing," he told her, struggling to sit up so he could at least get the rest of his clothes off. "And I wish that we could do it all over again, but I am literally about to pass out from — well, from being overwhelmed by you," he confessed, only to pause and smile when she made a soft, happy noise in the back of her throat. "Yes, sweetheart, you have completely wiped me out," he admitted, sliding to the edge of the bed and wiping off his stomach and chest with his undershirt before slowly, carefully standing up.
"Me, too," she said, sounding shyly pleased and yet still a little smug. It was an intoxicating combination and he couldn't wait to explore that further.
"Good," he replied. "Then that will be the third thing we do once you're home and in my arms, where you belong."
"Third thing?" she repeated. "And you mentioned something about talking me to orgasm earlier" (he groaned quietly at the reminder and the promise) "as the second thing we were going to do . . . so what's the first thing on your list?"
He hesitated for only a second before deciding to be upfront about his wish; this magnificent experience had shown him that she would be much more responsive to him than he'd feared for so long and he positively relished that thought. And when he considered what she might want from him . . .
His cock actually twitched at the thought, earning an amazed (and dubious) look from him. After the orgasm she'd just given him, that was nothing but wishful thinking. Though if anything could spark his interest just now, it was what he wanted — and intended — to do with her.
"Well, once everyone is gone or in bed and we are finally, completely, alone, I plan to take you hard and fast against our bedroom door — or wall, whichever works better for you — so you know just how badly I missed you. Then, once you've recovered from that, I'm going to take you to our bed and enjoy the hell out of you riding me, long and slow, until neither of us can move," he rasped.
A strangled moan was his only response, and he gave a feral grin. He heard shock, yes, and surprise, but also lust . . . and most importantly, there was no fear.
"But for now, we both need to rest, so I'm going to attempt to stay awake long enough to shower, and we will talk tomorrow."
"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. "That sounds sensible," she added, and he smiled. His dreams tonight were going to be so sweet (and hot; scorching, in fact. He couldn't wait.).
"I love you, Cassie," he said quietly, infusing his voice with every ounce of feeling he possessed. "And thank you for this. It has been the most amazing experience of my life, other than our wedding night, and I — I love you," he said again, unable to articulate his feelings any other way.
"I know," she replied. "I — I feel the same way, Sam, and I can't wait to come home to your arms."
A soft groan was all he could manage and he heard her smile at that before she said, "Sleep well, Sam, and know that I love you completely."
"Good night, Cassie," he whispered in response. "Look for me in your dreams."
"I'll be waiting for you," she whispered. "Don't be too long."
Then one of them ended the call and Sam simply stood there, breathing softly in the silence of their bedroom, and missing his wife so much it hurt. Then, suddenly, he felt a tender brush of something across his lips and smiled when he realized that she had found a way to kiss him goodnight.
"Sweet dreams, Cassie," he murmured before heading to the shower.
When he finally tumbled into sleep, it was with the feel of her in his arms.
And they slept safely under the enchantment of that old Merriwick magic.
fin