Untamed
Cassie Nightingale found herself in an unusual situation.
No, actually, she found herself in two unusual situations.
To begin with, she was not only feeling nervous anticipation (or possibly the other way around; these feelings were still very new to her) at the thought of things to come, she was also failing to reach her usual 'calm, Zen self' (to quote Martha) in order to deal with said coming things from the comfort of her typical unflappable demeanor.
In fact, as Sam had once rather charmingly (and accurately) put it, she was feeling a little flapped.
Which led to the second thing: Cassie was positively aching for her husband's touch and yet had no clue how to go about inciting him to — well, to fulfill that wicked, passionate promise he'd made to her two nights ago, after they'd so thoroughly ravished each other that the memory was enough to make her want a glass of ice water (emphasis on the 'ice').
At the moment, they were cuddling as best they could (which wasn't very) on two stools at the small kitchen island, sharing tender kisses and loving banter . . . and Cassie was about to scream in sheer frustration. She could feel Sam's desire for her, especially when she touched his bare skin, but he was holding himself under such tight control, she was starting to worry that he wouldn't touch her tonight, not even in their normal gentle lovemaking. He hadn't even kissed her enthusiastically when she'd first come home (although, now that she thought about it, that was a good thing; she'd somehow forgotten that Grace and Abigail had been there as well). And now, with him actively projecting and maintaining the mien of calm, cool, collected Sam, she felt like he was willing himself to become a marble statue.
Oh.
Oh!
Despite the passionate phone sex they'd shared (and she was unable to prevent a flush of embarrassment, mixed though it was with strong arousal; it had been an amazing experience, but she was so unused to these types of feelings that she wasn't able to face them with poise yet), it was obvious that he was still wary of unleashing the full scope of his passion on her. Sam knew her so well that he had never even questioned her sexual experiences or preferences, and she cherished that. He was a generous, gentle, tender lover, and she had always thought, something that was exemplified by her life with Jake, that was she wanted in a romantic partner.
Until Friday night.
She understood enough to realize that the only reason he'd been so open and unrestrained was because they weren't able to physically touch each other; it had freed him from his fear of overwhelming her, or pushing her to do something she didn't want or like.
And she loved him for that.
But now that Sam opened her eyes and heart (and her body, oh yes) to just how joyful and loving such wild desire could be, never mind how good it could feel, she wanted another taste of it. And what he had promised to do to 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.") had the new and delightful (distracting, but delightful) effect of making both her body and her emotions simmer with an ever-building hunger for him. She'd been able to put it on the backburner while they were at Wellingsley, at least during the day, but Saturday night . . . well. She had relived each and every second of their encounter. Several times. And each remembrance had only made her want to do it again. So, naturally, when she had FINALLY worked up enough courage to call Sam, had been halfway through dialing his number, Abigail had decided she wanted a girls' night. Thus, Cassie had been thwarted, frustrated, and worked up for the better part of a day now, and each successive mile that brought her closer to home (to Sam) had only served to exponentially increase the heat, the want, that he'd awakened.
And now the dratted man was taking a page out of her playbook and embodying the literal definitions of calm, collected, and unflustered! While she, Cassie Nightingale, The Acknowledged Calm Center of Middleton (also a quote from Martha . . . one that she had gifted to Cassie in the form of a plaque that was currently hiding under a giant stuffed panda bear that had been a Valentine's present from Grace), was jittery, edgy, and so irritated by his oblivious indifference to her desire for his touch that she was actually contemplating smacking him with a frying pan.
Unaware of the tenor of her thoughts, Sam tenderly nuzzled her neck before pulling away and beginning his final nightly checks: doors locked, windows closed, lights off, yadda yadda yadda.
Good grief.
Had she, Cassie Nightingale, really just thought 'yadda yadda yadda'?
Oh, this was bad. She was so distracted from wanting him that she couldn't even think coherent thoughts.
And what was her handsome, sexy husband doing about it? He was gently taking her hand and silently leading her to the stairs, with no hint of ravishment in sight, that's what!
Aggravated at his restraint and her nerves, Cassie stroked her thumb across the back of his hand harder than she'd intended . . . and his breath hitched. Intrigued, she did it again and her eyes widened when he nearly missed the next stair while his hunger washed over her once more. But he instantly clamped it down, visibly fighting back a moan, and she suddenly understood.
Well.
That was interesting. Also, it explained a lot. Sam was waiting for some indication from her to let him know his . . . well, his lust would be welcomed.
But what?
Something told her that simply telling him 'it's okay, Sam, take me' wouldn't do it (the thought caused her to silently snort in amusement, though she made a mental note to try it once they were both comfortable with this aspect of their relationship, if for no other reason than to see the look on his face).
Frowning a little, Cassie worried the problem around as they silently made their way up the stairs and down the hall, frustrated that she wasn't yet sure enough of herself to start things and unable to think of anything that would truly reassure him that it was okay, she definitely — and desperately — wanted him to release his iron control and just take her.
Claim her.
Then their bedroom door came into view and she remembered again what he'd said — "I plan to take you hard and fast against our bedroom door — or wall, whichever works better for you" — and had An Idea that pulled a feral smile to her lips as her body flushed with heated desire.
"Sam?" she breathed, sounding positively sultry even to her own ears, as she tangled the fingers of their joined hands before reaching up to place her other hand over his pounding heart.
"Yeah?" he responded, looking at her inquisitively and with so much love shining in his gaze that she felt moisture gather in her eyes.
The smoldering passion behind that love sent moisture gathering somewhere a good deal lower. He wanted her badly.
God knew, she wanted him.
And she was going to have him.
She finally allowed her own emotions some much-needed freedom and couldn't stop the slightly-smug smile when he swallowed hard at what he saw on her face. His lust flooded her system yet again, causing hers to rise even higher, and she felt her eyes go hot with passion.
She was so far gone now with her need for him that embarrassment had no chance and she'd left shy back in the kitchen. So Cassie Radford Nightingale drew in a deep breath, mentally put herself back in the place she'd been on Friday after Sam had come so spectacularly for her, that self-assurance of knowing just how much he wanted her, and plunged headfirst into a raging firestorm.
"I think the bedroom wall will work very well for me," she informed him, watching in heated fascination at the change that came over her husband when he understood.
That vivid, brilliant blue gaze seared her from the inside out as he went completely, totally still. He even stopped breathing.
And then he growled, yanked her into his arms, and took her mouth so ardently with his that she actually forgot her own name. Her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his neck and she held on for dear life, tangling her tongue with his, while he lifted her off her feet and carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door closed and taking a hand off her just long enough to lock it. Then he put her down and promptly stole every last gasp of air from her lungs by pushing her firmly against the wall, settling his right thigh between hers, and kissing her ravenously as he encouraged her to rock against his leg.
His desperation fed hers and she clawed frantically at his shirts, needing to feel his hot skin under her hands and cursing his penchant for layers. With a harsh groan, he pulled back enough to help her, both of them scrabbling to bare his upper body. The second the fabric cleared his shoulders, Cassie rubbed her palms across his delectable chest, relishing the heartfelt sound of enjoyment he gave her as he shuddered at her touch and those strong, gorgeous arms flexed as he threw his clothes behind him and sealed his mouth to hers again. She smiled against his lips when she scraped a nail over his nipple and he gasped, his tongue twining with hers while he pressed her harder against the wall, tearing a moan from her when she felt the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach, erotic beyond belief even through the double layer of fabric.
That sensation, coupled with the ever-increasing intensity of his feelings, ignited a rampant inferno in her and she yanked her mouth free to pant desperately for air for a minute before putting both palms to his chest and firmly pushing him away. Startled, he staggered back a step, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing with passion even as confusion rose on his face. When she tugged at his belt, frantic to get it unbuckled so she could get him naked, he growled again and lunged forward, bracing his hands on the wall at either side of her head while trailing moist, fiery kisses down her throat and then sucking firmly at that little hollow where her neck met her shoulder, his breath hot as he nudged her shirt collar aside with his nose and eagerly but carefully bit the skin before soothing the sting with the soft slide of his tongue.
She finally got his jeans open and was trying to shove them down when he suddenly caught her hand in a firm grip, lifted it to his chest, and eased himself away from her, his other hand clenching into a tight fist from the force of holding back his desire and his pupils completely blown with arousal, leaving only a thin rim of blue that was actually glowing. Surprised and stimulated by the depth of his longing, she watched as he sucked in several harsh breaths while he closed his eyes, obviously fighting for control. Once it seemed that he'd regained a modicum of calm, he looked at her and she caught her breath. Flames were dancing in that intense blue gaze and fine tremors racked his lean frame.
Cassie had never seen 'his control was hanging by a thread' in real life before . . . and it made her want to take him so badly, she involuntarily took a step forward. He gave a single harsh shake of his head and then took another deep breath before swallowing.
"Cassie . . ." he rasped, his voice so dark and full of rough desire that she actually shuddered from the feeling, her nipples pebbling at the reminder of what he'd done to her two nights ago. He noticed her reaction and his nostrils flared in response, the fire in his eyes blazing even hotter.
"Cassie — I want you so badly that I can't see straight," he told her, each word nearly dragged from him as he fought to tame his passion. "And in a minute, I don't think I'll be able to stop. So—"
The fact that he was willing to stop himself if this wasn't what she wanted, despite his rapidly disintegrating control, made Cassie's heart nearly burst from the sheer amount of love she had for this man.
It also snapped the last of her restraint and she boldly interrupted him, needing his touch more than she needed to breathe.
"I don't want you to stop," she said huskily, freeing her hand from his suddenly slack hold and raising it to cradle his cheek. He immediately pressed a gentle kiss to her palm and she smiled. Her husband was amazing. Who else could be so tender while fighting through a now-constant flood of passion? "So take me, because I am yours, heart, body, and sou—"
His mouth stopped her words as he kissed her so roughly and passionately that she went boneless and simply gave herself completely over to him. When he finally pulled away, she was utterly breathless and could do nothing but watch appreciatively as he frantically stripped, somehow looking sexy beyond belief even while fighting his way free of his shoes and socks. When he'd finally divested himself of his clothes, he slowly turned to face her and at the sight of him, so hard and ready for her, she whimpered, licking her lips, and stretched her hand out, desperate to touch, feel, take, but even as her fingers wrapped around that hot, silky length, he moaned low in his throat and pushed her hand away.
"I can't!" he gasped. "Just — just let me, Cassie, I need you — want you, I, I want —"
Seeing him so out of control with wanting her sent Cassie's lust skyrocketing and she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers to claim him with a ravenous kiss. His moan vibrated all the way to her toes and the feel of his naked, aroused body pressing against hers made her crave him even more. He murmured something incoherent when she rocked against the thigh he'd slipped back between her legs before tugging and yanking at her sweatshirt, hissing in irritation when he was unable to remove it because he refused to stop kissing her long enough to get the thing over her head. Cassie finally took pity on him and laughed softly against his lips, ducking down so he could successfully pull it free and throw it aside, and found herself distantly impressed when he was able to get her bra open and off in one try. Then his mouth settled over a nipple and she was lost in the glorious sensation of Sam Radford loving her.
He stayed at her breasts for only a moment, just long enough to spike her yearning for him into the stratosphere, before dropping to his knees and working her jeans open and down, pressing a soft kiss to the arch of each foot as he eased both the denim and her underwear off and tossed them over his shoulder. Then he sat back on his heels and looked at her, his gaze stroking across her skin and branding every inch of her as his. When their eyes met, his full of love and asking the question, she smiled and offered him her hand, biting her lip when he groaned again, took it in a tender grip, and surged to his feet. His beautiful, elegant surgeon's fingers skimmed across all the skin he could reach as he fed voraciously at her mouth, leaving trails of fire in their wake and scorching her blood with sheer, wanton hunger. Then his hand slipped between her thighs and the feel of her, wet and hot for him, finally obliterated what was left of his formidable self-control.
With a gasp that he buried on her tongue, his hands clamped onto her hips and he bit her lower lip before turning her so that her back was pressed against his chest and walking them to the wall until she had to brace her hands against it. Instinctively, she pushed her lower body back a little and he moaned her name, pulling her hips back even further and using a knee to spread her open before rubbing his cock against her inner thigh and making her cry out at how good he felt.
"My God, you are so fucking gorgeous," he choked out, the profanity sending a shockwave of pure hunger through her. There could never be anything in the world as magnificent as the reality of Sam Radford out of his mind with wanting her. "And I cannot believe that you are mine."
"Yes!" she gasped, circling her hips in a frantic attempt to get him inside her, where he belonged, and glorying in the sense of complete and total belonging that only Sam had ever invoked in her. But then he found control from somewhere and went still against her back, breathing hard into her neck and curling his hands over her shoulders.
"Mine," he whispered again, the word hot and possessive against her ear, making her shiver from the force of her own desire. And in that perfect moment of stillness, she finally shed the last remnant of fear and embarrassment, giving herself wholly over to loving him, and licked her lips before turning her head to capture his beautiful, loving, passionate gaze.
"Yours," she agreed firmly, curving her right arm behind his neck as she straightened away from the wall, letting herself rest against him with complete faith that he would support her, and twining her fingers through his damp hair so she could pull his mouth so close to hers that they were sharing the same breath.
"And you, Sam Radford — You. Are. Mine."
He stopped breathing, joy literally radiating from him, and then he groaned and sealed his mouth to hers, kissing her so deeply that her knees turned to sand while the sheer intensity of his emotions shook her to the depths of her soul.
When he finally pulled away from her lips, he moved only enough to rest his forehead against her temple, breathing heavily.
"Completely, Cassie. Everything I am belongs to you," he rasped, his hand sliding down her shoulder and settling over her heart. "Forever."
She whimpered in response to his vow, her body going up in flames at the promise in those heated words.
"Then take me, Sam," she whispered in the breath between their mouths. "And I'll take you."
Ever eager to make her wishes come true, he did.
Sam Radford had said it before and he'll say it again: his wife was going to kill him.
And it was going to be the most incredible experience he'd ever have.
Quite possibly literally.
He. Couldn't. Wait.
For two days, he'd veered wildly between stunned happiness at the new level of intimacy he and Cassie had reached (though he really could have done without getting hard every time he thought about it; with her gone, the constant arousal hadn't been tortured anticipation. It had just been torture.) and increasing nervousness about further exploring it. On top of that, he had gotten virtually no rest for the entire flipping weekend, Friday night aside (ah, Friday; it was now his second favorite day EVER); not only had he missed Cassie with every fiber of his being, he had also been subjected to a moody teenage violinist who defied all known laws of physics regarding teenagers and instead actually preferred early mornings.
And, you know, Sam could have handled 'early'; he was a trauma surgeon, after all, and had also once run one of the busiest ERs in the country. However, Jack apparently had a yen for 'pre-early' (like, 'thirty minutes before the butt-crack of dawn' early) and, as an added bonus, also seemed to lack a working knowledge of volume control. Thus, Sam had been missing Cassie like a desert misses rain (oh, great; now he was spouting clichés off to himself) AND found himself (and Nick, because Sam was a believer in equal-opportunity suffering sharing) being forcefully serenaded by sonatas that managed to be both romantic and mournful, which was a direct reflection of his predominant mood.
So it went without saying that Sam had hated the world at large for nearly two days, especially given that he hadn't heard from Cassie at all on Saturday (had he known why, he would likely have hauled a firmly-gagged Abigail directly to a convent on the other side of the country and handed the nuns both an envelope of cash and a keyless padlock) and had only gotten a single text message when they'd started back to Grey House. All of that being said, he had rather enjoyed helping Jack and his father come to a better understanding of each other — and not just because the kid finally stopped playing that damn violin.
Still, between his wife and his houseguests, he was a jittery mass of annoyed and frustrated nerves. And then, since God does have a sense of humor, he couldn't even kiss her the way he was so desperate to when she'd finally gotten home, because Abigail and Grace were standing there.
(He wasn't remotely concerned about Abigail's presence. Or her opinion. She might (might? This was Abigail.). She would say something sarcastic and/or inappropriately suggestive, but he'd survived both marriage to and divorce from Linda; after that, Abigail didn't even register on his 'annoyance' scale. He did, however, refuse to put Grace through that. Or himself and Cassie, for that matter. He adored Grace, but she was a teenager — and a highly intelligent one at that. And no one needed the drama that any teenager, even theirs, would drown the world in at the incontrovertible proof that their parents do, in fact, have a sex life.)
Thus, having been thwarted of his initial plans to kiss his wife into insensibility before carrying her upstairs and — well, taking her against the door, the way he'd promised (and wanted so badly he could no longer allow himself to think about it, because it rendered him unable to think. The irony of this did not escape him.), Sam found himself trapped into the banality of pretending that he was calm, cool, collected, and not thinking At All about The Event that had happened Friday night. Partly because of his own lingering fear of pushing his wife too far and too fast, no matter how enthusiastic she had been over the phone, for he understood that virtual (so to speak) was a whole different animal from live, and partly (well, mostly) because, while she was definitely glad to see him, Sam did not remotely get the impression that she wanted to be . . . well, ravished.
And so he made her favorite tea and firmly reined himself in, because hell would freeze over with the accompanying flying pigs before he hurt or scared her, and took solace in the tender familiarity of her touch and taste. But his control was shaky at best and his mental acuity was right there with it, so he rather stupidly found himself challenging her to prove that she had, in fact, missed him, only to have his ego decimated by her dry observation of his failure to move that damned TV back to Nick's room.
"Did I say how much I missed you?" he parroted back to her in an admittedly pathetic attempt to keep things light and gentle. And deflect from his current . . . situation.
Only for Cassie to throw oil on a gigantic stack of dry wood and then toss a lit firecracker on top of it.
"Prove it."
It took every ounce of self-discipline Sam possessed not to take her right there and then on that tiny (yet sturdy) island, but it was blatantly obvious she had no idea what she had just done to him, so he accepted her soft kiss while he summoned the following week's willpower and locked himself down so tightly that Fort Knox took a few notes. When she pulled back and smiled, he gave her what was undoubtedly a dopey grin in response and dipped his head to nuzzle at her neck, needing to hide his face for a minute.
Well, and also force his raging hard-on back down to something less — raging.
Once he was fairly sure he could walk without too much obvious difficulty, he stood up and left her to do his final security check of the house. The mundane task helped cool his ardor a little more and by the time he returned to her side, he had nearly convinced himself that soft and slow was what he wanted. So he took her hand and silently headed for the stairs, refusing to think about doors, walls, and the things that could be done against them.
And then Cassie, who had been lightly caressing his hand with her thumb, decided that 'light' was boring and pressed down hard, hitting a spot that he hadn't known was an erogenous zone for him until that exact second. He noticeably caught his breath at the sensation so she promptly did it again, because 'curiosity' was her middle name. Pleasure zinged through him and he nearly tripped over the next stair, trying to gather the fraying strands of his tenuous restraint, then swallowed hard, eternally grateful that she couldn't see his face while he beat back his arousal and forced himself to keep heading up the last few stairs.
He could make it to their bedroom.
He could.
Please, God, let him make it to their bedroom.
Then he would hide in the bathroom until he got his damned libido under control and could love her the way she wanted.
Why weren't they there yet?! Had the room decided to join the torture and move itself to the other side of the house?
His panicked thoughts had him seriously concerned for his sanity (and more than half-convinced he was right, the house was in on it), when he saw their door and was almost overwhelmed with utter relief.
"Sam?"
Her voice was so unexpected (and . . . sultry?) that he nearly tripped over thin air and he twisted to look back at her, his eyes wide with curiosity and the love that swelled up every time he saw her.
"Yeah?" he said hesitantly.
(He wouldn't know until some days later that his attempt to hide his feelings had failed spectacularly and that the soul-deep need for her that he was unable to suppress had been what had allowed Cassie to take her final step of trust and make the first move to claim what they both wanted so badly.)
Her expression . . . shifted . . . to something he didn't dare let himself hope for and he swallowed. Hard.
"I think the bedroom wall will work very well for me."
It took several heartbeats for him to really register that and then he just . . . stopped.
"I think the bedroom wall will work very well for me."
She — she wanted him.
She wanted him to take her.
Claim her.
All the feelings, emotions, hidden desires, and needs — everything that he'd been suppressing for the last two days and three-plus years — broke free, flooding his body with such virulent hunger that he had to kiss her, devour her, or die from the lack of her.
She responded so ardently that his mind just went white and the next thing he knew, he was pinning her to their bedroom wall with his body and doing his damnedest to climb inside her through her mouth.
The feel of her trying to take off his shirts severed another thread of his restraint but he somehow managed to step back enough to help her, only to nearly lose his mind at the feel of her greedy, hot hands sliding possessively across his chest and scratching over his nipples. That bite of pain-tinged pleasure felt so incredibly good that he was unable to hold back an inarticulate moan of approval before kissing her again, loving the taste of her passion on his tongue.
Then she pushed him away and he staggered back, his desire-fogged mind not understanding why, but her fingers frantically tugging at his belt promptly swept his confusion away under a wave of raw lust, especially when she actually whined softly in frustration at her failure to get it unbuckled. He was too far gone to help her, was only able to growl his approval while he shoved her back into the wall and made his way down the tempting line of her throat, layering hot kisses on her gorgeous skin until he got to that little space on her shoulder that fit his chin perfectly, biting down just hard enough that she would feel it and soothing any sting with a tender stroke of his tongue.
He abruptly registered that she was tugging at his now-open jeans, trying to get him undressed, and that somehow managed to give him enough clarity to realize that he needed to warn her about what was about to happen and give her the chance to stop him, before he was simply unable to let her go. He was clinging to sanity by sheer willpower and was dangerously close to falling into the abyss of his untamed desire to claim her, all of her, and give himself completely to her in return.
So he caught her hand and pulled it to his chest, taking a few deep, cleansing breaths and closing his eyes against the sight of her: passionate, aroused, and wanting him.
"Cassie . . ." he finally rasped, unable to articulate any further . . . until he watched her eyes go smoky with lust, chased by hunger as she gave him a scorching once-over that stressed the limited control he was grasping so desperately to the breaking point. And then she took a step forward, her free hand reaching for him.
Good God, no. If she touched him right now . . . the very idea made him shake his head with frantic denial even as it sent a shudder of want rippling through his entire body and his control weakened still more.
But it also miraculously gave him enough strength to give her the choice.
Before he lost himself to the inferno that was his passionate, soul-deep need for her and everything she made possible for him.
"Cassie — I want you so badly that I can't see straight," he ground out, his body literally shaking from the force of his desire. "And in a minute, I don't think I'll be able to stop. So—"
"I don't want you to stop," she interrupted, her voice tender, loving, and yet full of want. She tugged her hand free from his now-loose grip and lifted it to curve her fingers around his jaw, smiling when he was unable to stop himself from nuzzling into her touch and pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "So take me, because I am yours, heart, body, and sou—"
His mind refused to process what she was telling him, because he simply could not believe that his dreams would come so spectacularly true. Not again. But Cassie didn't lie, and she never said anything she didn't mean.
She wanted this.
Him.
He yanked her to him and kissed her so fiercely and ravenously that his brain just short-circuited, especially when she whimpered into his mouth and collapsed against him, utterly confident that he would support her and making him groan at the display of such absolute and complete trust.
Naked.
He needed to be naked, and so did she. Right now.
Breaking the kiss was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but Sam managed, stripping out of the rest of his clothes with ridiculous haste and actually turning in a circle while he fought with his footwear. But once he was free from his denim prison, he took a second to just breathe and summon enough discipline to properly undress her first, because he might be going out of his mind with lust but he wasn't a damned caveman.
And then he slowly pivoted to face her and she actually licked her lips at the sight of him, hard and aching for her, even as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Oh.
Dear.
God.
The only thing that stopped him from just yanking her jeans down and fucking her into oblivion was the innocence he saw behind the passion, so he pushed her hand back as gently as he could and moaned when her fingers tightened before reluctantly sliding away from him.
There was no way this was going to be coherent, but he had to try, had to let her know just what she did to him, how deep his passion for her ran.
"I can't!" he gasped out, desperate to make her understand that he was no longer 'on edge': she had tumbled him headfirst off the cliff and he was now in freefall. "Just — just let me, Cassie, I need you — you, I, I want —"
She stopped him with a kiss so greedily demanding that he couldn't do anything but moan in helpless surrender and start tearing at her clothes, needing her bare skin under his hands and no longer able to be gentle. His frustration at his failure to get her shirt off because he refused to pull his mouth away from hers manifested itself in a particularly hard tug, only to be eclipsed by sheer surprise when she laughed and ducked down, separating their lips but allowing him to finally pull the damn shirt over her head and give him unfettered access to her chest.
Nearly unfettered.
He made a supreme effort at focusing and was somehow able to get her bra unclasped on his first try, tugging it free and flinging it to the side before palming her breasts with fingers clumsy with want and then sucking a nipple into his hungry mouth. She tasted so, so good, but he simply did not have it in him for any kind of foreplay, so he gave her other nipple a farewell lick and sank to his knees, fighting with her jeans button for a minute before managing to work them and a truly gorgeous pair of dark purple panties down her ridiculously long legs. He was unable to keep his mouth to himself, though, and pressed a kiss to each foot as he tugged them free of the denim.
Once she was finally, gloriously naked, he found another tiny reservoir of control and seized it desperately, sitting back on his heels so he could just look at her and unable to believe that she had chosen him. Love eclipsed his passion as he met her eyes, silently asking if she was sure. He had the ability, right now, to stop if she didn't want this. When she gave him an equally loving but hungry smile and offered her hand, fingers splayed in blatant invitation, he moaned and caught it carefully in his as he came to his feet in one lithe move.
His hands roamed eagerly across her body, finally bared and hot beneath his fingers, and he growled low in his throat at the sublime feel of her before taking her mouth and pouring everything he felt for his amazing, incredible wife into his ravenous kiss. He sought out every inch of damp skin he could reach, and with each moan and gasp she gave him in return, every time she chased after his touch, his arousal spiked higher and hotter while his ability to hold himself in check splintered a little further.
Then his fingers slid between her thighs and the sultry, hot riches he found waiting for him shattered him.
He gasped his love and want into her mouth, unable to bear the thought of separating from her even enough to talk, and her answering moan made him bite her lower lip before grabbing her hips and spinning her in his arms so he could hold her from behind. He couldn't kiss her like this but he needed to be inside her.
Now.
He walked them the few steps to the wall, feeling more than a little predatory as he watched her thrust her hands out so she could brace herself, then bending over a bit and giving him complete access to her body.
"Cassie," he moaned, his hands tightening as he pushed his knee between her thighs to open her up for him. Even from here, he could see that she was glistening wet and he couldn't have stopped himself from rubbing against her for anything on earth. The soft, choked cry she gave him in return shoved him off the edge he'd been clinging to for so long and he was lost to the abyss that was his all-consuming love for her.
"My God," he breathed at the sight of her, open and wanting him, and rendering him unable to stop telling her just how badly he wanted her, craved her, needed her. "You are so fucking gorgeous. And I cannot believe that you are mine."
"Yes!" she cried, eagerly accepting his possession and pushing her body against his, trying to get him to come inside her. The only thing that stopped him was the overpowering need he had to satisfy her first and he forced himself to go still, his body resting intimately against hers, and staked his claim, finally letting himself accept that she wanted it and him just as much as he did.
"Mine," he repeated roughly, thrilling in the rightness of knowing just how true it was.
And when Cassie turned her head to capture his gaze, hers just as hot and possessive as his, he felt calm satisfaction settle over him.
"Yours," she told him, her eyes glittering with passionate resolve as she straightened away from the wall, only to immediately mold her body to his and slowly curve her arm up and around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him so close to her that he could taste every breath she gave him.
"And you, Sam Radford," she breathed, her eyes boring into his. "You. Are. Mine."
The certainty of her staking her claim on him sent Sam to the moon with pure, unadulterated joy, and he found himself unable to breathe from the sheer intensity of his happiness. Then she blinked, relinquishing his eyes, and he was able to think again, his mind clamoring with the need to taste her, to pull her inside him and never let her go. So he kissed her avidly, desperate for her to know just how much and how deeply he felt for her.
Desperate for her to know just how completely he belonged to her.
And that was something she deserved to hear.
So he reluctantly broke their kiss and nuzzled his forehead against her temple, taking a beat to just breathe her in.
"Completely, Cassie. Everything I am belongs to you," he vowed, sliding his hand down shoulder so he could rest it on her heart. "Forever."
Her soft whimper hit him like a lightning bolt and he bit down a groan, pressing his forehead harder against her.
"Then take me, Sam," she breathed against his mouth, making him shudder with the force of his desire. "And I'll take you."
Sam Radford lost his mind.
His body awakened with a vengeance, his blood igniting with his need to touch her.
Take her.
So he did.
Finally free of all restraint, all control, all hesitation, Sam pushed her forward again, twining the fingers of his left hand through hers against the wall next to her head as she spread her thighs for him and gasped, "Now, Sam!"
He turned her head with his right hand and plundered her mouth as he sank into her in one firm push, glorying in the feel of her, so hot and wet and tight around him, and gloating at the cry of 'yes!' that she buried on his tongue. Needing to see her, and wanting her to feel him and know just how good this was going to be, he broke away from her lips and rested his forehead against the back of her neck, eyes fixed on where his cock was buried inside her sweet body while his hand fell to possessively cup her breast. At his continued stillness, Cassie moaned wantonly and squirmed, silently begging him to move; he couldn't stop a smug smile at that mute plea and gave her what she wanted, taking her as deeply as he could and losing himself in the blinding pleasure of her body and how unbelievably incredible she felt. She moved with him effortlessly, willingly, her right hand clawing at his thigh and hip as she brokenly urged him, "Harder, please — faster, more, ye—Sam, I need more!"
There was no finesse, no gentleness, in this claiming, and her eager cries of encouragement only made him take her harder, rougher, and more passionately. Her uninhibited enjoyment and acceptance of his unrestrained desires was nearly his undoing and he welcomed it with open arms, loving that she was just as greedy for his body as he was for hers and reveling in their mingled cries of pleasure as they gave themselves fully to each other.
He was already teetering on the brink and there was no way he would last, not as amazing as she felt, so when she unexpectedly pressed herself down just as he gave her a particularly intense thrust and then squeezed around him, it catapulted him over the edge. He was only just barely able to bury his cry against her shoulder while he came so hard he actually saw stars and his body sang from the sheer ecstasy of his release, leaving him drifting on a sea of dazed happiness as his strokes slowed. The unexpected feel of her fingers rubbing frantically at her clit and bumping against his sensitive cock brought him sharply back to Earth and his chest heaved against her back as he fought for breath and control, draping his chin over her shoulder and watching avidly as she touched herself, thinking that it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. But he had a soul-deep need to satisfy her, so he trailed his fingers down her body and let them join hers, both of them seeking her pleasure and moaning in unison at how amazing it was.
Then Cassie sucked in a sharp breath and turned her head, catching his mouth on a scream as she shattered beneath their combined touch, her body spasming against his as her orgasm took her to the stars.
He had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.
"You are mine," he whispered in her ear as he tenderly ran his hands over her, seeking now to calm instead of arouse, and unable to hold back a surge of satisfaction when she purred at his touch. When she finally came all the way down, he carefully eased himself free of her body and fought back his sense of loss, echoed in her soft sigh, as he helped her straighten up and then wrapped himself around her from behind, languidly caressing her and just loving the feel of her, pliant and sated, under his hands. "And I am yours," he finished, his heated breath making her shiver even as she moaned her agreement and let herself collapse against his body, completely boneless and utterly trusting.
God, he loved her.
It took them both a while to recover from the blinding pleasure of their joining, but Sam finally stepped back with another soft sigh. Cassie immediately turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him so deeply that he forgot his name and could do nothing but hold on for dear life as he returned her kiss, letting it say all the things they couldn't just yet.
"I love you," she whispered when she finally pulled away, giving him a knowing look that heated his blood yet again. "And that, Sam Radford, was incredible," she purred, nipping at his lower lip with a grin when he gaped at her unexpected boldness. "When can we do it again?"
That not-at-all innocent question brought his body back to life and he went hard so quickly, he actually felt dizzy (and that was something that hadn't happened since his 20s. God, what his woman did to him!). And oh, how he wanted to take her like that again.
And he would.
Multiple times.
In multiple places. They both had cars. And a lake house. He had an office. She had a storeroom.
And with their combined imaginations, well . . .
Oh, yes. This was definitely going to be a recurring favorite of theirs.
But he had made her another promise and now that the overpowering lust he'd been drowning in had been somewhat sated, it was an experience he was very eager to share with her.
So he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her fingers before giving her a gentle, loving smile . . . albeit one that was tinged with more than a little smug satisfaction.
Which he felt was well-earned and so it was something he was going to enjoy, at least for a minute.
"Soon," he promised, watching in awed fascination as her eyes darkened with renewed passion and she started breathing faster.
She was going to kill him.
And he didn't want to wait another second.
"But I promised you something else," he murmured huskily, kicking a shoe out of the way as he led her to their bed. She tugged him back to her when he stopped next to the footboard and pulled him into a sweet, spicy kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth so it could play with his and pressing her hot, damp body against his now-rampant arousal, making a noise of surprised approval in her throat as he rubbed himself against her stomach in response to her wanton invitation.
When he finally pulled back, her eyes were glazed with desire and so were his, and he grinned, pressing one more quick kiss to her lips before he moved to the side of the bed and let himself fall flat on his back. After taking a few seconds to enjoy the cool, soft sheets beneath him, he shifted until he was lying completely on the mattress, legs slightly spread and arms resting at his sides, and his cock hard and eager for her. He met her curious eyes, smiling at the anticipation and interest he saw on her face, and held out a hand, biting his lip when she licked hers and accepted it, letting him pull her on top of him.
A surprised laugh burst from her as he gently manhandled her until she was straddling him, her center resting just in front of his throbbing cock, and he smiled again when he bent both knees so his feet were flat against the mattress and she immediately leaned back against them, those gorgeous breasts gently bouncing from the force of her movements and her eyes never leaving his.
"Do you remember when we went horseback riding, sweetheart?" he asked, squeezing her fingers and feeling his smile curve up to a grin when her eyes narrowed in thought before going wide with sudden comprehension.
Then she licked her lips again and gave him a slow, predatory once-over that made him swallow even as his blood heated still more in fevered anticipation.
"I do," she crooned, stroking her hands across his chest and smirking when he was unable to suppress a shudder as her nails scraped over his tender, sensitive nipples.
"Well, then," he riposted, taking his cock in one hand and using the other to guide her hips until they were both in position. "Let's see how well you remember your lessons."
She arched an eyebrow and slowly sank down on him, both of them groaning at the glorious sensation of him sliding into her. He focused on keeping himself perfectly still until she had taken every last inch and was resting snugly against his hips, her eyes wide at the new sensation of him taking her this way. Her knees were on either side of his waist and her hands were braced on his chest, and she was quick to take full advantage of her position by leaning down to torment him by refusing to actually kiss him, instead just breathing softly across his lips and denying him the leverage he needed to stretch up and close the distance himself.
He finally couldn't take it anymore and broke, begging for her mouth and unable to hide his smile when her kiss revealed the same desperation he felt. God, he loved her.
When she pulled away and sat up, the predatory look was back and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back and baring his throat in utter submission, knowing that he was about to be taken for the wildest ride of his life.
He whimpered in tortured pleasure when she slowly, carefully, began to rock back and forth, getting a feel for what she liked and taking what he knew was an unrepentantly wicked glee in making any and all intelligent thought he still possessed disintegrate into 'guh'.
"Giddy-up, Sam Radford," she purred, squeezing around him and making his eyes cross at how amazing she felt while a wordless plea clawed its way free of his tight throat.
Had he mentioned that she was going to kill him?
And then she leaned over, put her mouth directly to his ear, and did.
"You sexy beast."
~~~
fin