Heart Signs

by Cari Quinn

  “Sam, I—”

  He picked her up so fast that her head snapped back over his arm like a broken doll’s. She clamped an arm around his thick neck and hung on while he toted her back down the hall as if she weighed nothing. Lighter than air. More see-through than the panties and bra set she’d picked out optimistically, just in case.

  When he laid her down on a blanket on the living room floor, she was sure he could see every nerve and synapse inside her, firing to life. She’d become transparent to him. And from the look on his tight, strained face, he wanted her that way.

  He knelt beside her and reached up to do undo the buttons on his shirt. She didn’t move, hardly even breathed, so afraid she’d do or say something that would make everything stop. Only her restless fingers sifted through the sand just beyond the edge of the blanket. Lots of sand, heaped all around her oasis of terrycloth in the center.

  Wait a second. She lifted her hand and scooped the white grains into her fist. “Sam? Where’d you get all this? How—”

  “You made me think of the beach the first time I saw you. I could see firelight in your eyes, could smell the toasted marshmallows and the smoke. You were summer and freedom and everything I hadn’t had in so long. Everything I hadn’t allowed myself. I’m going to allow myself tonight.” He tossed his shirt aside and she glimpsed his broad chest in the flickering light from the portable woodstove she’d noticed out of the corner of her eye. “You’re going to be my ocean and I’m going to drown myself in you.”

  She moistened her dry lips. He hadn’t answered her question but it didn’t matter. That had officially rendered her speechless.

  He reached out to close his big hand around hers, trapping the sand between their fingers while his gaze skipped across her face, his expression almost molten with lust. “I hope you’re ready.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m ready.” She slipped out of his grip, scattering sand as she grabbed his wrist and brought his hand between her legs. “And look at that, I even came prepared. One tidal wave, at your service.”

  Sam didn’t laugh, just held his fingers lightly against the heart of her while he fumbled open his jeans with his other hand. The jerk of his zipper lowering sounded thunderous over the cheerful music of Jimmy Buffett. Her heart was pounding so fast and loud she was surprised she could even hear it.

  He rose to shed his jeans and boxers, yanking them down and kicking them off his legs. Between the shadows created by the fire and the angle he looked positively massive. Especially the part of him that curved so far outward she could almost lean up and take him in her mouth without moving closer.

  She swallowed and tried to stop staring at his cock. This was an emotional moment. Surely being so caught up by such relatively trivial things as penis size wasn’t appropriate. But oh God, she couldn’t wait to be laid wide open by him. Because that’s what it would be. He might go slow—and hell, she hoped he did, she’d probably shatter otherwise—but there was no other way to describe what joining with him would be like.

  “Your turn,” he murmured.

  Her gaze remained glued to his huge, sexy body while she reached up to unbutton her coat. No wonder she was hot. She sat up and he helped draw it off her arms before setting it aside carefully on the arm of the couch. Her V-neck sweater came next, followed by the skirt she wiggled down her thighs and tossed into his waiting hands. When she wore only her lacy bra and panties and her calf boots, he motioned for her to stand.

  She shook her head. Her body was still a little too full for firelight. Especially right now, when she’d maxed out her capacity for vulnerability. “I’m good here, thanks.”

  “Up,” he instructed, his voice warm and insistent. “You’re on my beach,” he said when she dug her hands into the sand and held her ground.

  It made her laugh and also eased her anxiety. She clambered to her feet and stood like a shy virgin on the blanket, feeling oddly and painfully on display. As many of her body issues as she’d laid to rest over the years, some refused to disappear completely. And when a man like Sam was prowling in circles around her, examining every nook and cranny from all angles, they roared back to life.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful.” Even the words didn’t have anything on the provocative rasp of his voice. Or, she realized as he came to a stop in front of her, how much harder he’d become during his perusal. He nudged her bra straps down with his fingers and then reached behind her to flick open the clasp, leaving her clutching the cups to hold them up. “So curvy and luscious.”

  His eyes bored into hers, not asking, not demanding. Waiting for her to make the next move.

  Her throat closed as she spread her arms and let the bra fall on his feet. With his silent, steady approval pushing her on, she lowered her hands to the band of her panties. She tried to tug them down with a sexy flourish but she was shaking again and just getting them off over her boots was difficult enough.

  Throwing them to the side, she knelt and grasped the zipper of her boot. The day she’d managed to get boots this sexy and sleek over her gigundo calves had been the first time she’d really believed she’d actually progressed from chunky to well…less so. She wasn’t skinny. She’d never be that. But crouching in the buff staring up at Sam’s aroused features in the firelight, she felt like a goddamn vixen. “On or off?” she breathed.

  “Off.” He bent to run his finger over the polished leather and she shuddered with even the suggestion of feeling his bare skin on hers. “You’re gorgeous in them and you’re going to be wearing them when we fuck by the end of the night. But not when we’re making love.”

  If she hadn’t been soaked before, she was now. “There’s a difference?” She kept her attention squarely on what she was doing so he couldn’t see how flustered he’d made her. She knew she had more experience than him—at least with more partners if not more variety—but he’d just knocked her completely off stride.

  Hell, who was she kidding? She hadn’t had a stride since she’d met him.

  “You’ll see,” he said softly, waiting until she’d removed both boots to push her lightly back on the blanket. Her butt landed with a soft thud, just as her heart did when he motioned for her to lie back. “Arms over your head. Let me see every bit of what you’re giving to me.”

  Denials sprang to her lips. As much as she cared for him—way more than she’d ever bargained on—she wasn’t giving herself to anybody. Sexually was one thing. But this wasn’t about that. He was asking for possession, willingly granted.

  The music changed while she fought her impulses to make a run for it. She could still get the hell out of there. If she split before this went any further, he wouldn’t have this power over her anymore. She could snatch it back.

  And she’d become a coward again just when she’d finally admitted the truth.

  Rory drew in a deep, long breath and lifted her arms, stretching them out so that her breasts rose high. Muscles quaking, she spread her thighs, arching her toes toward the opposite corners of the blanket. Then she turned her hands back to back and twisted her fingers together, the perfect supplicant.

  Swallowing the jagged glass in her throat, she whispered, “Take.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rory,

  I used to think home was a place. Four walls with a door. Now I know it’s your voice. Your laughter. Waking to your smile against my throat and your breath fluttering over my pulse while I turn you over and bury myself inside you…that’s home. That’s life and I’ve never appreciated it more.

  ~ Sam

  Sam went down to his knees and closed his eyes, sending up a brief, fervent prayer. He was shaking so badly, his insides scraped raw with longing, and she was beyond lovely and perfect. Somehow they’d found each other in the most amazing, unbelievable circumstances and she was offering him not just her body but her love.

  He couldn’t screw things up.

  “Sam?”

  He looked at her and then down at the edges of the blanket he’d clutched in his fist
s. “It’s been a while and God, you’re so sexy I can’t even breathe.” His voice shook to match the rest of him. “If I fuck this up, I’ll get it right, Ror. I promise. Just bear with me, okay?”

  “You won’t fuck it up.” Her utter certainty in the face of his fear calmed his jangled nerves. “We’re going to make the most wonderful, incredible, sticky, dirty love that’s ever been made. Got that? Now get up here, Sam Miller, and prove me right.”

  He laughed and started to crawl up her body, her smile and her dewy eyes drawing him closer like a crooked finger. On his way, he stopped to kiss parts of her that particularly drew his attention. There were a lot of them so it took a while. Her delicate ankle bone, the curve of her calf leading to the intriguing hollow behind her knee. A nip there coaxed her legs farther apart. Her thighs were a wonder. Smooth and so warm, glowing golden in the dancing light. So wet when he urged them apart, opening her up so he could take in the glistening pink folds he’d imagined so many times.

  His reverent fingers skimmed up her pouty lips to her mound. She had a little tuft of dark silky curls, meant to tease. He teased her instead, sifting through them, tugging so that she writhed in anticipation of his touch. Her slick pussy gleamed in the firelight, her clit rounded and full when he spread her lips. He flicked his fingertip over her and she arched, a tortured sound escaping her throat. Again, harder.

  Another jolt went through her and she wriggled on the blanket, knocking over some of his strategically placed piles of sand. Some of it blew across her body, dotting her belly and clinging to her puckered nipples. He sucked in a breath and willed himself to hang on just a little longer.

  He rubbed his finger over her, spreading the wetness he couldn’t wait to taste. Not yet. If he went down on her now he’d come before he made it inside her body. A little lower and her slit sucked at his finger, beckoning him to explore. Tight and hot, she closed around him, ripples already moving through sensitive tissues. He didn’t thrust just watched her face change as she got used to having part of him inside her. Another finger joined the first and then they were moving with the undulations of her body, driving her higher and higher. Her breasts bounced, their tips taut and ripe in the shadowy light. He angled up to take a nipple between his teeth while he worked her into a frenzy with slow, patient strokes, biting down when his thumb coasted over her clit. She reared upward, a moan erupting from her as if she were stunned.

  He smiled, memorizing exactly how she looked on the verge of orgasm. Her lids heavy, her mouth swollen. He intended to see her like that over and over again before the night was through.

  And that would just be the beginning.

  He drove his fingers deeper, sliding them through her slippery wetness with ease. She clamped tighter and threw back her head, giving him yet another area to sample under her jaw as she bucked against his hand. The summery scent of burning wood layered over the intimate scent of her pleasure and he closed his eyes, so close to orgasm himself that his breaths came out in uneven pants.

  “Sam,” she gasped. “God, Sam.”

  Her inner walls squeezed around him and he reveled in the moans vibrating in her throat when he drew on the skin above her pulse. That steady beat matched the throb against his fingers as she came in a warm, wet gush.

  “Jesus.” He shifted his erection away from her heaving belly. Even that much of her velvety skin against him would make him lose it. “Not yet. Not yet,” he chanted under his breath, straining to finish what he started.

  Soon. He would have her soon. All he had to do was hang on, sweaty and gritty-eyed, a little longer.

  She whimpered when he rubbed her clit but he didn’t shy away, taking his time while he felt her gathering beneath him again. She’d need to be even wetter to take him and he was determined to get her there. He scissored his fingers in and out, his other hand coming up to cup her breast. A few sharp tugs on her nipple and she broke apart, twisting against him in a frenzy that only exacerbated the pressure in his cock.

  “Don’t make me beg for you,” she said, dragging his mouth to hers with a force that belied her size.

  He kept his fingers inside her. One wiggle and she was tensed and tight again, ready for more. “Thought you already did,” he said, razoring his teeth over her upper lip. “No? Third time’s a charm then.”

  She shook her head, her skin sheened with perspiration in the shimmering light. “Want you in me.”

  “I am in you.” Proving it, he flexed his hand and pressed down on her clit. He lowered his mouth to her nipple, licking her with the tip of his tongue while their gazes connected. Her pupils were at least twice their normal size and glazed with lust. “Tell you what. We’ll compromise.”

  “Nuh uh. No compromise. I…” She moaned when he jerked his fingers and rolled her head away. “I can’t come again.”

  “Wrong answer.” He leaned over her, the weight of his body driving his digits deeper. “I need you wet. It’s going to hurt otherwise and my finesse is, ah, somewhat lacking at the moment. So either you come again or it’s no-go.”

  “I am wet.”

  That she moaned the statement made him grin. “Yeah, you are. So what’s a little wetter? Come on, Ror.”

  She whimpered, shifting restlessly beneath him. “Lick my pussy. Please.”

  Now it was his turn to moan. How could four words send him so close to the edge? “I will, baby. Later. God, will I.” He pressed his face into her hair. “Have to wait.”

  “Then do it harder. Fuck me with your fingers.” Her breaths were choppy and she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist so that his aching cock settled on her lower belly. The scrape of her skin against his nearly drove him insane. “So hard I scream.”

  Though he thought he might scream first, he gave her what she asked for, sliding so far inside he worried he’d hurt her. She was so much smaller than he was. So delicate. But she gasped her enthusiasm, her hips flying up to meet his plunges. Her swollen pussy sucked at his flesh. Broken moans burst from her lips.

  Holy fuck, she liked it.

  He let go of his concern, spreading her open with first two, then three fingers. He used the knuckles of his other hand to ride her clit, closing his eyes to avoid seeing her in the throes of an orgasm yet again. Not that he wanted to miss it but he couldn’t watch. Not when his balls were about to explode. Feeling her grind against him was bad enough.

  “God, yes. Just like that. Please.” And then she gasped his name, extending it to about sixteen syllables while she quaked and drenched his palm.

  Rory fell back against the blanket, her legs slipping from his waist as if she’d lost all control. Normally he would’ve laughed. Now all he could think was that he’d get to have that sweet, snug pussy wrapped around him. Finally.

  He kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips in a slow, wet glide. She made a soft noise and kissed him back weakly. He’d worn her out and the main event hadn’t even begun. “Tired?” he murmured.

  “Yeah.” Her eyes flashed open and she reached down to grab his cock. With one slide of her hand over his torturously hard flesh, his whole body tightened. “Still want this. Now.”

  “Thank God. Let me just get—”

  “No.” She lifted a hand and laid it over his suddenly speeding heart. “We don’t need condoms, do we?”

  “I-I don’t know. Do we?”

  She giggled that Rory giggle he’d grown addicted to. “No. We don’t. I have an implant. And I’m clean. You are too, aren’t you?”

  “Squeaky.”

  She giggled again breathlessly. “Then just come inside me. It would be cruel to make you suit up after you’ve waited so long,” she added, pressing her other hand against his cheek.

  He met her eyes and stilled at the shifting inside his chest. “I’ve waited forever,” he agreed quietly, turning his mouth into her palm. “This isn’t just sex, Rory.”

  “No.” Her suddenly bright eyes matched the dampness of his own.

  Blinking the heat away, he
braced his arms on either side of her as she clamped her legs around his hips again. Except this time when the crown of his erection slid through her wet heat, he didn’t pull back. “Guide me home,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She reached down and took hold of him, arching up so that with a slight rock of his hips he was at her opening. A slight flex and he’d be inside her. He swept his mouth over her temple and felt the wild thrum of her pulse. Another way they were the same.

  Then she was taking him in, moaning a little at the tight fit. Whimpering when he’d finally inched all the way in, her entrance stretching slickly while he pressed on. Even as ready as she was, she couldn’t smother her wince once he’d gone as far as he could.

  “I know ‘you’re big’ is a cliché but right now it feels like an understatement,” she gasped, digging her nails into his arms.

  “It’s been a while,” he managed, trying like hell not to move while she got used to him. But then she wriggled and he let out a long, low curse that seemed to set off some manic chain reaction in his body. He rocked his hips, embedding himself so deep that she bucked.

  “Oh fuck, Ror. You’re incredible.”

  “You too.” She closed her eyes and reached down to touch her clit, her fingers brushing over the base of his cock. A smile curved her lips. “Incredibly big.”

  Chuckling, he started to move, gently at first, not leaving her, just working himself back and forth. Her nails scraped down his back and he palmed the soft cheeks of her ass, lifting her into his thrusts. She rose off the blanket, her dark-red nipples pointing straight up while she absorbed his battering strokes.

  “Gonna be quick,” he warned, already at the precipice. She gave a quick squeeze of her pussy around him, almost playfully, and he groaned. “Real quick, baby.”