by Lynne Silver
His smile was dazzling. “I like the way you think.”
“That’s not all you’re gonna like.”
The minute his front door closed behind her, she started for the stairs, as if this were her domain and Sam was the guest. Her shirt got pulled up and off and tossed to the side. Shoes next, and then she climbed the stairs, unzipping her pale green capri pants as she went. They found a resting place at the landing. Behind her, she could feel Sam following her, and from the sound of it, he was also tearing off clothes.
She made it to the top of the landing, then paused, having never been upstairs in his house before. He brushed past her, and she followed him into the bedroom and through to the master bath. The entire wall above the sink counter was a giant mirror, and the lighting in the renovated older bathroom was none too flattering.
Casey averted her eyes and focused instead on Sam and his spectacular ass, which was in her line of sight as he leaned past her to turn on the shower. He turned back to her. “It takes a minute to heat up. Older home.”
She nodded. “Then we’ll have to keep each other warm until the water is ready.”
He smiled and let his gaze roam up and down her body. She crossed her arms over her breasts.
“No, don’t cover them. I beg you. I’ve been fantasizing about your breasts for fourteen years. Let me enjoy the moment.”
“Sam.” Her cheeks felt hot, and she knew if she looked in the mirror, they’d be pink, but she was not turning around. Repeat, not going to turn around and look at her naked body in the mirror. It was supposed to be one of her therapeutic exercises to practice looking in the mirror and seeing her body as beautiful instead of seeing her cellulite and other imperfections. This was not the time, as she was naked with Sam, who apparently was having no qualms about his naked body.
And why would he? His body in his sweaty shorts and T-shirt after basketball had hinted at muscular perfection, and she thought the view sans the clothes was even better.
“They’re even better than I thought,” Sam said, interrupting her own perusal of his body.
“They’re just breasts,” she said, “and they’re average size.”
Sam put his hands on her shoulders and forcibly turned her around to face the mirror. “Casey Cooper, there is nothing average about your rack.”
“Sam,” she protested his crudeness, but still kept her stare directed at a point on the low right of the mirror, not looking at her own naked body.
“You’re not looking.” His finger tweaked a nipple and she inhaled, and she glanced involuntarily at the picture they made. Sam’s taller body loomed behind her, and his large hands roamed over the swells of her breasts. His skin was a dark contrast to her fair coloring. As she had strawberry-blond hair, her skin was pale, almost white, especially in the areas that never saw the sun, such as her breasts.
“And, oh, I’ve wondered…” He trailed off as his fingers reached the tiny triangle of hair covering her pubic bone.
“Wondered what?” she demanded, trying to meet his gaze in the mirror, but he was busy watching his fingers sift through the curls and one fingertip disappear between her legs, eliciting her gasp.
“What you looked like down here. Would it match your hair color? Be paler? Darker? Fourteen years, I’ve waited to solve the mystery, and now I know. Utter perfection.” His finger found a sensitive spot, and her palms reached out for purchase on the counter, sending her rear into his erection.
“Look at us, Casey. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” Sam said.
She’d never felt anything more beautiful than his fingers toying with her gently, but still she couldn’t find it in herself to watch them in the mirror.
“You’re not watching, Casey.”
“No,” she whispered. “Keep touching me, please.”
“Happily, but I think the water is ready.”
He stepped backward, taking her with him until he helped her over the edge of the tub and under the spray of the shower.
Quickly, she ducked and maneuvered so he would be under the hot spray, because her makeup wasn’t applied to withstand hot shower sex. She didn’t want to terrify Sam with raccoon eyes from drippy mascara.
He rinsed off quickly under the showerhead, leaving a pool of soapy suds at their feet, while Casey enjoyed the view of his muscular body bending and twisting as hot water sluiced down his wide chest.
“Come here.” He crooked a finger, but she shook her head and returned the gesture, stepping back.
“You’re barely wet,” he said. “Don’t you want a shower?”
“I showered this morning, and I didn’t play basketball. Besides,” she lowered her voice to a sultry invitation, “I’m plenty wet.”
His eyes widened, and in a second, she was being backed into the tile wall as his big body invaded her space, his hard cock pushing against her lower belly. She reached a hand to encircle it, thrilled at Sam’s groan.
“Let me feel your so-called wetness,” he ordered. “Put your foot here.” He helped her lift her foot onto the tub’s edge, spreading her legs, giving his hand plenty of room to maneuver and touch her core. She balanced by losing her grasp on his erection and looping her arms around his neck.
“Sam,” she breathed as his fingers found her most sensitive skin and took her to a new height of pleasure. Who would’ve ever guessed that she’d be naked in the shower with Sam Cooper, and she’d be super happy about it? Like super-duper happy and getting happier every second. He really knew what he was doing, and a tiny part of her brain felt a little bad that she wasn’t giving him anything. She was simply taking the pleasure he offered.
Her hands clung to his wide shoulders, and she leaned up to take his kiss. His erection jutted out from his hips, brushing against her wet belly, enticing her as to what was coming next.
This was the first time, maybe ever, that she wasn’t self-conscious during sex, and it was all thanks to the man sharing the shower with her. Instead of worrying about how her body looked, she only concentrated on how it felt. And, oh, man…it felt gooood.
His fingers danced a rhythm between her swollen, wet lips, tantalizing, teasing, and drawing out a throbbing kind of pleasure. Oh, wow, had Sam Cooper been this sexy in high school? No. She knew the answer to that question, and back then, she hadn’t been ready for this kind of passion, either. It was the kind of bliss she wanted to make last for hours, if not days, except her body couldn’t handle it and was quickly coming to a pinnacle of piercing orgasm that had her pleading and digging her fingers into his muscular biceps.
“Sam…”
“It’s okay, baby. Let it go. You’re making me the happiest man in America right now. Come for me. I love feeling you on my fingers.”
Oh, God. His words…
His fingers moved faster, eliciting a scream and a moment where her eyes were shut to everything except to the pleasure raining down on her and spreading throughout her body. Her breath came in gasps, and her heart raced as fast if she’d run a marathon in her Louboutins.
Sam held her as she came down from her high, neither of them speaking as he cradled her and made her feel worshipped. When she thought she could speak without passing out, she met his gaze.
For a second, she nearly turned away because the intensity on his face disrupted her entire world. He looked at her as if she were his entire reason for breathing, and she didn’t feel worthy. She was the same flawed Casey Cooper she’d always been. Sure, she was smart and good at her job, and could rock a short skirt and heels like no one’s business, but it didn’t mean she was worthy of the kind of adoration Sam had always given her. God, after the pleasure he’d bestowed upon her, it was possible she was wearing a matching expression when looking at him.
“Good?” he asked in a deep murmur.
“Amazing. What can I do for you? Don’t get all noble and say this was about my pleasure. I want to touch you now.”
He kissed her nose, then turned the shower off. “I had no intention of ending
things here. I’m pretty sure my dick is going to fall off if you don’t wrap your hand around it.”
“Sam.” But she was laughing, having never expected that kind of bluntness from him.
“Out we go.” He half lifted, half picked her up and set her on the beige bath mat. She was still in a haze as he wrapped a towel around her shoulders and hugged her from behind. She turned in his arms to kiss him. It was starting to feel as if she’d never get her fill of kisses from Sam.
The kiss started off slow and sedate but quickly evolved into a nine on the Richter scale. Totally earth-shaking. Sam backed her up until her towel-covered bottom was level with the laminate counter.
Cocking a hip, she perched until she was sitting on the counter, her thighs wrapped around Sam’s hips. Their mouths stayed connected while the rest of their bodies mimicked the ultimate act of intimacy. He continued to drip water onto her until finally he stepped back and laughed.
“Sorry. Let me grab a towel.”
As she was in the only bath-size towel in the room, he grabbed the hand towel and rubbed it across his light hair, darkened from the water. Then he was back on her, kissing her and kneading her breasts while her hands roamed across his shoulder blades then down to the globes of his ass. When she slid a hand to his front to hold his erection, he pushed back.
“I’m too close,” he said, “and I want to be in you when I come.”
“Then grab a condom,” she invited, earning a wide grin.
Luckily, they were in the bathroom and protection was a drawer away. When he was sheathed, he repositioned himself in her embrace and lined himself up teasingly, achingly close, but didn’t penetrate her yet.
She arched her back and scooted her hips, encouraging him in, but he remained frustratingly out of reach. “Sam. Please.” She took a gentle bite of his right arm, which was braced on the counter in line with her head.
“You’re bossy here too? God, that turns me on.” He returned the love bite, and she squealed. His palms scooted low on her back and pulled her closer to his body. His hips found hers and his cock connected with her, pushing gently and slowly in.
She sucked back a breath as Sam filled her, loving and hating that he was taking his time and being gentle with her, letting her get used to his invasion. Well, what if she wanted to be plundered?
Her body was primed from the orgasm he’d already given her, and she used it to her advantage, pulling him in and tightening around him.
“Casey,” he bit out, and the muscles in his arms tightened.
“More, Sam,” she said, closing her eyes and letting her body enjoy the sensation of being filled to perfection. Together, they found a rhythm, bending and arching into each other, intent on the joy of being together at last. She clung to him, heels digging into his spine as he thrust in and out of her body, both of them crying out their pleasure; her with little utterings from the back of her throat, him with groans.
“Gonna come, Case.”
“Me too,” she cried, as their bodies joined in orgasm and her body fell apart around him.
Suddenly, she was falling literally, as a terrible, loud cracking noise echoed throughout the bathroom. Casey found herself on the floor sitting on the remains of the countertop. Sam was doing his best to hold her, though their bodies had disconnected.
“Oh, shit,” Sam said, looking down at her with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”
“What happened?” Gingerly, she shifted from side to side and all her bits and pieces seemed intact.
“I should’ve listened to the Realtor. The bathroom does need a remodel.” And then he started to laugh.
“It’s not funny.”
He hauled her to her feet and dusted her butt off. “Oh, come on, Casey. It’s hilarious. We broke furniture, the sex was that spectacular. I mean, I always knew if I ever got you naked, my head might explode. I never imagined it’d be my countertop.”
Casey glanced at the remains of the should-have-been-replaced-in-1988 counter. They’d been doing their dirty deed on the counter where the woman of the house would sit to put on her makeup. The section that held the sink was relatively intact, but had a jagged pressboard exposed where they’d cracked it off.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked again at her silence.
“I’m embarrassed,” she muttered. “My weight broke your counter.”
“Casey,” he protested, “a sneeze aimed the wrong way could’ve broken it.”
She narrowed her eyes in his direction. “How long have you lived here?”
“A year,” he said, and reached for the towel that had been under her when they’d fallen. Gallantly, he handed it to her, and she wrapped it around her torso.
“See. It hasn’t broken in a year.”
“I haven’t had sex on it before,” he said and leaned slightly toward her. “I was leaning on it with all my weight. If anyone broke the counter, it was me.”
“I’m sorry your counter broke, Sam,” she said. “I hope it’s not expensive to replace.”
He shrugged. “Hell, I don’t care about the cost. I’m a little bummed about the counter, because I kind of wanted to keep it forever to commemorate the first time we made love here. Now this piece of plastic, which should be framed or bronzed, is going to end up in a landfill.”
At his sad look, she found her sense of humor again and covered her smile with her hand. Her smile morphed into giggle, which then broke into outright laughter. Within seconds, both Sam and Casey were on the floor next to the counter remains holding their sides, tears streaming down their cheeks.
“We…broke…the counter,” Casey managed. “I’ve never had furniture-breaking sex before.”
“I will never forget our first time,” Sam said, suddenly sitting straight. He reached past Casey and grabbed a scrap of counter about the size of his hand and stood.
“Come on.” Totally naked, he strolled out of the bathroom and downstairs to his desk. Curious, Casey followed with a towel tight around her midriff.
He scrabbled around his desk and found a Sharpie, but she couldn’t see what he was writing. Finally, he straightened and handed it to her.
She read, CC + SC, March 15, 2015. “A commemorative plaque of our first time together,” he said. “Bet none of your other lovers got you a keepsake.” They broke into laughter again.
“Beware the ides of March, indeed,” Casey said. “But you should get a keepsake too.”
“You hold on to that. Someday, if things go as I hope, it’ll be framed and hung in the bathroom of the house we live in.”
The humor of the hour was sucked out of her as fast as a NASCAR car raced around the track. She didn’t know how to respond. “Sam…”
“Don’t, Casey.” He looked at her seriously. “I know you’re going to say it’s too soon to make a declaration like that.”
“We’ve been on two dates,” she said.
“I’ve known you since I was fourteen. I’ve wanted you that long too.”
“You’ve wanted an idealized version of me,” she protested, “not the real me.” But as she said it, she remembered all his notes throughout high school shoved into her locker. There’d been words of encouragement, compliments, and silly jokes. The notes were still in a shoe box in her old room at her mother’s apartment. What did that say that she’d kept Sam’s notes along with all her other high school keepsakes?
After she’d had to leave college for a semester thanks to her anorexia, she’d recovered at home, commuting to the local community college. Sam’s notes had sustained her on some of her rougher days. She’d taken them out and read them repeatedly. Knowing someone out there thought she was beautiful and perfect had helped in ways he could never had guessed when he’d typed her notes. The press of tears coated her eyes, and she blinked them back, looking off to the side.
“Casey.” Sam reached for her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He cuddled her against his still bare chest. “It was just a countertop.”
She giggled and hi
ccupped against his skin.
“Did you snort on me?” He held her at arm’s length and examined his damp chest. “Ugh, I take it back. We’re done.”
“Sam,” she protested, relieved that the tears were replaced by giggles.
He grabbed her again and carried her backward to the sofa. “I don’t have you on a pedestal, Casey. I’ve always seen you for who you are. I didn’t know about your eating disorder, but I did see that you weren’t as confident as you had everyone else believe. I think that hint of insecurity is what I loved, because it made you human. If you had really been as perfect as you pretended, you would’ve been terrifying.”
The sofa hit the backs of her knees, and she collapsed backward, Sam following her down. He braced himself over her and said, “Are you too sore, or can I make love to you again?”
If he had asked her two minutes before, she would have said there was no way she’d be in the mood to have sex shortly after two rocking orgasms, but her body begged to differ.
Chapter Eight
Sam’s brain was filled with fog today, and no wonder. The sex haze had filled it last night, and now it was Monday morning. On a good day, Mondays were a bit slower than the rest of the week, but after spending yesterday afternoon making love to the woman of his dreams, it was no mystery why his head was operating on sluggish.
So Casey’s overheard conversation was the best lead they had. Everywhere else they turned was a dead end. Best he could tell, the breaches were a pure case of social engineering.
They’d gone into several of the affected schools to dig deeper into their networks and systems, but found nothing. As usual, employees had crappy passwords, easily guessed by anyone who knew them more than a minute. In most cases, it seemed nothing had been stolen. It was as if whoever was breaking in was part of the network, which supported Sam’s social engineering theory. Except it didn’t make sense that dozens of schools were now reporting similar security breaches. Three or four could’ve been explained away, but not this many. As he’d explained to Casey late during pillow talk, social engineering was holding the door open for someone at work, even if you needed a badge or key to get in. It was rude to shut the door in someone’s face, and social engineers counted on that fact. Only in the private school case, it was as if fifty separate people were holding virtual doors open at fifty different schools at roughly the same time.
