Suds and Sam
Page 18
In little circles he angles against my nub as he slides in and out. I toss my head back on the pillow and arch up into him.
“Holy shit.” My butt clenches, everything grows tight, and I dig my heels into the bed.
“Let go, babe.” He presses in so deep I hiss on the precipice of heaven.
Then, he nips my breast at the same time he reaches to my nub and pinches.
“Oh, God.” I buck and stars explode as I fall into this heaven.
At my release, he takes off and thrusts repeatedly into my pulses, keeping me high. Grunting, he moves faster and faster until I wrap my legs around his calves and lock myself to him.
He swells inside of me feeling so damn good, I go off again, and he shouts as he cums.
Spent, we both collapse onto the sheets, sweaty and sated.
While I search for reality, he stretches to the floor and snaps a handcuff to the bedpost. Then, we sleep.
In the morning, we’re snowed in. Woo hoo! That means room service and more sex. However, by noon the sun comes out and we hit the road back to Brooklyn.
He wants to drive my car so I let him.
On the way, he plays the radio and hums along to a country station, his hand on my thigh. “I was, uh, wondering…”
“Yeah?” I’m surprised how he bites his lower lip.
“About what your dad said.”
I put my hand on top of his and squeeze. “Don’t mind him, he’s just being overprotective.”
“Oh.” His face drops and somehow I said something wrong.
“No, wait. Tell me what you were about to say.”
His eyes flick away from the highway for a moment, then return. “What would you think of making me a partner in your private detective business? I got a little money saved up and-”
“Really?” My grin gets real wide. “Sam and Suds?”
“Nah, that sounds like soapy red fish. How about Suds and Sam?”
“Who gets to be boss?”
“The one with the most experience but I guess we could work out the details, if you want.”
He’s driving so I can’t kiss him or take him into my arms and tell him how much I love him. “Suds and Sam. I love it.”
“I love you, babe.”
“Me, too.”
The End
From The Author
Hi Lovely!
Thanks so much for reading Suds and Sam. Mmm-mmm. They mde me laugh so I had to write a novella for Christmas. Scroll down to start reading or click here to order:
A Suds and Sam Christmas
If you want to find out more about Suds, he first makes appearances in:
The Bushwick Series.
Also, there’s a Free Prequel where I explain how Suds and Sam first met:
Suds and Sam, The Prequel
If you’re looking for something completely different, I have a medieval romance novel featuring a hard-headed ex-Templar knight.
How to Train Your Knight.
Or there’s paranormal magic brewing in:
Mated by Magic Series
Make sure to find me on Facebook for fun, prizes, and freebies.
Love and kisses,
Stella
A Suds & Sam Christmas
Chapter One
Sebastian Sutcliff
Sam’s eyes go wide when she picks up her cell phone. “Really? That’s great! Thanks for the tip. I’ll call back right away.”
“Who was it?” I almost hate to ask. The only time she gets this excited is when her non-existent private detective agency finds work. I was hoping to get a few weeks off and spend most of my free time in bed… with her.
“We got another missing persons case.” She does a little dance around her room in her stocking feet and when she shakes that sexy behind, I have to grin.
“Another? Seriously, Sam? I believe the first was not a person, it was a cat. A cat-napping, to be precise.”
“Whatever. We have work.”
“Whoa, now little darlin’, you have work. I have vacation. Not having a day off all year makes a man want some down-time.”
“What about Suds and Sam’s Detective Agency?” When her lower lip goes out, I start to cave in but maybe just this once I can convince her to do things by the book.
“It isn’t a legal, not yet. We still need licenses, a building, business cards…”
“Don’t be so negative. I got a website. C’mon. It’ll be fun. Besides, after, we can have we-solved-the-case sex.”
My cock gives the deciding vote. “Okay, I’m in. Who’s missing?” I figure it’s probably a cheating spouse or another brand of low-life. Otherwise people call the cops, not us.
“Jesus.”
“Come again?” This ought to be good. I lean back, sipping on my whiskey.
“The Miraculous Weeping Baby of Brooklyn was stolen. Don’t tell me you never heard of him.” Lovely blond lashes raise above the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Full of pumpkin pie, pasta, and turkey, I’m pretty thankful this year. I got a beautiful woman who says she loves me, her Uncle Vinny hasn’t killed me yet and her dad was almost friendly at dinner.
Life is good. At least it was until about thirty seconds ago. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I grunt which could mean yes or no. “So, ah, baby Jesus was stolen.”
“Not any baby Jesus. The one that cries real tears. My Uncle Vinny put out a reward of two thousand dollars. I could pay the rent and my credit cards as well. This is perfect.”
“What’s the catch?” I pull her onto my lap, wanting some of that enthusiasm on my lips but she frowns.
“Whadda youz mean by dat?”
“I meanz dis.” Grinning, I kiss my Brooklyn babe, lovin’ how her accent comes out when you call her out on her bullshit.
I tried to emulate her but being a southerner, I need some more practice. “Why aren’t the police handling it?”
“Father O’Connell isn’t cooperating.” She waves my concern away, grabs her beer, and takes a sip.
“Why the hell not?” I picture all sort of reasons, none of them good, but she just shrugs.
“Apparently, he’s waiting for a miracle. That would be us.”
KEEP READING….