by Tawny Weber
She wanted to purr.
But she resisted.
But when she pulled back the denim, freeing the rigid length of his erection, she couldn’t hold back her hum of appreciation.
Wow.
He was huge.
For a long moment she could only stare.
Sleek flesh speared high, the hardness thicker than her fist. The silken head beckoned, making her mouth water.
The idea of drooling on him pulled Sammi out of her trance. But didn’t ease the need to taste.
Led by both passion and curiosity, she shifted closer. Before she tasted, she blew a puff of air over the silken head, smiling a little when Laramie’s fingers slid into her hair.
He wanted her.
She ran her tongue around the head, sipping at the dewy proof. She ran the flat of her tongue down the shaft. Then up again before taking him into her mouth.
She wanted to suck. As need tightened in painful demand, she wanted to swallow him whole.
But Laramie had other ideas.
One sucking swish of her tongue and he angled himself into a sitting position, pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a kiss so hot, so voracious that she’d swear he did swallow her whole.
His tongue thrust, his mouth demanding as his hands made faster work of her shorts than Sammi could have done herself. Her breath came in hard pants against his mouth as his fingers brushed over the sensitive flesh of her lower belly. She lifted her hips, helping him free her from the fabric.
It wasn’t until she slid her legs against his, trying to wrap herself around him, that she realized he’d stripped his jeans away, too.
They were naked.
Together.
Why that made Sammi nervous all of a sudden was a mystery.
Just as she was about to suggest they move to the bed—where there were blankets—Laramie dipped his hand between her legs. The second his fingers touched her quivering nether lips, Sammi’s nerves, her embarrassment and most of her thoughts simply disappeared on a wave of heady pleasure.
His fingers skimmed, swirled, teased while he took the kiss deeper. Sammi pressed closer, her hips undulating in time with his hand, needing more. Wanting everything.
Then he dipped inside her.
One finger. Two.
In.
And out.
That’s all it took before Sammy exploded.
It was as if he’d lit a fuse, because her body simply ignited. She felt as if she were on fire, the heat of her orgasm was so intense. Her breath burned her throat; her heart pounded in her ears.
And she wanted more.
She wanted everything.
“In me,” she panted. “In me. In me. Please, I need you in me.”
Ever the gentleman, Laramie shifted.
Eyes closed, her back still arched to press her sensitive folds tighter against his fingers, she felt him move between her thighs. Sammi widened her legs, planting her feet and digging her heels into the floor. The need in her was so powerful, so intense that it bordered on pain.
Then she felt him pressing against her still vibrating lips.
Waiting.
Remembering how big he was, Sammi’s eyes shot open. As she stared up at Laramie, nerves trickled through her desire. His face was tight, his eyes fogged with passion.
Then he smiled. A sweetly reassuring smile so similar to the one he’d given her when they were kids that Sammi actually felt herself fall over the edge into love.
As she fell, Laramie leaned down to brush a gentle kiss over her lips. Then, his eyes locked on hers, he slowly slid inside.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
He was so deep.
So hard.
So perfect.
Sammi’s breath shuddered, her hands sliding over his chest, along his shoulders, down his arms.
He slowly slid out, almost all the way. She tightened her legs, unwilling to let him go.
That was apparently the signal Laramie was looking for, because he slid in again, faster this time.
She gasped at the delicious friction.
He reached between them to cup her breast in one hand, his body balanced on the other as he continued his hard, deep slide in and out.
Each thrust pushed her higher, closer and closer to that elusive promise of pleasure. Nothing she’d ever felt before could compare. The orgasms he’d already given her were just teases, she realized. Leading up to something bigger. Something mind-blowing.
Something she had to have.
Now.
Her breath coming in sobbing gasps, Sammi grabbed hold of his hips, needing him to give her that final push.
“Please,” she begged, arching her back so high that only her shoulders and head were still on the floor.
“Please, what?” Laramie teased, his words just a little hoarse as he continued the delicious torture of those slow thrusts.
“Please, Christian,” she groaned through teeth clenched tight.
Whether it was the need in her voice or that she’d used his given name, something flipped a switch.
And Laramie went wild.
His growl was low and intense, his face sharp as he pounded deeper. His fingers gripped her butt, holding her high for his sharp thrusts.
Sammi exploded, pleasure bursting into a thousand tiny pieces of ecstasy. Her vision went black as she gave a long, keening moan. Just as she felt she’d reached the peak, Laramie’s fingers tightened.
His thrusts grew sharper. Jerkier.
He groaned, long and hard as his pleasure burst through her. She could hear his breath, hot and jagged, ripping through the air. As she tried to catch her breath, tried to find the will to open her eyes, he collapsed over her, their sweat-slicked bodies sliding together as he switched positions.
Sammi automatically curled against him, her head tucked into the curve of his throat.
Wow, was all she could think.
Just... Oh, my God. Wow.
* * *
DAMN IT ALL to hell.
His mind spinning counterpoint to his heart pounding a tribal rhythm in his head, Laramie tried to regulate his breathing.
But even as he tightened his hold on Sammi Jo, he couldn’t think.
All he could do was feel.
And he felt incredible.
As he slowly drifted back to awareness, he tried to figure out why he felt so different.
She’d called him Christian.
Was that it?
She was the first woman he’d been with in probably a decade who even knew his given name. He’d like to think it was that added intimacy that had pushed it from great sex into mind-blowingly intense lovemaking.
Laramie had been with his share of women. Hell, according to a lot of the guys he knew, he’d been with their share, too.
But lying here with Sammi, the aftershocks of his orgasm still echoing through his system, he felt as if this had been his first time.
Crazy, was all he could think as she snuggled closer.
Eyes closed, acting on instinct, Laramie brushed his hand through the heavy, silken tangles of her hair.
Yeah. Thinking this sex had been better than any other he’d ever had, that was crazy thinking. He just might have to adjust to being crazy, he realized as he drifted off.
It might have been a half hour. It might have been a lifetime when he felt Sammi stir in his arms.
“Laramie?” Sammi asked, her mouth an erotic caress as she murmured the words against his chest. He was grateful that she was back to using his surname, and surprised she’d known he’d prefer it. Then he realized he shouldn’t be. Sammi seemed to understand everything about him, to know everything there was to know.
“Yeah?” he finally drawled, opening his eyes to give her a look sleepy with passion.
“Are you done for the night?”
“Done?” His smile widened as he tangled his fingers in her silken hair. “Sugar, I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.”
Laramie automatically s
tiffened as the words left his mouth, his brain shouting a warning. Never say that sort of thing to a woman, it chided. That was the kind of thing that could be taken as a promise. For a man who never promised anything, those words were forbidden.
And never before in his life had he needed a reminder of that.
But Sammi was different.
He’d give Sammi anything. Including promises.
Before he could freak out at the realization, Sammi shimmied down his body, leaving a trail of hot temptation in her wake. Her hair tickled his thighs as she settled between them, her eyes wicked as she smiled up at him.
“I was just wondering if you liked this.” She slowly traced her finger around the head of his erection. Around and around and around, swirling over the sensitive flesh. “Because I like this. Very much.”
Her bold words were said with a smile, but Laramie could hear the shyness behind them.
“There isn’t anything that you could do that I won’t like,” he said honestly, sliding his fingers into the silken fall of her fiery hair.
“It’s never been like this,” she confessed quietly, her gaze on her hand instead of meeting his.
Those words weren’t anything new. Laramie had heard them plenty of times before. He’d always chalked them up to sex talk. A flattering sort of thanks for the good time.
But as with everything else, Sammi was different. Before he could tell her, though, she continued.
“I didn’t get why everyone thought sex was such a big deal. It’s not that I was a prude or anything.” She looked up with a frown. “I mean, who could be raised the way I was and be a prude?”
“Maybe that’s why you didn’t think it was a big deal,” he mused. “Because you were raised to see it as a commodity. Something cheap and easy to walk away from.”
Even as he said that, Laramie realized that that’s exactly how he’d always thought of sex. Something that felt good, something he had a healthy talent for. But it was something he walked away from without a single regret or a backward glance.
Except with Sammi.
Laramie’s gaze roamed her face as he realized—and accepted—the fact that walking away from her would be filled with regrets.
“No, it’s you that makes the sex special.” She wet her lips before giving him a sincere smile. “You make it amazing. It’s as if you’re completely focused on each touch, on every move. You’re like my dream lover.”
Laramie’s sexual skills, his talent in and out of bed, and his legendary gift with women had garnered a lot of praise over the years. But nothing had ever meant as much as hearing those words from Sammi Jo.
Not ready to examine why, he turned to his tried-and-true distraction.
“Then let’s see what kind of dream we can come up with this time,” he suggested.
He shifted Sammi on top of him, his hands guiding her into position. Her eyes were bright, all that wild red hair tousled around a face flushed with desire and whisker burns. Her smile filled with sweet desire.
And for the first time in his life, he worried about being as good as a woman deserved.
10
MMM. SHE FELT so good.
Had she ever felt this good?
Wrapped in the warmth of Laramie’s arms and an amazing dream, Sammi Jo drifted in that magical place between sleeping and awake, snuggling deeper into the delight.
She breathed deep, her entire being filled with Laramie’s scent. His touch. His flavor. And last night, his body. God, he was amazing. Her fingers curled into the scattering of hair on Laramie’s chest while her mind tallied the orgasms. Yes, she’d had more orgasms in the past thirty-six hours than she’d had in her entire life. Even now, teetering on the edge of exhaustion, her body was so tender with pleasure that even breathing was a turn-on.
She lay there listening to his heartbeat, for the first time understanding the obsession so many people had with sex. She hated thinking about next week when the sex would be gone. Laramie would be gone.
Laramie would be gone, and she’d be facing the fallout of cancelling her wedding. Oh, how ugly it would be.
It was the right thing to do, though. Now that she knew what happy really felt like, could she settle for less? She’d have to, she realized. Because, again, Laramie was leaving in a week.
And taking all the great sex, and happiness, with him.
Tension grabbed tight, squeezing away the pleasure until all that was left was burning eyes and a knot of misery in her belly. Sammi struggled to breathe through the panic. Now, instead of combing her fingers through Laramie’s chest hair she was grabbing enough to yank it all out.
Afraid of waking him, even more afraid of having to try to explain the flurry of emotions to him before she even understood them herself, Sammi carefully slipped off his body and, with enough regret to make her eyes burn again, climbed out of the bed.
The hardwood feeling like ice against her bare feet, Sammi froze, her eyes locked on Laramie’s face until she was sure she hadn’t woke him. She counted to ten, timing her count to his inhalations. Then she counted another ten, because well, look at that gorgeous chest. When her fingers tingled with the need to touch him again, she forced herself to hurry from the room.
In the tiny bathroom, Sammi pressed her hands against her chest, hoping the odd feeling in there was illness, not her heart breaking. Peering into the black-splotched mirror, she studied her face. Messy morning hair tangled in a halo around her pale face. Her eyes were blurry and faintly bruised from her lack of sleep and her lips a little swollen. But all in all, she looked like herself.
By the time she was sitting in the rickety rocker on the porch with her coffee, Sammi was laughing at herself. Silly, being scared of awesome sex. Just because wild physical encounters and multiple orgasms weren’t normal in her world didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy them.
For now.
But even as the thought occurred to her, Sammi realized that it wasn’t the awesome sex that she was afraid of.
It was what it meant for the rest of her life that scared the bejesus out of her.
She’d been so wrapped up in Laramie, so focused on the two of them and how good she felt with him, that she’d conveniently ignored reality.
Even as they’d made love a third time in the shower that first night, turning each other on as they washed away the stickiness of their frosting-coated sex, she hadn’t been worried. After all, it was just the two of them.
Because they’d wanted to keep it just the two of them, they’d snuck out of her apartment in the wee hours. Sammi hadn’t thought twice at Laramie’s suggestion that she follow him in her truck so that nobody questioned her not being at the inn.
They’d spent the past few days at the cabin exploring a kaleidoscope of delights. Sex and laughter. Shared secrets and mutual orgasms. Long looks and satisfied moans. They’d talked about everything from memories to movies, pastimes to politics. He’d told her a little about his job. Not the secret stuff, but the type of training that went into it. She’d told him about her work at the inn and the frustration of feeling stuck.
But now, with the bright morning sun burning through the fantasy she’d wrapped herself in, she had to face reality.
Wild physical encounters and multiple orgasms shouldn’t be a part of her life because she was engaged to be married.
Sammi took a careful sip of her coffee, hoping the flavor would wash away the bitterness in her throat.
That she’d been okay with that before—so okay with it that she’d defended the idea of spending her life in a blandly sexless, humorless, joyless marriage—proved how messed up her thinking was.
Or maybe just how messed up her life would be if she actually married Sterling.
There.
She’d admitted it.
Her engagement was a mistake and she wanted out of it.
How did she get out of it, though?
The wedding was in a week and a half. She had two dresses, four bridesmaids, a bland white cake without
iced cherry frosting and a father-of-the-groom with very specific expectations.
And a missing fiancé.
Who’d been thoughtful enough to text the previous night to assure her that he was okay—and to ask her to make sure his rent was paid on time. Since Laramie had insisted she text back with questions only Sterling could answer as what he called proof of life, she felt pretty confident believing that he really was okay.
And, given that nowhere in his texts had he expressed any affection or assurances, she felt just as confident believing that she wouldn’t be breaking his heart when she ended the engagement. His father, of course, was a different matter altogether.
But while she was grateful to Mr. Barclay, she realized that Laramie was right. She’d let the older man run her life. Right down to taking his subtle hints to marry his son, she realized with a surprised shake of her head.
Well, no more.
She couldn’t break it off with Sterling until she talked with him face-to-face. Until then, she was going to embrace the moment and enjoy every second of her time with Laramie.
Her head resting on the chair, Sammi closed her eyes and rocked. Despite knowing that the next week would be filled with arguments, pressure, gossip and finger-pointing judgment, she felt a deep sense of inner calm. She breathed in the rich fragrance of her coffee mingling with the clear mountain air and realized that whatever else happened, now that she’d made the decision to break it off with Sterling, she was at peace.
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a gray checked shirt so big it could wrap around her twice and with her smile finally at ease, Sammi Jo hummed her way into the kitchen. Her bare feet made no sound on the sun-dappled hardwood floor, but the refrigerator door squealed a protest as she pulled it open.
No wonder, she noted with raised brows. The poor thing was practically empty. She considered the shelf of beer cans, two eggs and a hunk of salami, then shrugged.
Who said a person couldn’t live on love?
Sammi gave a little shiver of delight, reveling in the freedom of being able to do whatever she wanted. And, she ran a hand down her well-pleasured body, whoever she wanted.
