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“You okay?” Sam asked, rubbing a hand over his lower back in small circles. “Still with me?”

He mumbled nonsense, managing to respond in the affirmative but not much else.

“Okay, it’s all right. I’m going to grab a few things and then get you up.”

He closed his eyes, content to just stay there for a second. Staying seemed like a good thing. Yes, let’s stay.

He didn’t know how long she was gone, a minute probably, but her voice startled him when she came back. “Just me. I’m going to clean you up a little first. You’ll feel warmth. Be still for me.”

A warm washcloth gently wiped away the lubricant. Vaguely he registered that this should feel awkward, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything but enjoy being cared for.

“Okay. Let’s get you up and onto the bed before you fall asleep like that. I’m going to nee

d your help getting you there, though. Think you can do that?”

He wasn’t sure he could move, but he fought that temptation to just lie there and drift a little longer. He felt . . . drunk. But some part of him knew he couldn’t stay like this. He slid back toward his calves and lifted his chest off the bench. It was like lifting the weight of a semitruck, everything heavy and cumbersome.

Sam shoved the bench out of the way and crouched in front of him. She cupped his chin, her eyes searching his, some unknown emotion glittering in hers. She gave him a little smile. “Good job, baby.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead then over his eyelids. “You did great.”

His mind felt like all the wires had been cut, everything sparking and disconnected, and his body hummed. He had this overwhelming need to be touched all over, petted.

“Let’s try to stand, okay?” she said, her voice like silk against his skin.

“O . . . ka . . . y.” The word seemed to float out of him, extra syllables showing up.

With a hand braced on the bench and her gripping his other arm, he got to his feet. She sat him on the edge of the bed and grabbed another warm washcloth to gently wipe off his belly and then the floor. When she was done, she pushed his hair away from his forehead. “I’m going to get you a bottle of water. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t . . .” He reached for her arm. The thought of her leaving made him want to fucking cry. The hand he had on her was trembling. What the ever-loving hell? He let her go. “Sorry. I—I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s okay.” She took his hand and squeezed it, rubbed it between her palms. “Here, why don’t we get you lying down first. You’re flying a little, Gib. Just ride it out, enjoy it. I’ve got you covered.”

He blinked, trying to make sense of her words, but she was already tugging his arm and guiding him up the bed. He scooted backward, and she eased him down onto the pillows.

She touched her forehead to his. “I’ll only be a second.”

She climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom while he tried to get his senses to operate again. His entire body was tingling like he’d been out in the cold. The pain he’d been feeling was now a steady whir of something else altogether, like everything was pulsing and alive in a different way. And though he felt exhausted, all he wanted was to touch Sam, to be touched by her.

He was . . . high.

Sam came back with the water and held it to his lips for him to drink. The cool liquid was shocking against his dry throat at first, and he coughed, but then once it slid down, he gulped and gulped, feeling suddenly parched.

She set the bottle aside, removed her boots, and scooted next to him on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Her scent wrapped around him, the hint of her fruity shampoo but also the unmistakable musk of her arousal. Hunger flared in him. He adjusted his position and laid his head on her stomach, too lethargic to do much else.

She stroked her fingers through his hair and he nuzzled her belly, pressing a kiss there through the thin layer of cotton. “You haven’t come yet. I’m not a very good sub.”

“You have no idea how good you are, Gib. No idea what kind of gift you gave me.”

He pushed up on an elbow and peered down at her, still taken by how right she looked wearing his shirt. “But I didn’t give you anything.”

He wanted to give it all to her right now. Wanted to taste her and kiss her and make her come again and again. To finally see her naked.

“You don’t see it.” She smiled at him, tenderness in her gaze. “You gave me everything.”

“No. Not everything.” He stroked down her belly, finding the juncture between her thighs and cupping her through the shirt. He was crossing boundaries. He was supposed to ask permission to touch, but he couldn’t help himself and she wasn’t stopping him. “Let me make you feel good, mistress.”

She peered at him, those green eyes darkening. “You’re exhausted.”

“Never too exhausted for this. Please?”


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic