Like a revelation, the most real and honest sexual encounter of my life.
A slow boil started at the base of my spine, and I hauled Sam up, her back flush against my front as I fucked up into her with furious abandon, my thumb strumming and tapping her clit in relentless rhythm. She wound an arm around my neck, arching against me as we breathed harshly, both of us straining and seeking a peak that I wasn’t sure I had ever scaled before.
Not like this.
My release shot through me like a cannon blast, taking Sam with me a second later. I couldn’t stop the hoarse shout that escaped from my throat, not any more than Sam could have held back her own shriek of pleasure. The release ebbed and flowed, until we wilted together into the mussed blankets, breathing hard, sweat mingling as it dried.
* * *
Scratch, scratch
“What’s that noise?” I asked. I was curled around Sam, idly kissing her neck and enjoying the feel of her bare skin against mine.
“Hmm?” She lifted her head and looked over at the closed door. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Must have been my imagination.” I swept a hand over her soft breasts, and down to the gentle curve of her belly.
Scratch, scratch
Hearing the sound again, I stopped my caresses. “There it is again.”
“Oh, that.” Sam snuggled back against me and ran a finger along a swirling tattoo. “That’s just Marge. She’s just jealous that we’re in here and she’s out there. She’ll go lay down soon.”
“Oh, your dog.” Suddenly, I was mortified. I walked into my dream girl’s house and didn’t ask about any of it—not the house, her art, the dog—instead, I just fell on her like a total horndog. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask about her. Or anything. I just—God, I’m such an asshole. This was not a booty call, I swear, I—"
A silvery laugh erupted out of her, and she rolled to face me. The warm smile on her face put a stop to my babbling immediately. “Believe me, Ian,” she said as she placed a warm hand on my cheek. “I wanted it, too. Just as much as you did. I was just—well, a little nervous, and I wasn’t sure what to do. You were perfect.”
“Perfect?” I smiled and pulled her closer. “Well, give me a little time, and we’ll see if we can improve on perfection, huh?”
Forty-five minutes later, a pizza finally did arrive.
“I love your house,” I said, looking around at the decor as I pulled a slice out of the box and took a big bite. Gooey melted cheese filled my mouth, and I sighed with pleasure. “It’s got a lot of personality.”
Sam, perched next to me on the couch in just a t-shirt and panties, chewed thoughtfully as she looked around the living room.
“You think?” she said as she licked a smear of sauce from her thumb. “It was my grandmother’s house, and she left it to me in her will. Most people my age don’t live in places like this.”
“No, they don’t. I don’t.” I looked over at the fireplace, at the knickknacks that covered it. “I live in one of those sterile condos. This is way better. It’s you.”
I felt a cold, wet nose press to my bare feet, and looked down to see Marge, begging for scraps with her graying snout up in the air. She cocked her head, ears flapping as she gave me her most mournful stare.
“Ignore her,” Sam said through a mouthful of pizza. “She gets too many treats as it is.”
As though she understood every word, Marge huffed a long-suffering sigh and ambled over to a worn dog bed in the corner, her long ears and loose skin wobbling with every step.
Sam finished her last bite of pizza and wiped her mouth carefully, then turned to look at me. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she looked so beautiful in that moment that something tugged at my heart. Something real and warm and genuine.
“So, just forget about it if I’m way off base here,” she began, sounding nervous. But do you want to stay here at my place? Tonight?”
“Sweetheart,” I said, a wide smile breaking across my face and something like relief spilling inside me. “There’s nothing else I would rather do.”