The only answer was his rumble of laughter.
I grinned and licked his shaft again, watching how it jumped when I tweaked a certain spot by the tip. Sam’s hand tightened in my hair.
“You’re killing me. Feels so fucking good.”
I continued experimenting, licking and sucking, teasing his balls, until he leaned up and grabbed my hips, twisting my body around until I felt his own hot mouth on me.
Sixty-nine.
If I’d had a wish list of sexual firsts, Sam would be checking things off like a madman.
It was impossible to keep paying attention to his erection while he was pleasuring mine. I became a whimpering blob of goo, so much so that Sam ended up laughing. The vibration of his laughter against my body made me feel even better, and I suddenly arched up, pushing myself deeper into his throat without warning and coming on a hair trigger.
“Aghh!”
Sam laughed and sputtered, trying to stay ahead of my release, but it was no use. When I glanced back down at him, there was cum dripping from his beard and coating his lips.
I let out another cry as my body convulsed again. How in the world was I allowed to be with this man sexually? There should have been a threshold one needed to pass, and I assuredly would never, ever have passed it.
I reapplied myself to my own task and sucked him down as quickly as I could, bobbing up again when I gagged. If I couldn’t give him talent, I could at least offer as much enthusiasm as possible.
It worked. But as soon as he started coming, I quickly pulled off out of fear of being drowned. I didn’t exactly want my inexperience to lead to sudden death right in front of him.
I heaved in a much-needed breath and smiled at my success.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, sobering up. “I could watch you come all day every day.”
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Um, okay. I’m cool with that.”
He laughed again, and it was a joy to see. Until I remembered where he was supposed to be.
I scrambled around and reached for my discarded shirt before using it to wipe his mouth off. “What happened with your mom? Why are you here? What happened?”
I’d wanted so badly to offer to go with him yesterday, to ease his pain or somehow attempt to comfort him while dealing with his family emergency. But it hadn’t been my place. I barely knew him, so I’d forced myself to bite back the ridiculous offer before it could have escaped my lips.
He took the shirt from me and dropped it over the edge of the bed before taking me into his arms. His face was suddenly stormy. “It was all a lie to get me to come home.”
My heart sank. “You’re kidding?”
Sam shook his head. “Wish I was. I’m so angry. And hurt. I watched Mikey go through his own family shit last year, and I remember feeling sorry for him. But I guess I just didn’t want to see how bad it was with my own family. It’s probably why he and I developed such a close relationship. We both needed someone.”
I was envious of their relationship. I’d never had a friend like that. I had Chaya now, but it wasn’t quite the same. She was an extrovert, friends with everyone. Or maybe I was the reason we weren’t as close as we could be. Often, I stopped myself from sharing things out of fear I’d sound like a whiny baby. I’d spent years being told to stop feeling sorry for myself and keep my complaints quiet. My mom was even known to throw out a “You think you have it bad? Imagine that poor skier who lost his chance at an Olympic gold medal” from time to time.
I quickly learned to keep my feelings to myself.
But here I was feeling grateful Sam was sharing his feelings with me. It made me second-guess my habit of keeping my own feelings locked inside.
“I’m glad you have such a good friend,” I said lamely. “But… I still can’t believe your family did that to you. I thought…”
My head spun with so many thoughts. The confusion must have shown on my face.
Sam brushed my hair back and met my eyes. “You thought what, sweetheart?”
“Are all families like this?” The emotion of the question and simultaneous realization hit me suddenly, causing my voice to crack. “I thought… I thought families were supposed to love you. I thought…”
Woah. My eyes flooded. It was too much. The conversation was supposed to be about him. About his family troubles, not mine. I lurched off the bed and hurried to the bathroom to try and get control of myself.
I should have known Sam would be right behind me.
“Hey, hey,” he said softly, grabbing me from behind and pulling me against his front. He wrapped his arms around me and bent his head down to brush a kiss against my ear. “What just happened in there?”
I shook my head and tried to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let me.
“Take a breath,” he murmured. “Take a breath, but please don’t ask me to let you go.”
Instead of trying to pull away again, I turned in his hold and laid my cheek against the soft hair on his chest. “I think families suck,” I said angrily. “So badly. It’s so freaking unfair your family did that to you. I thought families were supposed to love you, to think of your needs above theirs, to be there for you and build you up.” As my rant increased, so did the roughness in my voice. “And it’s all lies. Families are awful. They’re horrible. Why don’t people call them out for what they are? It’s so unfair. Look at Mikey. His dad tried to keep him from being with the love of his life, and he doesn’t even care that his son doesn’t want to talk to him anymore. He doesn’t even care!”
I barely noticed Sam’s attempts to shush me because I was on a roll.
“And after everything you’ve done to help your mom and your sisters, they reward you with lies. To lie about being hurt? And it wasn’t true? That’s horrible. So awful.” I shuddered. “And Sheriff Stanner sits back and lets Patrick and Craig commit actual crimes instead of trying to teach them to be better people, to find more productive ways to spend their time. No one helped Gene find another job after the resort closed. They’ve had years to help him get back on his feet, and yet they’re so hell-bent on revenge… And then what about me?”
At this point the crying was too much for me to keep talking. I clung onto Sam with everything I had, fully realizing this breakdown would most likely be the end of whatever it was we might have been starting between the two of us.
“What about me?” I repeated over and over into his chest as he held me tight and tried to soothe my broken heart.
I didn’t even notice when he carried me back to bed and laid me down. I didn’t notice when he found a soft hand towel and tried to dry my tears.
But I did notice I’d taken his moment of heartbreak and turned it into my own.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, changing my mantra on a dime. “I’m so sorry. It’s not about me. I’m so sorry.”
I felt like the lowest scum. How could I have been so selfish? I pulled the towel out of his hands and used it to finish sopping up the mess on my face before getting up the nerve to look at him. I expected an expression of forced patience on his face or maybe even pity.
But that’s not at all what I saw.
“I think you’re incredible,” he said. The expression on his face was part tender adoration and part… pride? “And it’s about time you realized you were dealt a super-shitty hand.”