Page 57 of The Backtrack
The wind had started to kick up, and the palm fronds frantically blew around them.
“Look, we either go to my bedroom, or we try out here and potentially become two fatalities of the storm.”
Damon gripped her tightly and proceeded to make for the screened-in porch door.
The realization that her childhood best friend was carrying her to her old bedroom in the middle of a hurricane was surreal. All perfectly fine, she hoped. And, to be honest, she really didn’t care if it wasn’t, because what she wanted more than anything was all of Damon.
He lightly pushed open the door of her bedroom and managed to kick it closed behind them. Damon led them to her bed and as he dropped her on top of it, he stopped to look at her. “You are so goddamn beautiful.”
“Even on top of a dolphin-print duvet?”
He smiled. “Especiallyon top of a dolphin-print duvet.”
“You are wild, Damon Rocha.” Sam sat up and pulled him in for another kiss.
He slicked a hand through his wet hair, but a thick strand fell in front of his eyes. He kept his gaze trained on her as he kicked off his boots. She came to the edge of the bed and reached for his belt buckle, undoing it with a click.
“Are you sure?” he asked as she reached for the button on his jeans.
“I think I’ve been waiting for this moment since I left.” She began to push his jeans down his hips. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He closed the space between them, kicking his pants off as he grabbed her face and slowly kissed her. He was soft, but the stubble was rough, and the combination of the friction and sweetness sent a gasp through her. He reached his hand around to unclasp her bra, fumbled, and she finished the clasp for him. She slid her bra off and he sucked in a breath as she leaned back on the bed.
He licked his lips and traced down the middle of her with his index finger. He carefully pulled her shorts and underwear down, and she was suddenly self-conscious to have Damon just staring at her. Or, rather, highly aware that Damon was drinking her in, in a way no one had before.
“When you blush, your whole body turns pink,” he said.
“Fair skin, I guess.” Sam bit her lip and added, “Wanna find out what color I turn when I...”
She didn’t have to finish the thought. Damon climbed onto the bed and sucked the bud of her nipple into his mouth. The sensation was so unexpected that she gasped and pulled back, but he held her steady with a palm on her back and brought her toward him again.
She couldn’t have predicted what Damon would feel like; how strong his arms would be as he lifted her up and sat her on his lap. How his back would flex as she scratched a trail across his shoulder blades. And how her legs would wrap around his waist so effortlessly.
His hands were eager and firm, and the cold rain droplets that fell from his wet hair and onto her skin made her shiver. He licked one droplet off as it traveled down her neck.
If this moment were a song on Damon’s playlist, it would start with a steady drumbeat and fingers gently strumming a guitar. “I’m ready,” she said.
“Not yet,” he said. He got on his knees and carefully lowered her onto the pillow. Her legs stayed parted for him as he made his way down her torso with his tongue. He nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, then blew a soft breath across her. Her knees tightened around his ears and he laughed. But then his tongue. Oh, God, his tongue. It flicked at her and teased her and lapped and circled and devoured.
He savored her, and as she dug her nails into his hair and let out a deep moan, she knew that she was taking him in, too. Her body tightened as he brought her to the edge she was so desperate to reach. “I’m...” she started to say.
And then a thick finger slid in and circled around as he sucked her bud into his mouth. She couldn’t help but show him how much she loved everything he was doing. She shuddered over and over again as pleasure rolled through her. Damon tightened his grip as he continued to make her come.
She could cry from how good her whole body felt. She’d had many partners, none of them meaningful, and now she was being shown what it was to be worshipped by someone who truly saw every part and accepted those pieces.
And the realization of that was...scary. Because what did any of this mean? And where would it go? But before she could ask, Damon had picked her up and rolled her on top of him. She helped him push down his boxers, and the way their bodies fit erased any questions she had.
Sam slid off him and he sat up on his elbows, watching as she pulled a condom out of her travel bag. She tore the wrapper open with her teeth and rolled it onto him. And then she was back on top and took him in her hand to guide him to her entrance. She sank down and closed her eyes from the pressure and the bliss of being filled by him.
Damon, Damon, Damon.
She couldn’t tell if she spoke his name aloud, or just to herself as a silent mantra as she moved with him. He sat up and pulled her closer against him until he tensed beneath her.
And then they sat there, tangled and holding on and not saying a word. Sam rested her head against his shoulder and heard the steady pulse of his heart as it slowed. He scratched along the length of her back, and she knew she could fall asleep there in his arms, surrounded by him, and not ever leave the spot where they were.
And they didn’t leave, not until there was a tentative knock at Sam’s door. Damon clumsily pulled the sheets around Sam, then tugged his boxers on just before Pearl turned the knob.
“Damon,” Pearl said, averting her eyes. “Your mom called. She’s been trying your cell and couldn’t reach you.”
