Page 7 of Takeover
Sam’s vision blurred and his balls drew up. Lightning shot through his veins.God, not yet!Michael hadn’t even fucked him.
“Let go.” Michael massaged Sam’s ring, coaxing him open. That only made his need worse.
“Can’t.” Sam spoke through gritted teeth. He held on, trying to stave off the building pressure in his balls and in his brain. His blood was lava.
“Sam.” Michael’s call was strong and real, like the finger he pressed into Sam’s ass. “Come for me.”
Michael’s command shattered Sam’s control and he shot his load, groaning long and hard into the comforter. Every nerve snapped and stung with each push and pull of Michael’s finger and the haze of light returned. It was almost too much and it might never be enough.
Slowly, slowly, the world returned to Sam, as did the delicious sensation of Michael still stroking fingers in and out of him. How many? Two? Three? Hard to tell. Each push burned and stretched as Michael twisted and explored. Every touch kept the edge of Sam’s vision blurry and his head somewhere above his body. He hadn’t thought, hadn’t expected Michael to keep finger-fucking him.
“Better?” There was a vast amount of amusement in Michael’s voice.
“Yeah.” His body hummed and everything—the heat in his veins, the coil in his core—was less urgent. His ass stung, but not painfully so. And Michael’s fingers opened him. “That feels so good.”
Michael picked up the tempo, plunging in a bit harder each time—three fingers, given the way they spread Sam wide. “You’re nice and relaxed now. There was no way I was going to fit inside you, as strung out as you were.”
Sam moaned when Michael withdrew his fingers. Foil crinkled and more lube met Sam’s ass, and then the hot head of Michael’s cock pushed into him.
That wondrous sense—the slight burn of entry and then the overwhelming feeling of being stretched and split and taken—engulfed Sam. How many years since he’d last felt this with something other than a dildo? He drove his hips back to meet Michael’s forward stroke. Shameless.
Michael grunted and stilled; then the binding on Sam’s wrists loosened then fell away. Sam gasped at the sudden freedom, and drew his arms under him. They ached, but they also gave him the ability to press back harder on Michael’s cock, take more of him in. “I want all of you.”
“Fuck.” Michael pulled Sam up and rocked forward, thrusting in farther and hitting Sam’s prostate.
Sam shuddered in Michael’s arms, hardly believing the sparks of need coming alive in his veins. He hadn’t managed to come twice in a night since he’d been a horny teenager, and yet his cock rose. He met each of Michael’s strokes, taking more inside each time.
When Michael’s thighs and balls met Sam’s ass, it was like being hit all over again. Only this time Michael filled him, claimed him, and stroked Sam’s sweetest spot.
The burn from the slapping swept over Sam and his cock tightened. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”
Michael’s breath warmed Sam’s neck and he obliged, plowed into Sam with long, powerful thrusts. Everything fell away. All that remained was Michael, his strong arms, hard body, and his thick cock deep inside Sam, ramming him where he most wanted to be touched over and over again. Sam opened his mouth, but only a thin cry escaped.
Fire didn’t burn through him this time, it was ice cracking in his veins, wrapping his core with pain and pleasure and silence. Michael closed a hand around Sam’s cock and pulled. “Stay with me.” Hot breath on Sam’s ear. “I want you with me.”
There wasn’t anywhere else Sam could be. His vision clouded as Michael’s thrust became more erratic and the pumping of Sam’s cock more frantic. He’d finally undone Michael, this unflappable stranger. That was enough to push Sam over the edge again and he came, every nerve firing at once. Michael slammed into him and his guttural moan mirrored Sam’s. They hung there, suspended in pleasure, one being with two hearts.
Then the world slipped back between them. Michael loosened his grip and pulled out of Sam.
There were no words said. Sam didn’t trust himself to speak. Everything he wanted to say sounded foolish. Or desperate.Stay the night. Don’t leave. Give me your phone number. Where can I find you again? I need you.
The best night of his life would also be the worst. Sam remained in Michael’s arms and soaked up what little he could of the man’s scent. He kissed Michael’s arm, trying to etch the taste and texture of Michael’s skin into his mind. He knew what he wanted, what he couldn’t have, what he denied himself because of his pride. He’d risen far, but only by wearing a mask and running from place to place, seeking another company to save or sell. Yet here of all places, for one glorious moment, he’d been wholly himself. Complete.
All thanks to a stranger in khaki shorts and a parrot shirt. Sam found something to say at last. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” Michael kissed his neck. “You needed that, I think.”
“Yes.” More than even Sam had realized.
He didn’t know how long they sat there on the bed, holding and being held. Eventually, inevitably, Michael stirred against him.
Time to say good-bye.
Sam didn’t protest when Michael let him go—what would be the point? He pushed down the hollow feeling in his chest when they both stood. It was just sex after all. A fling. A single night where he could finally be the man he truly was. Sam’s heart tightened as if held by a fist.
Michael wrapped the used condom in some tissues and tossed it into the trash. Sam stared at the can until warm fingers lifted his chin and he found himself looking into Michael’s gold-flecked eyes. Somewhere along the line, Michael had lost his shirt and taken off his glasses. He looked older and wiser without the frames blocking his face.
“Are you going to be okay?”
