This doesn’t sound like the full truth, and Sam must see my suspicion.
“It’s in the past, Percy,” he says. And even though I know it’s not, at least not for me, when he pulls my hair off my neck and sets a kiss just above my collarbone, I tilt my chin back and put my hand in his hair, holding him against me.
“Sam, stop,” I manage to say after several seconds, and he does, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I’m not good enough for you,” I tell him. “I don’t deserve you. Or your friendship. And especially not anything more than friendship.” I’m about to go on, but he puts two fingers over my mouth and looks at me with wide eyes.
“Don’t do this, Percy. Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads. “I want this.” He’s breathing rapidly, his forehead creased in question. “Don’t you want this, too?”
“More than anything,” I tell him, and one corner of his mouth ticks up. He brings my hands up to his lips and kisses each, not taking his eyes off mine.
“Then let me have you,” he says. And I don’t know if he means right now or for good, but as soon as the yes leaves my mouth, he’s kissing me.
* * *
THE KISS IS fierce and clumsy, and when our teeth knock together, we both laugh.
“Fuck, Percy. I want you so much,” he says, biting at my bottom lip. The sharpness sends a shudder through me, and he moves his mouth down, nipping at my collarbone along the way.
“I used to lie awake at night thinking about these freckles,” he murmurs, kissing the constellation of brown dots on my chest. I don’t notice him unhooking my bra, but when he pushes the straps off my shoulders, the whole thing falls away. He brings his hands to my breasts, moving the nipples between his thumbs and fingers, and when they tighten at his touch, he leans down, circling his tongue around one, then sucking it into his mouth, and pinching hard on the other. My hands fly to his shoulders to steady myself. When his name moves across my lips, he kisses me wetly before moving his mouth back down to my breasts.
I reach for the fly of his jeans and fumble with the button, distracted by what his tongue and his teeth are doing and the needy pulses between my legs. I conquer the button, then the zipper, and work the jeans past his hips. I feel his hardness through his briefs and he inhales sharply. The sound sets off something within me—an old need to push Sam, to make him come undone, to make him make more noises like the one he just made. It’s fireworks of lust and longing and humid summer nights. I run my nails up his back and then bring his face to mine.
“Just so we’re clear,” I tell him, unblinking, “I want this. I want you. You can have me, but I want to have you, too.” When I kiss him, it’s with every last drop of every bit of myself that I have. I move my hand down his chest, his stomach, slipping it inside the waistband of his underwear, wrapping my hand around him, moving it over his length. He looks down and watches for a second, then back to me with a smile, pulling my hand away and leaning me back on the carpet.
“Remember the first time you did that?” he asks, smiling down at me and taking his jeans off.
“I was so nervous,” I say. “I thought I was going to hurt you.” He curls his fingers over the top of the sweatpants and pulls them down my legs, leaving them around my ankles.
“You got the hang of it,” he says, kneeling between my legs. “We had quite a bit of practice,” he says, looking up at me with a slanted grin.
“We did,” I say, smiling back.
“But you didn’t let me practice this.” He bends and kisses me over my underwear.
“I was too self-conscious,” I breathe.
“And what about now?” he asks, moving my underwear to the side. My legs twitch. “Are you still too self-conscious?”
“No,” I gasp, and he smiles up at me, but his eyes are stormy with hunger.
“Good.” He hooks his fingers around the edge of my panties and pulls them down around my ankles, then pins my wrists by my hips so I can’t move my arms. “Because I have a lot of time to make up for.” He buries his tongue inside me, then brings it up over my clit, flicking and swirling and sucking, telling me how many times he’s thought of this, how good I taste. I cry out, and he sucks harder. I try to spread my legs, but my ankles are restrained by the fabric around them.
“You like that?” he asks softly, and I lift my hips closer to his mouth in response. He lets go of my wrists, gets rid of the clothes around my ankles, and grabs the flesh of my ass, holding me up to his mouth, while my fingers grab at his hair. He moves his tongue inside me again, his moan vibrating through me, his fingers tracing lightly where I need them. I squeeze my thighs around him, and he bites my inner thigh while he reaches up to my nipple, squeezing and pinching. His mouth follows, his tongue hot on my breast, while his fingers work the swollen flesh between my legs. I whisper his name over and over, and he presses his finger inside me. My body is hot and damp with sweat, and I ask for more. He looks up at me, his eyes burning as he adds another finger and another, until I’m full of him. My legs start shaking and he moves down my body, sucking on me, hard and long, and then he grazes his teeth against me, and I scream and fall into tiny little jagged pieces.