Heaven and Hell (22 page)

He slid close then pushed an arm under my
body, pulling me so into his side I was plastered partially to it
and partially on top of him.

I lifted my head just as the fingers of his
other hand tangled in the hair at my shoulder, gave it a gentle tug
and my eyes hit his to see his were on me and they weren’t serious,
they were deadly serious.

“Okay, baby, now that my cock is no longer
inside you and when it is, that is a place he’ll never be, I’ll say
this straight. You don’t get it straight, we work on it but I’ll
say it straight and maybe it’ll penetrate and you can focus on the
Kia you are, not the Kia he dragged down and made you be.”

Uh-oh.

I wasn’t sure I was big on where this was
heading.

“Sam –”

“Just let me finish, yeah?”

I didn’t want to say yeah so I didn’t.

But I nodded.

Sam didn’t delay.

“I am not him, Kia. Your dead husband is
dead. Before he was dead he was a dick. He was a moron. He was an
asshole. And now he’s gone. You’re in bed with me.
Me.
Whatever you had with him in your life and your bed, that’s as dead
as him. I’m here because I wanna be here. And in about ten minutes,
when we’re done talkin’ about that asshole and he’s gone again, I’m
gonna get you wet and hot for me and I’m gonna be in you because I
wanna be in you. And, trust me, I’m a man so I can say with a fair
amount of authority there are not many men who would not kill for
the chance of bein’ naked in a bed with you naked and pressed up
against him after he got the gift you just gave me. It’s just that
that man is now me and he’s gonna
be
me for a good long
while. Do you get me?”

“I… I think so,” I stammered, staring into
his serious eyes.

“Where was I unclear?” Sam asked and I
blinked.

“Uh… you were pretty clear,” I told him.

“So you don’t think you get me. You actually
get me.”

I kept staring.

And I got him which meant I had him.

I
had
him.

My heart leapt as that settled into my
soul.

“Yeah, Sam, I get you,” I whispered.

“You need to talk about him, dig him out so
you can release the shit he planted in you, we’ll talk, baby. I’ll
give that to you. Anytime. Except one. When we’re in bed, it’s you
and me. Don’t bring him here. Leave behind the shit he planted
because, Kia, honey, you’re beautiful, you have a fantastic fuckin’
body and when you let go, swear to Christ, you could make me come
just with the noises you make when you get excited.”

“Wow,” I whispered.

Sam grinned.

Then he whispered back, “So, let that shit
go, baby. The way you kissed me this morning and the way you were
before I broke through tonight, let that shit go. That isn’t you.
That’s what he planted in you and that motherfucker is dead. Bury
him.”

Bury him.

Bury Cooter.

I already did.

And yet, I didn’t.

And Cooter Clementine was very, very
dead.

It was time to bury all of him.

“Okay, Sam,” I agreed quietly.

His hand in my hair moved, taking my hair
with it, it glided along my jaw as his eyes roamed over my
face.

Then his fingers slid out of my hair, he
wrapped both arms around me and rolled, I went over him then to my
back and Sam was on top of me.

“Right,” he said softly, “now, you were in
the middle of usin’ your mouth on me when I interrupted to fuck
you. Let’s go back to that.”

Oh yeah. That sounded good because he felt
good and he tasted good.

I wanted to go back to that.

“Okay,” I breathed.

Sam grinned.

Then he kissed me, hard, wet and deep.

Then he rolled us so he was on his back and
I was on top.

Then we got back to what I was doing before
he interrupted to fuck me.

After awhile of further exploration and
discovery on my part, which I enjoyed a whole heckuva lot and,
considering I significantly widened my search area and was
relatively thorough, Sam enjoyed more, Sam broke out another
condom.

By the time Sam finally let me pass out, the
sun had started kissing the sky and he’d broken out two more.

So, I already had proof, when God was
handing out talent, he was generous with Sam in a lot of areas.

One of them was stamina.

Good to know.

Unclean

My eyes drifted open when I felt the covers
drifting down.

Then I felt Sam’s lips at the small of my
back, his hand light on my bottom and his lips drifted up while his
hand drifted down.

I was on my belly and I turned my head just
when his lips drifted over my shoulder and his hand pressed between
my legs.

I sucked in breath.

Sam’s eyes caught mine.

“Mouth,” he growled.

Without delay, half asleep but fully turned
on, I lifted up and gave him my mouth.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later I was grinding down on
his cock, Sam’s head was tipped back, mine tipped forward and our
lips were brushing, our heavy breaths mingling.

I moved to glide up but his arm around my
waist tightened, holding me down.

“Baby,” I breathed.

“You’re stayin’ an extra day in Italy, I’m
takin’ you to Parma to see the da Vinci,” Sam declared on a rumble
that I heard as well as felt… straight through me.

“Okay,” I agreed instantly and tried again
to push up but he kept me down.

“Then I’m goin’ to Crete with you.”

I froze; my half-mast eyes opened to full
and looked into his.

“Really?” I whispered, uncertain whether to
laugh or cry with glee.

“Really,” he whispered back.

I held his eyes and didn’t laugh or cry. I
just experienced the glorious feeling of my heart leaping with
joy.

Then I agreed, “Okay.”

He smiled.

I smiled back.

Then I tilted my head and kissed him,
hard.

His arm loosened and I moved.

* * * * *

I was standing in front of the full-length
oval mirror, swiping mascara on my lashes when I heard a key in the
lock.

My eyes went to the reflection of the door
in the mirror and I watched Sam walk in wearing another pair of
faded jeans that fit really well and another shirt, this one light
blue, and I knew it was made of linen because it was already
wrinkly.

We’d showered in my room and he’d gone to
his room to change, leaving me to do my gig in my room.

And I had, including blowing out my hair,
doing the Celeste perfume business and donning a sundress I bought
with Celeste. This one was shorter than the one Sam had seen,
clingier, a lot like a tank top but in dress form, lotus pink and
clearly it had Sam’s approval considering his eyes moved to it the
minute he cleared the door and didn’t leave it (or, I should say,
the ass vicinity of my back in it) as he walked across the room to
me.

I also had most of my makeup done.

This meant one of two things. One, Sam
primped like a girl, though when he made it to me, I registered he
smelled good so I figured he put on some cologne or aftershave, but
other than that it didn’t appear his toilette was extensive except
to shave. Or two, something held him up.

I watched him in the mirror as, eyes still
on my ass, he slid a hand along my ribcage, he fit the front of his
body to the back of mine and his eyes moved to my reflection in the
mirror (specifically, the breast vicinity).

Before I could figure out whether or not to
ask what took him so long, Sam, just like Sam, told me.

“Luci called,” he said, his gaze moving from
my breasts to my eyes.

“She okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a woman. She wants to
shop and bein’ a man that would indicate she’s not.”

I grinned then leaned forward a bit and went
back to swiping mascara while explaining, “She’s perfectly
fine.”

“Right,” he muttered and my eyes went from
my wand to him watching me and suddenly I felt funny so I
stopped.

“Are you saying she wants to shop with you
or with me?” I asked.

“She wants to shop with both of us.”

I blinked into the mirror because not only
was this voiced with dread; Sam was wearing a borderline look of
dread on his face.

Yes, the mighty, huge, hot guy, ex-commando
Sampson Cooper appeared to fear shopping.

“Are you…” I hesitated, studying him
closely, “
scared
of shopping?”

His eyes had drifted down to my breast area
again but at my question, they shot up to my face then both his
arms closed around me, he shoved his face in my neck and burst out
laughing.

Hmm. Maybe I read him wrong.

“Scared of shopping,” he muttered into my
neck then burst out laughing again, his arms going so tight, they
squeezed the breath out of me.

Yes, it would seem I read him wrong.

It appeared he didn’t fear it. He loathed
it.

So noted.

“Sam, I need to finish with my mascara,” I
told him, his head came up and he kept chuckling as his eyes caught
mine.

“So finish,” he invited, his voice still
vibrating with residual laughter.

“I can’t, you’re putting me off.”

His brows drew together. “How?”

“I don’t know, holding me, watching me,
being hot. That puts a girl off.”

His brows relaxed but his body started
shaking again, his mouth spreading in a huge grin through which he
asked, “Me being hot puts you off?”

“Not, say, when I’m sitting, drinking wine
next to you or, uh… other times. But when I have to concentrate on
something important and get it right and you’re watching then, uh…
yeah.”

His big grin became a bigger smile. “Mascara
is important?”

“Sam,” I snapped.

His eyes left mine in the mirror because his
head dipped and his mouth went to my ear and I watched as I
listened to him whisper, “I was watchin’ you go down on me and I
was a lot hotter then, baby. Now
that
was important and you
didn’t seem to have any problem concentrating.”

Heat rushed between my legs, hot and
wet.

Oh God.

“Sam,” I breathed.

“Fuck.” His nose brushed the skin below my
ear as his hand at the side of my ribs slid up to the side of my
breast. “You smell good.”

Apparently, Celeste’s perfume discovery
tactic worked.

Also noted.

“You feel good,” he went on, his thumb
extending and gliding under the swell of my breast.

I bit my lip and locked my shaking
knees.

Sam’s arm around my belly dipped low, his
fingers curled into the hem of my dress and his eyes came back to
me in the mirror.

“And you look good,” he murmured, his hand
ducking under my dress.

Oh God.

“Sam,” I repeated on a breath.

His hand slid into my panties.

“Can’t keep my fuckin’ hands off you.”

Oh
God.

“Sam –”

I stopped talking as I sucked in breath and
my head dropped back to his shoulder when his finger hit the
spot.

Oh man. That felt
nice.

His finger worked me, I moaned, turned my
head and pressed my forehead into his neck and his other hand
pulled down the top of the dress taking with it the cup of my bra
and his fingers started working my nipple there.

God.

That felt nicer than nice.

“Jesus, fuck, look at you.”

I pressed my forehead in his neck.

“Fuckin’, look at you.” His finger at the
spot slid down and filled me. “Beautiful.”

Both of my hands went to both of his, he
kept playing with my nipple and finger fucked me before going back
to my clit, pressing and rolling. I felt it with my hands and I
felt what he was doing and both felt freaking
great.

I whimpered.

His finger moved to slide back inside.

“Gotta have that again, baby,” he growled in
my ear and I twisted my neck and did my best to focus on his
eyes.

“Take it,” I whispered.

His hands moved away instantly, both going
to yank up my skirt. Mine went to yank down my panties. He lifted
me up, they fell from my ankles then I found myself on my hands and
knees in the unmade bed, Sam on his feet behind me, his hand
brushing my ass as he worked the fly of his jeans then he was
inside me.

He drove forward.

I reared back.

He did it again. So did I.

We’d had a lot of sex so this lasted
awhile.

A good long while.

A freaking fantastic one.

I came on a moan, my hands going out from
under me, sliding forward as my back arched into the bed, my ass to
the ceiling. I heard his growl then his grunts as he powered in
harder, faster then I listened to his groan when he came.

After, I remained in position, getting my
wits sorted, feeling him glide in and out while the fingertips of
one hand drifted over my behind and hip and the other hand stayed
curled around my waist and I liked that, he did it often, showing
me tenderness after he took me hard. Then he pulled out, hauled me
to my feet, back to him, yanked my dress down, then he held me
close to his frame with an arm around my ribs as he righted his
fly.

Then he turned me, lifted me, stepped in,
put a knee to the bed then we were down, me on my back, Sam on top
of me.

And it was then he kissed me, long, deep and
sweet.

I liked that too. A lot.

He lifted his head and I looked into his
satisfied, beautiful, dark brown eyes, liking that they were
satisfied but liking it more that I could give him that and I
informed him, “I think I dropped my mascara wand.”

He blinked.

Then he grinned.

Then he muttered, “Tragedy.”

I grinned back then went on, “And my mascara
tube.”

“I’ll notify the media.”

My grin turned to a smile but I said through
it, “Shut up.”