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He groans again, falling back onto his pillow and closing his eyes. I may be the one in the submissive position, but he is at my complete mercy and I relish every moment of it.

I slowly lean forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the tip of him. That grabs his attention and his eyes fly back open and he sits until he's leaning back on his elbows. His stare is wide, and I'm certain he holds his breath.

I swipe my tongue over him, tracing every line and contour, until I'm licking him from base to tip.

I pull back the slightest bit, suddenly nervous. But my fears center around one concern—that I may be no good at this.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing," I breathe shakily.

Sam sits up, taking my face in his hand, bringing his down so that we are eye to eye—on equal footing.

"Anything you do, Ror, will be the most amazing experience of my entire fucking life." His voice is hoarse but his tone intent, and I don't doubt him for a moment.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and Sam's eyes close again, as if the sight is too much to bear, and it emboldens me even more.

I don't lick him this time, instead, I open my mouth wide and take him in slowly.

Sam groans again, falling back onto his elbows and watching me carefully, as if the sight is just as erotic as the sensation. I think about seeing him between my legs with his mouth on me, and I feel another rush of heat.

He's too big to take in all the way, but I take him in as far as I can, until I nearly gag, and then suck hard as I pull back. I look between what I'm doing and his face, and it tells me everything I need to know. I may not be any good at this, but Sam seems to be enjoying it either way, and I increase my pace, and eventually add my tongue with each motion.

I listen to his breathing grow faster and heavier, and feel my own desire grow to a fever pitch.

Suddenly Sam is half sitting up, his hand on my waist.

I look up at him, worried I'd done something wrong. After all, it's only my first time doing this and he wasn't exactly giving me any guidance.

"
No
, don't stop," he says quickly, and I resume what I was doing, relieved. I hadn't wanted to stop at all, I love having him in my mouth. I can feel the sensation mirrored in other places, and it's an incredible turn-on.

Then I feel his fingers softly brush my hip, until he's pulling the waistline of my pants, tugging my behind back towards him, but I do as he's said and don't stop.

"Just bring that sweet little ass over here," he murmurs.

Once he has me where he wants me, he starts peeling down my yoga pants, sliding his fingers into my panties as he pulls them down, torturously slowly, watching me for any sign I might ask him to stop.

I may be crazy, but hell if I'm
that
crazy.

I concentrate my wanton mind on my enjoyment of the task in front of me, and take him even deeper into the back of my throat, focusing on trying to control my gag reflex.

I hear Sam's breath hitch, and he stills for a moment, before he finishes undressing me in double time. It's more than obvious I've no intention of asking him to stop, and I even lift my ankles to help him get everything off.

He places soft kisses on my hip and my own breath catches. He's so close to where I want him most.

God
.

He pauses again.

I don't.

"Fuck, Ror," he breathes against my thigh. "I need to see if you taste as sweet as I remember." His words are so low he may have been mumbling them to himself.

His kisses grow hungrier as they make their way up my thighs. The anticipation sends a shiver of torturous excitement rolling through me, and I lose my rhythm, but Sam doesn't seem to care.

And then his mouth is on me, and I whimper around him.

"Fuuuuuck," he groans against me, the vibrations only adding to the sensation of his lips, his tongue.

I'm so caught up in the sensations and sexy-as-hell sounds coming from behind, that I'm only vaguely aware of the intimacy of our position. Of our mouths on each other's most private places. How exposed and vulnerable I am to him right now. There's something about it that makes this whole thing even hotter. And it's surprising to me. With my history. Vulnerability is usually something I avoid like the plague.

But that's the power of trust, I suppose. I trust Sam implicitly. And it's what's allowing me to be so uninhibited right now, so free. I moan around him again, and he pulls his mouth from me suddenly.  

He falls from my mouth when he sits up under me, and before I can even turn to ask him what's going on, he's climbing over me and pressing hard kisses up my spine, to my shoulder and neck.

"You are unbelievable," he growls into my ear, before sucking gently on the sensitive skin of my throat, licking a pattern that drives me crazy. "But I won't last another second with you humming around my dick like that."

I don't know why his words make me even hotter, but they do.

"That's okay," I whisper, my head falling sideways to give him more neck to suck. After all, I wanted to taste him, and I was prepared for him to finish.

He returns his mouth to my ear, tonguing a ring around the outer lobe. I don't move, I just sit there on my hands and knees panting, relishing the feel of the large, hard planes of his body bracing mine, caging me in. I feel small, vulnerable, desired, and absolutely cherished.

"I need-" Sam inhales sharply, cutting off his own words, and then begins again. "I
want
inside you, baby," he whispers. It's as if his words have fingers of their own, and they stroke me in all the right places. Who ever knew I liked dirty talk? "Say
no
and we can do what we were just doing," he promises, "or we could stop."

"No," I say, frantic at the thought of stopping now.

Sam stills immediately.

"No, not
no
…
No,
I don't want to stop," I elaborate. I will die if he stops. I know it.

Sam's hand finds the outside of my thigh, and slides upward until he reaches my hip, increasing the pressure, his thumb stroking my backside, his mouth returning to my ear.

"I want you so fucking much, Ror. It's feels like it's been so much longer than it has." His voice is almost sad, but it's barely discernible through it's lust, and when his hand continues around and down between my thighs, my mind shoots back to it's only current track. "Say—"

"
Yes
." I don't know how I know it's what he's going to ask me to say, but I do, and it's all I can think to say anyway. That and…

"
Please, Sam."

"Fuck," he growls softly, and then his fingers double their efforts until my eyes roll back and he has me moaning again. Sam traces me with himself, before he positions to take me.

My body puts up no resistance when he enters me despite his impressive size. But he's had me more than ready for a while now, and I want him inside me so badly I can think of nothing else.

"Yes," I say again, but it's more moan than word, and as Sam fills me, his entire body wraps around me. I push back against him, desperate for as many square inches of his hot skin against mine as physically possible. And he seems happy to accommodate me, holding his weight slightly off of me with one hand as the other winds around my middle, holding me flush against him.

I've never had sex this way before. Robin had always seemed intent on holding me down on my back, even in his car. I'd have thought that position would have been more intimate. It sure was the other times I'd been with Sam like that.

But there's something about having him over me, behind me like this. About me getting on my hands and knees for him. It's not just the vulnerability, the trust I'm giving to him. It's
him
, too. The way he cherishes that trust. The way he gives me these extra chances to stop it. The way he asks out loud—how he demands an affirmative answer. The way he never presumes anything. I mean he didn't even get into bed with me at first for God's sake, I
know
it.

And something tells me it's not just because of my history. Perhaps he's extra cautious with me, but I don't doubt for a second that this is just who he is. Respectful, if not always gentle.

And thank God for that. He does start out slowly, but not softly. He moves deep into me with long drives, and stays as deep as he can for long moments before repeating the motion all over again. His rhythm has me panting for breath in minutes.

Sam brushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck to his mouth. He takes full advantage, kissing and sucking and whispering to me about how incredible I feel, taste, sound, and the wicked things he wants to do to me—that he's already doing to me.

I react in a gasp or a moan every time he whispers something new, and then he reacts in response. It isn't long before he's thrusting hard and fast, and I just keep begging him for
more
, and telling him
yes
.

His hand slips down until he's touching the place where he moves inside me, and vaguely I think I'm chanting
please
, and
Sam
.

"Yes, baby. Let me feel you."

I do.

I explode around him, him deep inside me with his hand pressed to me, his body cloaking me with the heat of our lovemaking.

"Oh
God
,
Sam!"
I cry out over and over as my elbows give out, and he holds me up with one arm, still driving into me, and my pleasure rolls on and on around him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants. "
Fuck, Ror,
" and his rhythm speeds up even more before it becomes erratic, and then he stills, as deep as he can get, and I feel him shoot off inside me.

Sam lets me slide face-first down onto the mattress, and comes down with me, but catches most of his own weight on his other hand. He starts pressing soft, breathy kisses between my shoulder blades, and I revel in the feel of his stubble against my over-sensitized skin. He rolls off of me and takes my hand to pull me toward him until we're lying on our backs side by side, still catching our breath.

That was the most intense experience of my life. I didn't think it could get much better than the first time we were together, or the couple of times after that. But each time I feel even less self conscious, and Sam has this insane way of making me forget everything other than my need for him, and
God
, the way he delivers... every girl should know how this feels. Though the thought of him ever being with another girl sends nausea churning in my gut.

I shake my head to rid it of these covetous thoughts. They have no place here. We are not together, we are friends. Friends who just had the most incredibly intense sex imaginable. Is this what being
friends with benefits
is? Because that sure was one hell of a benefit.

I stretch my overworked muscles and sigh in satisfaction. Sam rolls onto his side until he's gazing down at me. His fingers creep up my side, and lightly stroke my stomach, tracing around my navel.

"You're so incredibly beautiful," he whispers, and I watch his gaze lazily sweep over my body.

I take in his muscled form, the light sheen of sweat that speaks of the exertion that brought me to such ecstasy. I'll live my life knowing there will never be anyone else for me, even if I can't have him for more than an afternoon. He doesn't know the power he has. And I have to keep it that way, otherwise my plan will all be for nothing. If he knows how I feel, he will push, and I will cave. And then he will be right back in the line of fire, risking his future, freedom, and life for the crime of caring for me.

"So are you," I tell him honestly, and he smirks.

"Guys aren't beautiful," he replies.

I caress his stubbled jaw, trace the outline of the perfect structure of his cheekbones with the pad of my thumb, and he turns into my palm. "This one is," I breathe.

Sam presses a soft kiss to the skin of my palm, and I push my hand into his hair, brushing through his disheveled locks until I'm playing with the short hair at his nape, running my fingers over the soft skin on the back of his neck.

"You better stop that unless you're ready for round two," he warns playfully.

My gaze shoots to his, and I realize he meant it as a threat, not the promise I'd heard. Sam chuckles when he registers my interest in what I'd obviously thought was a proposition, and he shakes his head in faux reprimand.

We watch each other for several long moments. I take in every plane and contour of his perfect face, not sure if and when I'll have it so close to mine again. He is positively riveting and I wish with everything I have that I could read his mind right now.

Sam leans over me, brushing the hair from my forehead, his knuckles lingering softly over my cheek. "You know this isn't why I brought you here, right? I didn't plan that. It wasn't—"

"I know, Sam," I cut him off. How he can possibly worry that I might think he plotted to get me into bed—well, like
this
anyway—I can't imagine. I know him better than that. He
knows
I know him better than that.