Chapter 16: Second Night

He knocked at seven exactly, and I opened the door before his hand came down.

He had showered, and his hair was damp, and he had a paper bag under one arm with a loaf of bread in it.

"You told me to come," Sam said.

"I told you what I want when you got here."

"Then say it."

I shut the door behind him and turned the lock.

"I want you to stop being careful with me."

He set the bread on the hall table.

"I've been careful for two weeks," he said. "It's been killing me."

"I know."

"Willa."

"Take your shirt off."

He did, one handed, dragging it up over his head and dropping it on the floor.

I put my palms on his chest, over the scars, and pushed him back against the front door.

He let me.

I kissed him slowly, then not slowly, his mouth hot and tasting of coffee, and he groaned into me.

"Number eight," I said against his lips. "You're allowed to ask for what you want."

"I want you on your knees."

"Good," I said. "So do I."

I went down on the hall rug and undid his belt.

He put his hand in my hair and didn't pull.

I took his cock out, hard and heavy against my palm, and licked the head, and he swore at the ceiling.

"Jesus. Willa."

I took him into my mouth, as far as I could, and stroked what I couldn't reach with my fist.

He made a rough sound and his hips jerked, and I looked up and watched him look down at me.

"Look at you," he said. "Christ. Your mouth."

I sucked him harder, until his head fell back against the door and his hand tightened in my hair.

"Stop," he said. "Stop, or I won't last."

I stopped and licked my lips.

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