Chapter 8: The First Night

He laid me down on his bed in the dark and stood over me, breathing hard, with his hands open at his sides.

"Tell me what you want," Samson said.

"I want you to stop being careful."

"I'm not being careful."

"You haven't touched me in a full minute."

"I'm looking."

I sat up on my elbows and pulled his sweatshirt over my head.

I had nothing on under it.

I heard him take a breath that did not finish.

"Daphne."

"Look all you want," I said. "Then come here."

He came down over me, and the bed dipped under his weight.

He kissed me until my head swam, and then he kissed his way down, over my throat, my collarbone, my breasts, slow and thorough.

He took one nipple in his mouth and held the other between his fingers, and when I arched he pressed me back down with a flat palm on my stomach.

"Stay," he said. "Let me."

I stayed.

He went lower.

He kissed my hip, the inside of my thigh, the place just above the elastic of my underwear, and I made a sound I had not made in years.

"Samson, please."

"Say what you want."

"Your mouth."

"Where?"

"On my pussy."

He pulled my underwear down my legs and threw it on the floor.

Then he put his hands under my knees, opened me, and put his mouth on me, and every thought I had went white.

He licked me slowly at first, long strokes from my entrance to my clit, and then he closed his lips around it and sucked.

I grabbed the headboard.

"Oh God."

He hummed against me and did it again.

I was already close.

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