Tied to Sam Ch. 02

'It's all looking so empty and depressing now everyone's moved out.'

I stand in front of Sam, reach out to push his hair off his forehead. He watches me.

'Is Mary really ok?' I fret.

'Yeah.' He takes the switch in conversation in his stride. 'The doctors seem really pleased with how she's recovered. And she's miles better just for being back at the home, you know? She loves that view of the gardens.'

He leans back on his hands, looking up at me with his gentle blue eyes.

'You'll be able to see for yourself, Cora, when we go down to see her,' he adds, making to reassure me. 'And didn't you talk to your mum after I took her down there at the weekend?'

'I did,' I sigh, tapping his knees for him to close them together so I can sit on his lap. He shuffles further back on the bed and lets me climb onto him, his eyes following my movements. 'But I want to hear it from you, Sam. The truth.'

'That's all we can say for certain. She's ok for now. But - you know -,' he shrugs, 'we just have to take every day as it comes.'

'I suppose so.'

'You'll feel better when you see her, Cora,' he offers. 'She's almost back to her old self. Her and your mum had a right old laugh together. It was like old times in your flat after church, remember?'

'I do.' I smile, thinking back to when we were growing up together.

Our mums had formed an unlikely friendship; my mum the fierce, old-fashioned Jamaican matriarch and Sam's mum the older, gentler, Catholic Irish exile. Both left stranded, high and dry, in a south London council block by their flighty husbands, with kids they could barely afford to feed and clothe properly. But we'd come to share most Sunday afternoons together over cups of tea and cake.

'What do you and my mum talk about on the drive down to see Mary anyway?' I suddenly ask, remembering Sam's discomfort over dinner.

'She does most of the talking, Cora,' he replies, flashing me a look that makes me laugh.

'I'm sure she does. But is she better with you now? I mean, she's not still threatening you with fire and brimstone for touching me, is she?'

He tips his chin.

'I think me and Cynthia have reached an accommodation about that.'

'An "accommodation"? What does that mean, exactly?' I splutter. 'And "Cynthia"? She doesn't let you call her that, does she?'

'She does, actually. On a good day, anyway.'

Sam's doing his best to look mild, but I can tell he's bursting with the effort of it. I know my mouth has fallen open in shock; it takes me some time to pull myself together.

'But Sam,' I finally manage, 'you've always said how scary she is to you.'

'She is. Was. But, Cora, I'm not fifteen and stupid anymore. And I think she knows you're not just a booty call to me.'

I nearly choke on that.

'I seriously doubt she even knows what 'booty call' means,' I gasp, but he just smiles at me.

'And, Cora - she's been really nice to me since mum's been ill again,' he continues.

I study his face, thinking again about how he's only got Mary; how young he is to have a mum who's in such poor health; how close he might be to losing her altogether. I want to hug him hard and tight; to shield him from the inevitable. It comes into focus then - how long Sam's known my mum, how she's watched him grow up too.

'I should talk to her about us.'

'I think she'd like that.'

'It's just I've never had that sort of relationship with her. Not like Alice. She tells her everything.'

'I know. But she just wants to know you're happy, Cora. If you are? Happy, I mean.'

'Yes, Sam, I'm happy. I'm very happy with you. I don't know if I needed proof of that, exactly, but these last weeks have been totally bloody miserable without you.'

'I know. Same for me.'

'It's weird. I almost feel like I need to get to know you again. Even your fresh haircut, and - this is a new shirt, isn't it? I keep looking at you to check it's you. It's silly.'

He sits up and hugs me, like he used to, when we were just friends. Except I didn't sit on his lap like this when we were just friends, obviously. Huh.

'It's just me, Cora. Same old Sam. I think you're the one who's changed the most this year.'

I'm content to be held, to breathe in his smell and feel the muscles in his back.

'You're not "just the same old Sam". But this is definitely a new shirt isn't it?'

'Mmhmm. Your mum gave it me. She saw it when she was sorting stuff for the clothing swap at your church and thought it would be my size.'

'Did she indeed?'

I sit back to better see Sam's face. A tiny bit smug. Things between them have definitely shifted and realigned.

'I guess talking with her won't be as hard as I imagine.'

Sam leans back on his hands again.

'That'd be good. Talk to her, Cora. We can't really keep sneaking around. Not with you back in London full-time. And I don't want to, either.'

'I know. It's time to be a bit more grown-up about it. Especially if she's warming up to you.'

'Maybe I'm challenging her view that all white men are unreliable, unfaithful bastards?'

'Maybe!'

Sam's phone buzzes and while he reaches for it, I get up to go to the bathroom, seeing it's Mary who's texting him from her iPad. His brother Michael bought it for her, and we'd shown her how to use it last summer.

When I return, he's putting his phone back onto the bedside table.

'Everything ok?'

'Yeah, she's fine. Just wanting to know how you are.'

I look down at him sitting there, leaning back on his hands, his face so open and kind. His eyes hold mine, and I'm expecting him to say something, but he seems to hesitate.

'Sam?'

'Kiss me back?'

I laugh. It's our shorthand, ever since Sam first declared his real feelings for me. I'm reaching for the zip on my dress when he shakes his head.

'No, let's take it slowly, C. Get a bit sweaty in our clothes first?'

There it is - that shift from my best friend Sam to the sexy man he is inside. It makes me catch my breath and hold onto it every time he makes the shift. I settle back on his lap and laugh as he clutches me to his chest and flops backwards onto the bed, rolling me until we're both on our sides looking at each other. He reaches an arm down over my hips to pull me closer, slipping a thigh in-between my legs until we're snug against each other.

We kiss as the last remaining light fades from the day and the ugly orange of the streetlights outside fires up. And we take it slowly, feeling and tasting each other with slow strokes, pressed up against each other's bodies like teenagers. He gradually tugs the zip of my dress down to my waist, slipping his hands underneath to alternately rub my skin and press me closer. After an especially languorous lick of his neck, I push at his chest, coaxing him to lie on his back. I want his shirt off; work the buttons until it's open all the way down the front, unable to resist feathering my hands over his stomach to tickle him. He snorts, snatching at my hands and taking hold of them tightly to make me stop.

'That's unfair,' he protests.

'You didn't object this afternoon?'

His hands press mine harder.

'That was really intense.'

He looks like he might be about to say something else, but I kiss him instead, he's looking so sweet, and a little bit drunk. We peel some more clothing away. I watch Sam look down at where we touch, at the contrast between his white and my brown skin in the half-light of the room. Spiralling his hand over us both. I turn my head.

'Sam, the curtains are open.'

'No-one can see in. The light's off.'

'Hmm.'

My skin breaks out in a rash of goose bumps as he pushes my bra up and licks at my breasts, underneath, around the sides, underneath again; then rubs his cheek across each nipple, looking up at me with such a wicked gleam in his eyes anticipation burns up and down my spine.

'I'm going to get you back for it.'

'What?' I'm confused, my brain starting to overload with what Sam's doing to me.

My nipples are on fire, deliciously sore from his stubble.

'For earlier. You had no right to do that to me without any warning.'

I'd protest but can't find the words. I realise he's got me trapped; his hands holding me firm and still around my ribs, his thigh tight between my legs, moving against me in a determined, deliberate, irresistible rhythm. It flutters and shudders through me, the friction between us, through our clothes. I want more.

'What?' Sam raises his head, leaving my breast to cool.

'I want to feel you,' I whisper, bumping my hips.

But he gives me another wicked smile and shakes his head, before dropping his mouth down to torture my breast again. He scrapes and licks and bites and kisses until I'm panting and wriggling under him.

'Sam.'

He lifts his head and gives me a long, deep kiss that makes me feel like we're falling and falling; twisting and falling. I pull my arms harder around his back and jam my body to his, greedy to feel every inch of my skin against his; his warm chest pressing down on my sore nipples. It's so good.

So good.

I feel it curling up in my belly; screwing tight around my heart. A few more rotations over Sam's thigh is all it takes. When it slips into place, I moan so hard into Sam's mouth it vibrates on our lips. I clutch onto him, to his solidity, his weight.

'I love you, Cora Jane Morgan,' he imprints the words into my neck, as if he's afraid they'll vanish.

When I open my eyes, he's still buried in the crook of my neck.

We stay still for a while.

I listen to the rumble of traffic noise, a dog yapping and barking, a gate slamming shut. The sounds of this street. This house.

'I love you, Sam.'

He shifts, pulling us onto our sides again. Runs a thumb over my lips, around and under my ear, then back again.

'I still can't believe you're here with me like this. I imagined it for so many years sometimes I think it's only in my imagination and not real at all.'

'Sam,' I admonish him.

He smiles.

I smile back.

'I'm the luckiest man alive.'

'Even when I was in a blind panic because my period was a few days late?'

'Even then.'

'What if -,'

'We'd have worked something out.' He props his head up on his hand. 'I'm not going anywhere, Cora.'

'But -,'

'It doesn't scare me, Cora.'

I inhale sharply.

'It scared the shit out of me, Sam. But only because it would've been too soon. I want to work, and pay off my student debt, and -,'

'I know.'

Huh.

He's still smiling at me. I kiss the end of his nose, then push his shoulder until he's flat on his back. I shrug out of my dress, kneeling over his thighs. He tucks his arms under his head to watch, taking it in as I pull my dress over my head, unhook my bra and discard it on the bed beside us.

'I'm lucky you found a way to tell me how you felt, Sam. Where would we be if you hadn't?'

I lean over him, spreading his shirt wide to run my hands over his chest. It forces a long exhalation of air out of his nose and throat.

'I love how you touch me, Cora.'

I bend to kiss him. I don't know what's more of a turn on - the way he opens up to me so trustingly or that his softened eyes never leave mine. My heart's already going into overdrive, thinking about what we've just said to each other. I sit back up to tug at his jeans and boxers. He lifts his hips so I can pull them down, shimmying backwards until I come to the edge of the bed.

'You still have your shoes on!' I tut.

I pull at them too, dumping them on the floor along with his socks, and all the other clothes I've dragged off him. He sits up, shucks off his shirt and hands it to me; waits until I've let it drop to the floor before reaching for me. I start to get back on the bed when he dips a finger into the top of my knickers.

'Are you keeping these on?' one eyebrow raised.

He dips more fingers under the cotton. I quiver. I feel as nervous now as the first time. Always. Perhaps it's just the anticipation, but I can never quite shake off the feeling of trepidation. I shuffle closer, willing him to reveal me; find me.

'Come here,' he urges me closer still, until he wraps an arm around my waist and yanks me back onto the bed with him.

We bounce a bit and I giggle until he presses a finger to my lips, crooking it against my teeth. I pull on it, open my mouth to suck it inside; nearly bite it when I feel his other hand sliding between my legs. I move my hips, wanting and dreading his touch, quivering at the feel of him slowly sliding his palm along me. Low noises escape from the back of his throat as he feels how slick I am. His fingers play along the edges of my knickers, threatening entry then retreating, pressing and curling into me, establishing a rhythm then interrupting it, raising and lowering the tempo, the pressure. I understand now he really meant what he'd said about taking it slowly. Keeping his word, like the good man he is.

I reach for him, enjoying how he twitches at my first touch as I wrap my hand around him and gently hold him. His breath fans out over me and when I tip my head, I see that soft, drunken look in his eyes. I smile, stroking my hand until I can circle my palm over him where he's hottest and stickiest, watching him press his eyelids together, his mouth opening a little. I'm as gentle and slow with him as he's being with me. So slow.

It's impossible to distinguish between my own pulse and his throbbing in my hand. Maybe our heartbeats have aligned.

'Tell me how this feels,' I whisper into his ear.

His eyes open wide.

'Too good, Cora,' and he peels my hand away, pushing his fingers through mine, lifting my arm high over my head, shifting us both until I'm lying on my back, his chest raised above me.

I stretch out, arching my back and pointing my toes, raising my other arm above my head to find Sam's hand. We smile at our touch. He likes this - the idea of me being a little bit restrained. He's still shy about it. Still goes red at any mention of how he used to tie me to him when we were small kids, but there are times when we play with the idea now we're all grown up.

He hovers over me, his chest rising and falling, his hand squeezing my wrists together. His eyes are deep and dark as he looks down at me. I lift my head, willing him to kiss me. Dizzy when he does.

'Sam,' I whisper, curling into him.

Missing him when he releases my hands from his grip, rolling down to rest both of his hands on my hips. Trembling as his lips brush against my belly and his tongue flicks over my hip bones.

'This place,' he's almost humming, raising his eyes to mine, then lowering them to concentrate on my body, his touch so delicate it sends my spirit soaring, light and high.

He taps his fingers against me to coax my hips higher, hooking my knickers down my legs until he can drop them to the floor, pushing my legs wide. My heart lurches and clatters around my chest. I fling out an arm towards him, which he grabs as if expecting it.

'Ssshh, Cora. Let me,' he calms me, his eyes blue through his lashes as he dips his head and kisses me. Such a simple, loving act. It sends tremors through both of us and I grip his hand too tightly, but I can't help it. The warmth from his tongue spills into my body, a bubbling, saturating flood that fills and lifts me. High, so high. His hand tethering me to earth.

'Cora. God, Cora.'

He says it softly. And really close. I open my eyes with a jolt to find his face just inches from mine, his eyes shiny, my scent on his mouth. I snatch at him, breathing hard, needing his weight. He settles his body down onto me, covering me, hands brushing at my hair.

'How long -?'

He tips his head to one side.

'Not long,' his lips moving over mine, very tenderly.

I draw in a deep breath. Lick my lips. Then his. Memories of how nervous we were to try this the first time.

'I love you, Sam.'

Quiet sounds vibrate from his chest and into my mouth. We kiss, his fingers pulling through my hair, his lips pulling on mine. What does he see in my eyes? I love that his are so clear; that I can see his pupils grow big, the gradations of blue in his irises. But mine - they are so dark, can he tell the difference between iris and pupil, between love and surrender?

He shifts his weight, moving up against me. We both suck in air. It feels amazing for us to be touching like this. More intimate than I could have imagined. I turn my head to look down at us, at his hips rotating slowly over mine, then back up to find his eyes. Yes, it's just as good for him. Better, probably. He's never touched me this way - bare; naked.

'Sam, this is -,'

I watch him fight to find focus. Watch his Adam's Apple bob in his throat.

'I know,' his voice cracks, then stabilises. 'I'm not going to last long, Cora. It feels -,' he stops; breathing. 'It's amazing to feel you like this.'

I lift myself to him, pushing a hand between us to find him. To help him find me. The intensity of it is almost too much. The pressure. The invasion. His heat and strength filling me, slowly but without hesitation.

The way he holds himself rigid tells me he needs me to stay completely still. I stroke the side of his face, sensing the tension as he struggles for control, fighting my own impulse to contract around him. As I feel him relax a little, I smooth my hands down his back, stopping short of pressing them to his hips, suddenly aware of how hot he is, how he's breaking out in a sweat.

'I don't think I can move,' he says, sounding frustrated and bemused.

'But I thought we were taking it slowly, Sam?'

I feel his laugh shoot through his chest and he relaxes some more. Then I think he surprises both of us by snapping his hips hard and really deep into me. I stare into his face as he holds himself very still again, feeling him throbbing and pulsing and just - being inside me. It's more intense than ever, tiny tremors running between us like electrical impulses.

'I can really feel you Sam,' I fight to get the words out.

He presses his mouth hard on mine, stroking his tongue in and out, breaking away to breathe. I don't know why both of us are panting like this. We're hardly moving at all. But the ecstatic tension of it has us in its thrall.

Who will fall first?

I kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the side of his jaw, wherever I can reach. His eyes slide shut.

'You like it bareback?' I whisper, getting the reaction I'd hoped for in the way he snatches his eyes open and bites down on a moan.

'Oh fuck, Cora,' as his head drops to the crook of my neck, and his whole body clenches hard and tight.

Sam.

Sam falls.

I feel it; feel him letting go inside me. A hot rush. His hips jerk erratically, over and over until he's emptied out. Not until he's finished does he let out a long, low groan. He shuffles to one side, trying not to be a deadweight on me, his chest moving hard to catch his breath.

'What did you say?' he pants and coughs at me, his eyes a little bit incredulous.

I laugh, then shudder at the feel of him still in me, still so hard and alive.

'I blame Kam, am I right? That boy has a filthy mouth.'

I laugh some more.

'Maybe. I hoped it'd feel better for you, but I had no idea -'

'Hmm, I'm going to have to work on my stamina,' he smiles, shifting around some more.

'Really?'

I contract my muscles around him to make my point. He rolls us until I'm on top of him and flexes his hips, tipping his chin. I kiss it.

'I like that you can stay inside me like this afterwards. It feels really good,' I say before kissing his cheek and tilting my hips down on him.

'Cora, you're everything, you know that? Sweet, smart, all heart. And sexy as fuck.'

We both giggle at that last thing, but he interrupts us with some more rolling of his hips beneath me. We shiver and squirm as hot liquid starts to slide out of me. He wraps his arms around my back.