Tied to Sam Ch. 02

His phone buzzes and he twists his hips to pull it out of his back pocket. I see it's another message from Mary. He reads it quickly, then puts it down without replying. Gives me a small smile. That's when it falls into place.

'She's asking if you've done it yet, isn't she? Your mum?'

He tilts his head to one side. 'Yeah. I've been talking to her about it for a while. She thought it'd be too soon for you.'

I nod. I imagine how they've talked about it, in Mary's bright room with the view of the lovely garden, over cups of tea and whatever kind of cake Sam's thought to buy for her.

'Aren't you going to tell her?'

'Nah. Let's get used to the idea before we do that.'

He smiles at me.

I smile back.

+++

The sound of the engine dies. Neither of us moves to get out of the car. The rain is slamming down hard from the leaden sky, but I don't think that's why we're reluctant to move. Sam's pulling at his shoulders, rolling them to relieve the tension of the drive. That last stretch was brutal, the traffic crawling along the greasy, wet roads, red tail lights flashing and blinking at us.

'Thanks for driving, Sam. I know that wasn't much fun.'

'That's ok, C. Although I'm not sorry we won't be doing that journey again any time soon.'

'I hear you.' I reach to touch his forearm. 'Me leaving Manchester has its advantages.'

'Listen, Cora,' he begins, turning towards me and looking all serious. 'If it's really too soon, I don't mind. I mean, I want to marry you, but if you want to wait to see if -,'

'Sam, stop. I said yes and I meant it.'

He chews at the inside of his mouth.

'If you're sure -,'

I unclick my seatbelt.

'I'm sure, Sam. Really sure.'

His skin goose-bumps up at my touch. I rub the gold chain between two fingertips, watching him tip his neck forwards.

'Ok.' He says this quietly.

'You going to text your mum then? Put her out of her misery?' I pick up his phone and hold it out to him.

He takes it from me. 'If you're sure. You know there'll be no going back once we tell her?'

'Sam! I'm sure. I. Am. Sure.'

His face lights up in a big grin, but before he can do anything else, I dart my hand in front of his phone.

'Have you been spending the last hour and a half wondering if you've done the right thing?'

His shoulders tense up. I press my hand to the back of his neck.

'No, but yes. Not about marrying you, Cora. Not that at all. Everyone's going to say we're too young and I don't care two hoots about that. But I don't want to hold you back. I mean, you could do anything you want, C. Anything.'

'Yeah, yeah Sam. And I plan on doing a lot, trust me. But I want you, Sam, and don't you ever doubt it.'

We stare at each other, sitting there in the car park beneath the block of flats we grew up in, the playground where we first met fourteen years ago visible through the blurry back window, contemplating what it will be like to spend the rest of our lives together. We don't know - have no idea - but we can let ourselves imagine. I rub my hand against him, dragging the gold chain around beneath my palm.

'And I've got a good job, Sam, with a pension, and in a few years' time I'll qualify for full maternity pay. Because we're going to have kids young, Sam.'

I watch his eyes widen and a slow smile return to his face.

'Are we?'

'Yes we are.'

'Good. I want to be able to dance with you at our grandkids' weddings.'

'Exactly. So - text your mum, then?'

'I've got a better idea. Why don't we call her once we've got all this into your flat and maybe after I've had a shower and we get some food?'

We agree the plan and, after a few kisses, we unload the car.

As we're carrying the boxes into my flat, mum appears from her bedroom and I'm about to apologise for waking her up, but realise she's fully dressed. She gives me a big kiss sideways on, as I hold a box of clothes between both hands, and does the same when she sees Sam, waiting for him to bend his knees so she can reach his cheek. The sight makes me laugh.

She reprimands me for looking skinny, asks how the drive was, and whether we saw Alice on our way into the flats or not. It surprises me she's not putting the kettle on to make us tea, and then she explains all by saying she's got some church friends coming over and wants us out of the way.

'Go on Cora,' she says, catching the look I'm giving Sam. 'I expect you both need a wash and clean up after that long drive, and you can do that at Sam's. I don't know why you're looking at me like that. I know you keep a toothbrush there, Cora Jane, I'm not daft. I don't expect to see you until tomorrow, and you can tell me then whatever news it is you've got for me.'

I dig around for a change of clothes while Sam goes up to his flat. A couple of mum's friends arrive and I get caught up with them wanting to know all about my exams and the end of university and my new job and plans for the summer and on and on, so it's ages before I can get away. I only manage to get a proper hug out of mum by crowding into the kitchen with her while she puts the kettle on for them. She pretends to bat me off, but I won't let her, and she grunts at me as I squeeze her to me.

'What are you fussing for, Cora? Go on, go and see Sam. He's been having such a bad time without you, you know. Go on, go on, girl!'

And then she relents, hugging me back.

'Love you, mum.'

'I'm sure you do.'

She purses her lips, but her eyes are warm.

I race down the stairs to his flat, suddenly desperate to see him; as if we haven't spent the last twenty-fours together at all. I have to knock on the door - I've left my key downstairs in the mess of my belongings. He takes a while to answer, opening the door in wet hair and just jeans.

'I got trapped by the choir,' I explain.

They aren't really the choir; it's just our name for mum's church friends. I squeeze past him into the flat, getting a nice waft of Sam's smell.

'What do you think that was all about?' I ask.

'Dunno, but she kissed me, so it can't be too bad? Even after dropping the bombshell that she knows all about your toothbrush.'

'Right! Bit of a shocker, though.' I drop the clothes I've brought on the sofa. 'Shall we call Mary, then?'

When there's no reply I look around until I find him in the bathroom, hanging up the towels and pulling the shower curtain out.

'Shall we call Mary, then?' I repeat, although I'm starting to think about other ways of spending what's left of the afternoon, the way Sam's looking without a shirt on.

'Yes. My phone's in my bedroom.'

I wander down the hall to his room, thinking about what words Sam's going to use to tell his mum. His touch startles me. I hadn't heard him following me. His hand curls around mine.

'What do you see?' he says into my ear.

'Wha-?' but he's nudging my shoulder, wanting me to look into the room.

I look.

At the bed. Neat and tidy.

No clothes on the chair, or on the floor either.

His phone is by the bed, and I start to move to get it, but he pulls me back.

'No. You're not looking.'

I scan the wall over the bed. The same photos in picture frames hang there. "I'm in love with you Cora" is still there in white letters. I frown, not seeing whatever it is Sam thinks I should be able to see. His hand tightens over mine.

Oh, wait. He's right. I wasn't looking hard enough.

I have to kneel on the bed to reach, to a picture nail hammered into the wall beneath Sam's declaration.

'This?' I ask, holding out my upturned hand.

Sam climbs onto the bed behind me.

'Yes.'

'Hmm.' I raise an eyebrow, a bit gobsmacked, to tell the truth.

'Are you going to try it?'

I slip the gold band onto my finger. It's a smooth, perfect fit. He looks pleased. And relieved. And delighted.

'Sam! How -?' and then memories of Alice making me try on lots of her rings one night as she was getting ready to go out circle around my mind.

And now he's just looking very smug and pleased with himself, a big dimple in his cheek.

'But that was months ago! Alice has been in on it too?'

He's just grinning at me, blue eyes full of sparkle now.

'And so this one fits you perfectly, does it?

Because, you know, it's not just a wedding band for me. There's one for Sam too. Tied to each other with a length of the slimmest of red ribbons, knotted at each end around both rings.

He reaches around me, slips the bigger ring on his finger; a good fit.

'Sam, you've really been planning this.'

His laugh vibrates into my back, and I join in, euphoria surging through me. I tug the thin red ribbon taut between our hands.

'Now I've got you,' I breathe, pressing back into him, tipping my head to one side, tempting him to kiss my neck.

He eases me back onto his lap. Holds me close enough that I can feel his heart beating, pulling my hand with his to lie against my heart, coaxing and shaping it to press against the underside of my breast and, eventually, pushing my thumb with his across my nipple. It sends small shocks coursing through me. Sam tightens his hold.

'I can't get last night out of my mind,' he mouths into my ear, sending more sharp shocks shooting through my body.

'Me neither, Sam.'

He grunts, shifting his hips, pressing himself against me. I drop my head forwards again, hoping he'll kiss me this time. But he seems to be content with rubbing my thumb over my nipple again and again. The repetition is maddening. Brilliantly maddening. I fidget. He breathes onto my neck, getting closer, but not as close as I'd like.

'Sam, kiss me,' I ask, softly.

He uses his right hand to turn my face, splaying his fingers up the side of my head to hold me there. He's a good kisser, Sam. He takes his time over it. Brushing his lips over mine. Sometimes dry, sometimes wet. Always warm. Pressing them to mine. Sometimes still; tantalising. Sometimes pushing and pulling; insistent, but never too much. He releases me, letting me rest my neck awhile, running his hand down to dip it into the top of my shirt, and finally ceasing his assault on my burning nipple.

I've almost forgotten our left hands are connected by the thin red ribbon looped through our gold rings until my hand is forced to drop down to my lap with his. I feel his short laugh behind me. Maybe he'd forgotten too. He folds his fingers around mine, squeezing them. Squeezing them again when I jump at his other hand suddenly forcing its way into my bra and around my breast.

'I've got you,' he murmurs, pressing me harder to him in case I was in any doubt.

'Hmm, so it seems, Sam. But what happened to calling Mary?'

It's not like I want to stop. But I can't resist a little tease.

'She can wait.'

He dives both our hands down into my jeans, pulling at the zip with his other hand. I squirm.

'You'll have to touch what I touch, Cora.'

And to make his point, he pulls our hands deeper into my knickers. Umm, already slick.

'Like this,' he's breathing, pushing our fingers in deliberate circles together to capture me.

My head falls back onto his shoulder, only able to concentrate on the intense, needy warmth that's unfurling from the base of my spine. The unfamiliarity of it, how we're using our unpractised left hands, how Sam seems so focused, so concentrated on moving us together - it's stealing my breath away. All I can hear is my own shallow panting, my mind already lifting and floating, only dimly aware of Sam shuffling and shifting behind and around me. Of his fingers working me, sometimes firmly and then sometimes receding to the lightest, barest of touches; my fingers following his lead without thought.

'Mmm, Cora, I'm going to do this to you for the rest of our lives. How about that?'

My hips, my heart - they both lurch at his words. I can't form any words. I let my head fall forwards, my body curling inwards, but he follows me, lifting my hips up. He's pushing at my jeans and underwear, pushing them downwards, his hand smoothing over my bottom in broad strokes, detouring to the front of my hip bone, then back again, until he pulls me back onto him. Where he seems to have freed himself from his jeans too; pushed them down low enough to not be a hindrance. Again, we both can't stop ourselves shuddering at the first touch. His skin and mine coming together. He's hot, stiff and sticky, pressing into my back. I cant my hips back to feel him, listening to the sounds coming out of his chest and throat.

He coaxes me to lift up again, then back, both of us groaning at the heat as I settle onto his cock between my thighs; at the pulsing, slippy feel of us together. He groans and pants into my ear, drawing me firmly to his body, right arm tight under my breasts, his left hand and mine flat against the base of my belly, pressing me back and down onto his cock.

'Uh, god,' his voice surprisingly rough, jerking his hips forwards, his breath snatching in his throat. 'I can't believe how good you feel.'

My head clears in that moment, and I need to see his face, twisting to find him. His eyes are half-closed, colour rising up his neck and onto his cheeks. I twist more, wanting to watch him. He notices, opens his eyes.

Yeah - almost all pupil. Blown.

He urges me closer, to kiss me. Slow, but so much heat. He starts to say something, but I press my lips to his to stop him, then release them for long enough to whisper I know how much he loves me.

He starts moving us again, more firmly now, his cock sliding against me, the thrill of him bare almost too much. I lean forwards, wanting to feel him pushing himself into me. Instead, he's pulling me upright.

'I want to see you,' he breathes.

We're a messy tangle of limbs as I try to turn around, hampered by the jeans caught around my thighs and the red ribbon tethering our left hands together. We smile as we pull at my jeans until I'm free of them, leaving my shirt and bra where they are, manoeuvring ourselves so I can face him. I thread my fingers through his, feeling the hard rub of our rings for the first time. I pull our hands up in front of our faces to show him, watching his eyes flicker; that cute uptick at the corner of his mouth.

We kiss each other but it's no good because we can't stop grinning, then laughing when Sam's walking me backwards, both of us on our knees, until my back is up against the headboard.

He sits back on his heels, leaning in to kiss my breasts, pushing my clothing out of the way, taking each one in his mouth in turn, his tongue firm and inquisitive; playful, sometimes curling around my nipples, sometimes flat against them. I press into him, stretching my arms over my head, pulling his left arm with me until he takes over, pulling both my arms together and into the stretch, moving back a little to look at me.

The intensity, the vulnerability, pour over me - my need for reassurance suddenly acute. He kneels up, warm and solid as he pulls me into a hug, our left arms awkward, trapped between us; my relief palpable. We breathe together until I'm calmer.

'Ok?'

I nod. 'Sorry, I was -,'

He shakes his head.

'Don't. I'm sorry if that was too much.'

'Mmm, too much, Sam. Good, but I wasn't ready for it,' I shrug, not sure how to explain, kissing the place just below his ear to reassure him.

He makes soft noises while I explore his neck, the side of his face, behind his ears and around his hairline, increasingly muffled as his head sinks to my shoulder. I hold him there, my hand gentle in-between his shoulder blades.

He tugs our left hands down lower to wrap mine around his cock, humming at my touch. I squeeze, move my palm over him, making him slick. His humming hitches, he makes an impatient noise; pulls at my hip, positioning us. Both of us have to take an extra breath as we touch, our hands guiding us to fit together, Sam's humming louder against my neck the deeper he reaches into me, until we're complete.

'I can't get enough of how this feels, Cora,' his words burn into my mind.

I tremble, getting used to him, to being full of him. Adjusting until there's no difference between us; until we're one and the same. I think Sam must be waiting for it too. He hardly moves, his face pressed into my neck, one arm around my waist, the other still tied to me; trapped between our bodies, flat against my stomach.

Eventually he half-laughs, clears his throat and lifts his head up.

'I suppose I'm going to get used to it, but I still can't move, Cora,' and he laughs again, this time his cock twitching too, making my belly flutter and flare.

I hold his chin to kiss him.

'It's amazing, Sam. No need to move,' I manage to say, doing my best not to tighten up around him.

He groans.

'I can feel you so much.' He drops his head back to my shoulder.

The combination of his words and the way he's heavy against me - it makes my heartrate accelerate. I snatch at my breath and both of us flinch.

'Like that,' he whispers, raising his head again to look at me. 'I felt that.'

We smile at each other.

'Is it different for you?'

'Yes. I didn't think I'd feel much difference, but I do.'

'How?'

'Umm -,' I try to think straight, to find some vocabulary, but I can't, and when he makes the smallest of movements with his hips, we're both gasping and laughing, trying to control it, not wanting it to consume us.

Not yet.

Just a few more moments of this beautiful, suspended deliciousness. Please.

We cling on to it; quivering, vibrating, holding on with every single, tiny fibre of ourselves. We try to stay so still. A fragile balancing act. I hold mind and body still. Until I can't any longer. Until I can't stop myself from tipping the scales.

'Sam Connolly, you know how much I love you, don't you?' I manage to breathe, daring to look straight into his blue eyes, knowing this will bring the end.

'Mmm. Why don't you tell me, Cora?'

It sounds like bravado, but I see the way his eyes are glistening, bright.

Just the tiny movement I make to kiss his eyelids - that's enough. The quivering, the vibrations we had under control - they thud and spiral through us like pure electricity. It snatches our breath away. His eyes lock onto mine. A noise of - what - frustration, impatience, desire, escapes him as he rises up, lifting me with him, pressing me up against the headboard. I stop him, grab for a pillow, something to cushion my back from the wooden slats, and he helps tuck it behind me before using his strength to pin me right up against it. It drives the air out of me.

Out of both of us, I think, because Sam pauses too.

But then his eyes seem to open out, deepen, as he lifts his chin just a tiny bit, and grabs the top of the headboard with his right hand to lever us even closer into each other. I hold my breath as he tests it again, using his hips this time, seeing if this position is going to work for us. I grip him harder, my legs tight around him.

We share a moment of amused frustration that we're effectively one-handed; still tied. But it's impossible to concentrate much on anything beyond what Sam's hips are doing to me.

My head drops back. I stare at the ceiling, feeling him. Just feeling him. His pace is gentle, really, but my body and mind are consumed by it; by the pull and drag of him inside me; the pulsing pressure of him inside me and up against me, robbing me of myself yet giving me so much.

'Cora.'

His voice pulls my eyes down to his. What does he see there? Love? Surrender? Love and surrender? I don't know. I don't know if what I'm feeling is mine alone, or for the both of us.

I see blue. A kind, soft, deep blue, pushed out to the limit of his irises by his big black pupils. Bright in the flat daylight of his bedroom. Steadily holding my gaze. More focused than me. Shockingly focused, drilling into me.

His hips slow; falter. He presses his mouth to my cheeks, to the salty wetness there, and his fingers scrabble to find mine, awkward and trapped as they are between our bodies. I feel him draw breath deep into his chest.