Saving Sam (The Wounded Warriors Book 1) (4 page)

“Beautiful girl,” he murmured against her breast.

“More,” she mumbled in ecstasy.

He chuckled and eased Amy back down on the bed, resting himself on top of her. He gave her a taste of what was coming by moving his firm manhood across her panty covered mound. He was swollen from she took great enjoyment in the knowledge that she had caused his readiness. She moaned, lifting her pelvis to apply more pressure.

“I'm going to take you now, Amy,” he warned.

“Yes. I know.” She smiled without opening her eyes. “That's why we're here.”

“Let's see how interested you really are.” His fingers dipped down inside her underwear to feel her lush moisture. “How can someone so shy be so hot and willing?”

“It's a question of the partner. You're the only one who could get this response,” she confessed.

“Really?” he asked with an obvious smirk.

“Well,” she looked at him teasingly, “that's partly because you're the only one who's bothered to try.”

“So anyone who made the effort…?”

Her playfulness left her as she peered into his compelling, waiting eyes. “Wouldn't be you,” she said honestly.

“Kiss me.”

He moved back up over her body and pressed his mouth to hers. Her nipples rubbed against the coarseness of his shirt, reminding her that he was still fully dressed. She struggled to open the buttons of his blue plaid shirt, while straining to maintain maximum contact with his body.

“Oh, baby, let's move this forward,” he urged. “I've been dreaming of this moment for years.”

“Yes,” she agreed as he sat up and stripped off his shirt and pants. “Sam?”

He looked at her.

“You have to move so I can get my panties off.”

“I'll take care of that for you,” he told her with wink.

He slid the garment down, inching backwards as he went, slowly easing it over her long slender legs. At the foot of the bed, he stood, dropping his own briefs to the floor. He lifted one foot in his hand, kissing the instep and then setting it far to the side. The other foot got the same treatment, and she lay spread wide.

“I've never forgotten how good you taste,” he told her.

“Is this just going to be a replay of my deflowering?” she quipped, and a thrill shot through her belly.

“Maybe, but without the pain and blood. You objecting?”

“No. That was… really nice.”

“I wish I'd had less to drink,” he said, his eyes tightening at the corners. “More self-control might have made it easier on you.”

“Oh well. It's years done. Come on, Sam. Less talk.”

“Yes, I have a better idea about how to use my mouth.”

She knew what his idea was and she was right. Just like that long ago night, he went down on her, licking her slick folds apart, tasting each one, finally finding her erect clitoris, which he lashed tenderly with the tip of his tongue. Amy gasped uncontrollably, squealing with little shrieks of delight.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” she moaned.

“How about this?” he asked her, as two blunt, thick fingers pressed at her entrance.

“You didn't do that before,” she half-protested, lifting her head off the bed, unsure how to handle the ecstasy she'd already experienced, and not sure she could take much more.

“So? Do you want these fingers inside you baby?”

“Okay?” she said timidly, posing it more as a question than a statement.

He spread her. She was tight after so many celibate years and squeaked a little in discomfort, but he soothed her with long, long licks to her clitoris and the uncomfortable stretching eased into a scorching sensation. She dropped her head back onto the bed as his fingers pushed into her folds and searched for the special button that would cause a climax like no other.

“I want you to come,” he told her firmly, taking pleasure in the effects he had on her.

“I'm almost there!”

“Do it, Amy. Show me I'm touching you the right way.”

“Keep going,” she urged, panting and moaning.

He licked her, sliding his fingers through her tight wetness, and her hips began rocking. And then the heat grew to an explosion. As before, Amy forgot her shyness and screamed as pleasure rocked her. Grinning, Sam lifted his face from her, slid his fingers out, and lifted her hips. Her knees came up without prompting, creating a cradle for him to rest in.

“Now, Amy, I'm going to take you now.”

“Oh yes!”

As he did, Amy squawked. The sensations pushed her past her initial release and drove her to her next wave of orgasm.

Even with his preparations, she was still almost too tight. She sighed as his thickness opened her and he dipped into her well. It had hurt four years ago. Tonight, it felt wonderful and satisfying. Nothing in her memory or fantasy laden dreams compared to this reality. She was little and he was big, which would have created really intense sex by itself, but the skill of Sam's love-making lifted them to unimaginable heights. His dark eyes burning into hers, as their fingers interlaced together, and his body pressed full length against hers.

As if their potent union wasn't enough, Sam asked in a low, intense voice, “Do you love me now, Amy?”

“Yeeeeeees,” she wailed.

He thrust. “What about now?”

“Yes! Yes! I love you, Sam!” She cried out loudly into the night.

“And now?” he asked again, delivering another, harder deeper thrust.

“You know I love you.”

“Yes, I do. I know you love me, Amy.”

The fourth thrust was the decisive one, and her whole body arched under the wild, wet orgasm that streaked through her, soaking his sex, easing his path through her body, allowing him to take her harder, deeper, never slowing. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him, and he came, just like that, in the only safe place he had known in over a year.

Dawn was breaking, and the early streaks of the morning sun were trying to push their way through the opening where her curtains didn't quite meet. Groggy, still tired, Amy didn't feel ready to wake up all the way. She remained languid from the night of passion she'd shared with Sam. The thought of Sam reminded Amy that he lay beside her in the bed, pulling a smile at the corners of her mouth.

It was Sunday, and no work needed to be done in the ranch office today. Amy felt content she could just snuggle Sam closer to her, with no other commitments on her time. It was rare to find Amy staying in bed late, but she had no reason to rush her day. Instead, she wanted to bask in the happy glow of the previous night.

Sam lay deeply asleep, curled up around her naked body, his head on her shoulder, his arm rested across her waist. Close. Intimate. Satisfying. Amy loved it.

Reminiscing, it was hard to believe her once spoiled, selfish Sam was suddenly so… hot, so loving. He hadn't said he loved her, but she could feel that he did, and he desired her love. His body spoke the truth even when he was unable to say the words. It was enough… for now.

Her bedroom door banged open abruptly.

“Amy where the hell is…” Dustin Wallace barged into the room and stopped dead.

We must be quite a sight
, Amy thought. Though there was a sheet covering them, an awful lot of Sam's naked chest and her bare shoulders showed. There was no mystery what had happened here.

“Amy?”

She pressed her finger to her lips and mouthed the words
Let him sleep.
Dusty gave her an expectant look and beckoned. Amy tilted her head and looked at her boss questioningly. How exactly was she supposed to extract herself from the tangle of limbs and climb out of the bed without disturbing Sam?

Sam stirred as she wriggled away from him. His dark eyes opened without really focusing and she cooed at him in hopes of lulling him back to sleep.

“I'll be right back, baby. Go back to sleep,” she murmured as she kissed his lips softly.

Much to her relief, Sam's eyes closed and his breathing returned to the rhythmic pattern of slumber. One problem dealt with, she now had a new situation to address.
There's no way in hell I'm getting out of the bed naked with my boss standing right there.

Dusty looked askance, impatient that he had to wait on her, but she met his stare with her own. She gestured towards the bed, trying to convey her situation and encourage Dustin to leave the room, or at least turn his back so she'd have some privacy. Realization finally dawned on him and he quickly retreated to the next room, closing the door behind him.

Amy shook her head in frustration as she made her way out from under the bed covers. The air-conditioned room felt chilly in contrast to the relaxing warmth of Sam's body against her bare skin. She shivered as she quickly pulled on her bathrobe and joined Dusty in the tiny living room where he was waiting. She was uncertain about what to expect and quite frankly, a little pissed off that Mr. Wallace had the audacity to barge into her bedroom the way he had.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded in a loud, blustering whisper.

“Isn't it obvious, Mr. Wallace?” Amy asked, blushing, but unapologetic.

“Why?”

Amy gulped, struggling to put into words the nebulous, powerful feelings swirling through her psyche. “You told me to help him, to find out what was wrong.”

Dusty's bushy eyebrows drew together. “This isn't what I meant. Amy, I thought you were a good girl; different than your mother. Please tell me this isn't your way of… helping Sam.”

“No. It's my way of loving him,” Amy countered, stung by the unfair comparison.
But is it unfair? She let herself be used too.

He raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Tara.”

Amy's temper started to flare. “This is nothing like my mother.”

“She thought every guy she bedded loved her and was going to marry her,” Dusty blurted in frustration. “How is this different?”

“I never said he loved me,” Amy countered in a controlled voice. “And who mentioned marriage?”

“So you're saying Tara didn't love all those men?” Dusty demanded. “Because, I can assure you, she believed she did.”

“My mother didn't know how to love,” Amy replied quietly.

* * *

Dusty winced, his face twisting into an apology for mentioning Tara and dredging up memories. It had been wrong to say what he had, unfair and untrue. He knew that Amy was nothing like her mother except for one flawed trait; she trusted too easily and with blind devotion, giving herself completely and almost killing herself to compensate for what her partner lacked or was unwilling to give. If only Tara had lavished that love on her daughter instead of the long line of undeserving men.

“Amy,” Dusty sounded apologetic, but he looked lost as to what to say next.

“Come on, Mr. Wallace. It's never been a secret that I've loved Sam since I was fourteen.”

His lips stretched into a grimace, dragging his handlebar moustache wide. “No. Not a secret.”

“Then what's the big surprise?” Amy demanded.

* * *

For once Dusty appeared to have been rendered silent for the space of several seconds. His mouth opened and closed uselessly before he firmed his chin and spoke. “Nothing,” he told her tightly. “I just wasn't expecting…
this
.”

“Me,” she found the courage to finally confront him with her long-held fear. “You weren't expecting
me
.”

“Amy, it's not that I don't care about you,” Mr. Wallace began, but he sputtered to a halt when he saw the face she was making.

“I don't care, Mr. Wallace. This isn't about what you need. It's about what
he
needs and he needs someone to be close to him,” Amy insisted. “Someone soothing.”

Dusty gulped. “He's bad, isn't he?”

Amy nodded. “Yes. I don't know what happened, but he's not eating or sleeping nearly as well as he should be.”

“And this is the help he needs?” He gestured up the length of her body.

As her boss scrutinized her underclad figure, shame coursed through her. She gripped the lapels of her bathrobe, closing the fabric tighter over her skin. Feeling slightly indignant, she straightened herself a little taller and braced herself more firmly. “It's what he can take right now,” she explained.

Dusty regarded her another long moment and then nodded in agreement. “Take care of him, Amy.”

“That's what I aim to do,” she vowed. Then she paused and hesitantly added, “So you're okay about this… about me?”

“No,” he replied, and her heart sank before he added, “but not because you're a secretary. I don't want you to get hurt. My objection to your involvement with my son isn't because of you, but rather, it's because I've seen what he's like with the women he dates.”

Amy's mouth opened in surprise. Dusty was usually a blunt man, but she was seeing a side of him she hadn't realized was there. To see him stumble yet again was not only unusual, but unsettling. Amy struggled, trying to understand what it all meant.

“I…” Dusty sputtered. “I've seen how he's… mistreated you in the past.”

“Oh,” Amy replied, a little shocked by this new revelation.

She'd never witnessed Dusty speaking negatively about Sam before. She had always assumed her station as a hired hand rendered her unsuitable as a potential partner for Sam. It had never occurred to her that it might be Sam's shortcomings instead of hers Dusty found offensive. Amy would have to think about this more, when she was alone with nothing to distract her.

“Yeah,” he said, looking around uncomfortably. Whether his discomfort was because of his admission or her lack of appropriate apparel, she wasn't sure.

“You don't have to worry about me,” she told him with the same brutal honesty she'd used on his son the previous night. “The truth is that it would hurt far worse to not be with him.”

“All right then,” he said as he shifted a bit in place. “I hope you don't get your heart broken.”

“Me too.”

Then Dusty did something that blew Amy's mind completely. He approached her quickly, kissing her on the forehead, and said, “I could think of a worse daughter.”

Amy felt stunned. She watched in silence as Dustin stalked out of her apartment. After taking a moment to collect herself, she hurried to use the bathroom and dropped her robe before sliding back into her bed. She pressed her body against Sam, grateful for his warmth once more. Without waking, he cuddled her close, nuzzling into her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.