Chapter Seven

THE SMELL OF GARLICand Italian spices welcomed them when they returned to the house. With the entrée hot and ready, getting dinner on the table was a breeze. She got the drinks, plates, and silverware, the crusty loaf of bread, from a local bakery, she'd found in the pantry and pre-sliced, while Sam carried over the pan and served.

Staying in one position for more than five minutes was Krista's undoing. Her head actually bobbed while holding her fork with a big steamy bite. Sam noticed—rarely did he miss anything.

"Long day, huh, darlin'?"

"Yeah. I don't know how you do it."

"Practice. Can you hang with me a few more minutes?"

She nodded and forked up another bite. When the utensil hit her plate with a loud clatter a moment later, her head snapped up. Startled, she stared bleary eyed at Sam as it dawned on her she'd fallen asleep sitting up again.

"Your hair is in your plate, baby."

Looking down, sure enough, a curl had fallen in the sauce and cheese. That's because she never did find her ponytail holder after their kiss in the yard. She ran the strands down the center of her folded napkin, noticing the ends were stained orange.

"I'm sorry I'm bad company, Daddy."

"That's okay, little bit. Why don't you head on up? It's bathtime then bedtime for you."

Too exhausted to protest, she rose to take her plate to the sink.

"I'll get that, darlin'. You're dead on your feet."

A series of loud knocks startled her even more than her clattering fork. She heard Sam mutter, "It's about time," as he rose, took the plate out of her hand before she dropped it, then went to answer the door.

A deputy followed him when he returned.

"Krista, come here."

She took a tentative step toward him. "Did something happen? My Nana, she's not—"

"No, darlin', nothing like that. I'm sure your grandmother is fine." He held his hand out to her, and she moved forward to take it. "This is Jerry Stillman, my senior deputy. He's also on the council."

He looked to be about forty with a great smile and unusual pale-green eyes that were quite striking even beneath the shadowy brim of his deputy's hat. He nodded in greeting then looked around the kitchen. "Something sure smells good."

"I made lasagna. Would you like some? There's plenty."

"Thought you'd never ask," was his response at the same time Sam said sharply, "No, he wouldn't."

At his uncharacteristic rudeness, Krista blinked up at him in surprise, but he was glaring at the other man.

"Jerry needs to get back on patrol after he finishes what he came here to do."

"Oh, what was that?"

"He's on the council." This he said slowly and with emphasis.

She didn't know why that was important, so she smiled politely at the man and said, "That's nice."

Jerry's head snapped around to Sam, and he looked as confused as she felt.

"I thought you said she was ready to sign?"

"Sign? I don't understand."

He took her hands and turned her to face him. "This morning and again this evening out in the yard, you said you wanted me to take the lead, darlin'. I can't do that unless the agreement is signed."

"For sex," Jerry put in.

"Oh..." she said, finally getting it, and like so often of late, her cheeks flushed as though scalded.

"Around here, the agreement is a lot like condoms. When you need one, you don't have one. And when you got 'em, you don't need 'em. And sometimes, when you don't need 'em, they're everywhere, which is just fate rubbing it in."

Krista didn't follow that at all, and Sam just lost his patience.

"Did you bring it?" Sam growled.

"Oh, yeah. The judge had one ready to go and faxed it over. He didn't seem surprised."

Krista's face burned hot. Jerry and the judge knew she had agreed to move forward, in the bedroom, or wherever with Sam.

"If you're sure, Krista, sign, and we can talk about it after Jerry's gone."

"Um, sorry, boss, but shouldn't that be the other way around?"

"Just give me the damn thing."

He pulled an envelope out of his coat and removed the papers inside, unfolding them and then smoothing them out on the counter. He dipped back into his pocket to retrieve a pen.

At the top of the first of several pages—formally contracted intercourse required more than one evidently—she saw the heading, Sentencing Agreement – Addendum B. She was afraid to ask what addendum A entailed. It all seemed surreal and not the least bit romantic, unlike the kisses she'd shared with Sam.

"Read it. And if you're ready, sign it. Unfortunately, the nature of this contract takes the passion out of the decision, but that's the prime purpose. Going into this clearheaded and with full consent is the goal."

She picked it up and started reading. It had the same legal jargon as all the other documents she'd already signed. The words that popped out at her were sex, consent, uncoerced, and the bulleted clause, Revocation of this agreement may be enacted verbally at any time during the sentencing phase. It was mind boggling that they went to this extent to have sex.

"You don't have any questions?" Sam asked when she picked up the pen and scrawled her signature on the line by her typed name.

"Only one. Can I go up now? I'd don't think I can keep my eyes open much longer."

"You understand what you agreed to, don't you, Krista?" the deputy asked, all serious now.

"Sex with Sam is now on the table. I understand."

Sam took the pen and passed it to Jerry.

"You can go on up now, baby." With a kiss from Sam on her forehead, and a wave to his deputy, Krista slogged tiredly toward the stairs, lurching to a stop when he called, "Use my Jacuzzi. I'll be up in a bit."

Frozen in place, a thrill of excitement whipped through her, but also unease. Despite their conversation that morning about taking things further, she'd only know the man for twenty-four hours. Sure, there had been hand holding and kisses, and he was demonstrative with his touching, but she'd never hopped into bed with someone after only a day. Suddenly, she wasn't sleepy at all.

"And don't get those bandages wet," he went on to say. "I want to check them first."

Maybe that was all he intended to do.

Yeah, right. She'd have to be really sleep-deprived to believe that. He wouldn't have hauled his deputy out here to sign the agreement giving him the green light for sex if blisters were all he had on his mind.

Filled with uncertainty, Krista climbed the stairs on rubbery, achy legs. After stopping by her room to retrieve her nightgown, one of her own not the oversized borrowed one, and the small overnight bag that held all her essentials, she walked through his room, trying her best not to look at his bed. She already knew it was big, with a thick comforter and at least four king-size pillows. All that was left was to find out if he spent his money on high-thread-count sheets, which would be ultra-soft against her skin, and if it was as comfortable as it looked.

On the outside chance he was only thinking about bandages and blisters, she didn't want to consider how she would feel snuggled up close to him while she drifted off to sleep, or how safe she'd be with him lying next to her, or what it would be like to be flat on her back with his weight pressing her into the mattress as he moved inside her.

Yeah, she didn't want to think about it, but her mind couldn't turn those thoughts off. She hurried to the bathroom and shut the door. After turning on the spigots and setting the temperature, she let the tub fill while she looked for bubble bath or something other than his body wash. Finding nothing else, she opened his bottle of Nivea Energy 3-in-1 for men and sniffed. It smelled clean and fresh, but utterly masculine. If he took things further tonight, she didn't want to smell like a man.

Along the line of smells, she wanted to have fresh breath.

She got her toothbrush out of her bag, and once she was minty fresh piled her hair on top of her head in a messy knot. Krista eyed the five switches on the wall. She didn't know which, if any, controlled the Jacuzzi, so she left them off. All that was left was to hop into the tub and wait for him.

Since she couldn't get her hands wet, this was no easy task. The walls of the tub were high and thick to accommodate the jets, but somehow, she slid in up to her neck with her hands never breaking the surface of the water.

Lying back, she realized the picture she made. Without suds or bubbles from the jets when he walked in, he'd have an unobstructed view of her body.

Her best assets were her waist-length hair and her curvy ass. Neither of which he would see. The parts in between weren't bad—C-cup breasts, a flat belly, and a neatly trimmed patch of curls a few inches lower. Did her prefer bare, or maybe less like with a landing strip? Either way, there wasn't anything she could do about it now.

As the minutes ticked by, the hot water and steam eased her tension. The heat seeped into her tired muscles, and lethargy took hold. With nothing else to do except wait, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

***

AFTER HE SIGNED ANDJerry witnessed, Sam practically booted him out the door.

He put away the leftovers, carried the few dishes to the sink, and rinsed them off, leaving the rest for the morning. Once he retrieved what he needed to rebandage her hands, he closed up the house, turned out the lights, and mounted the stairs. It was early for him, but it had been a long day, and after the call-out to another drug confiscation on the island, he, like Krista, was dog tired.

He was also frustrated with his dead-end investigation. In the past six months, there had been an increase in recreational drug use on the island. They always had the occasional dime bag of pot and some ecstasy among the beachgoers, but there had been a jump in crack and methamphetamine arrests. It was getting onto the island somehow, but they'd yet to figure out how. He'd put the stores on alert for purchases of key components for manufacturing the product, but there hadn't been a trend, and he'd beefed up security at the bridge, including random searches and drug dogs, so he didn't think that was it. It had to be coming in through the private airport, another place easily locked down, or by boat. He could set perimeter patrols around the island, but they couldn't surveille sixty miles of coastline constantly.

Arresting the users was getting him nowhere. He needed to find the distributor and shut him down. The college kids tonight—six in all—were so wasted on booze and meth, they couldn't interrogate them. Five were sobering up at the jail and would be charged and released to their parents in the morning. Hopefully scared enough to give up their dealer before they left. The other was breathing but non-responsive and spending the night at the hospital in town.

His thoughts turned to Krista. She was about their age, and with what she'd been through, having a mother who was an addict, and dating someone who either was or was heading that way, she was fortunate not to have succumbed to the lure. He didn't want to think of her ruining her life, or it coming to a premature end. An image of her stoned out of her mind or unconscious like the girl tonight made a cold chill creep up his spine.

She had a daddy to protect her now, at least for the next twenty-eight days, and no matter how things turned out between them after, if she decided to stay and make a home on the landing or return to the city—that shithole apartment was out, no matter what—she would always be able to call on him for support.

Feeling fatigue in his bones, Sam stopped by the linen closet and gathered the supplies she'd need—a towel and brand-new bath scrubby, body wash—it was his sister's brand, the scent honey-almond, but it would have to do if he didn't want her to smell like a man—shampoo, and conditioner. As an afterthought, he grabbed a bottle of detangler—her long hair would undoubtedly need it.

With his arms full, he made his way to his master bath, juggling things a little as he opened the door, then stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the beauty in his tub.

Sleeping Beauty, that was.

Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, but mostly he could tell from the slow rise and fall of her chest visible in the clear water. He moved inside and closed the door to keep in the heat.

He set everything down on the counter then moved next to the tub and gazed down at her—cheeks pink from the warm water, blonde tendrils clinging to her neck—then he looked lower, taking in her round breasts, narrow waist, and rounded hips. The triangle of hair at the apex of her slender thighs made his cock lengthen and his jeans uncomfortably tight. He didn't have a partiality for bare like some doms he knew, but if he got to use his ropes on her, the sexy little tuft would have to go.

In sleep, she looked both innocent and seductive, like a mixture of the woman who'd been through some rough times in her short life and the protected little girl she deserved to be.

Sam knelt beside the tub and watched her sleep. His taking the lead with her tonight was definitely out. He didn't want his first time with her to be while she was exhausted, and it couldn't happen if she was asleep, but he had plenty of time, when they both weren't wiped out.

"Wake up, baby," he called softly so as not to startle her.

She didn't move a muscle.

He tried again, raising his voice slightly. "Krista."

Thinking she could sleep through the entire thing, he reached for the bright-green bath pouf, wet it, then hit it with a shot of the liquid soap. He squeezed the pouf until it was foaming. Her hair would have to wait. He couldn't very well dunk her while she was out, so he decided to start washing at her neck and work his way down.

When he trickled warm, sudsy water over her shoulder, he got quite a reaction. She sat upright in the tub with a gasp, her sudden movement sloshing water over the edge onto the floor and all over him.

Turning toward him, she blinked in surprise. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep in the bath. Which is never a good idea; it's not safe."

She stared at him a moment then frowned as she took in his soaked shirt. "Did I do that?" she asked in alarm.

"Yeah, but not to worry. Living on a ranch, I never buy dry-clean only."

"I'm sorry."

"You had an eventful day and, as Nonna used to say, you were plumb tuckered out. Think nothing of it."

"Nonna?"

"My grandmother."

A soft smile played around her lips. "That's cute."

"It's impossible for a six-foot five-inch, two hundred-and-thirty-pound Texan who's also a horse rancher and a sheriff to be cute, darlin'."

"Whatever you say, Daddy." But she giggled, which led him to believe she wasn't convinced.

He caught her wrist and began unraveling the bandage, which had gotten wet during the splashing. Her hand looked pink and clean, without signs of infection. When he unwrapped the other, the fluid-filled blister had burst and drained, but it also looked good. The antibiotic ointment seemed to be doing its job.

"Keep doing what we're doing, and in a couple of days these will be all better."

"Can I get them wet now?"

"Yes, but only in the tub. We'll keep them covered until they're closed otherwise."

"Then I need to wash my hair, Daddy."

He twisted and retrieve the bottle of strawberry shampoo. "I got this. Dunk under."

Her hands stilled in the middle of undoing her hair band. "You're gonna do it?"

"Don't you think I can?"

"Oh, no, it's just, I have a lot of hair."

"I noticed, and it's beautiful." He brushed her hands aside and took over. When the wavy mass came down around her shoulders, he struggled to maintain a calm he didn't feel, and his pants seemed to shrink another size. "Dunk, and we'll get it all clean."

Still looking skeptical, Krista plugged her nose, took a deep breath, and, with her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's, sank down until she fully submerged. When she resurfaced and wiped the water from her eyes, he began working the shampoo through her magnificent mane with both hands.

The strands slid through his fingers like satin, and once he'd washed it all the way to the ends, he returned to her head and massaged her scalp.

"Mm," she moaned, eyes closed again. "I could stay right like this and let you do this forever."

That made one of them. Although he enjoyed it, having her naked body only inches away while she made sex noises had his dick digging into his zipper.

"Tilt your head back so I can rinse," he ordered, while taking up the handheld sprayer. It took a while to get it free of suds, but she sat still for him, completely acquiescent under his hands.

No matter her denials, when she wasn't feeling threatened or in a morning snit, she was sweetly submissive, and she responded beautifully to her daddy's tender care.

"Conditioner or detangler?"

"The good stuff does both."

He held up both the bottles.

"I'll go with the detangler. Do you want me to do it, Daddy? After it's sprayed on it has to be rubbed in and combed through."

Which would prolong his torture.

"I'll do it," he said gruffly, doing as she described. Fifteen minutes later, it fell in a sleek curtain over the edge of the tub. To keep it out of the water, he twisted it and secured on top of her head once more. "We need to finish your bath and get you tucked in."

And end his torture.

He located the scrubby easily in the now soapy water. When he took her hand and washed her arm then raised it to wash underneath it, the back of his hand brushed her breast. He ignored her quickly indrawn breath and moved onto her other arm because he needed to get this done and take an ice-cold shower.

Next came her chest, which was all that remained above the waterline, until he began gently scrubbing her there and moving downward. Krista arched in response, and her rosy nipples peeped through the bubbles. He strove for a neutral expression, washing her as efficiently and non-sexually as if he were a monk, but the hard cock tenting his pants said otherwise. He must be a masochist at heart, or why would he continue this self-torture?

An inch before reaching the delta of tempting blonde curls, he stopped, passed over her middle, and moved down to safer territory—her legs. Bathing first her feet, then her slender calves, then behind her knees. He was running out of benign places to wash. He reminded himself she was operating on three hours sleep and had had an emotionally draining afternoon, not to mention blistered hands and sore muscles. As her daddy, it was his job to protect and care for her, not further complicate an already stressful day by rushing her into sex before she was ready, and before he'd had time to earn her trust.

With an ironclad lock on his control, he parted her thighs and glided the bath pouf gently between them. She made a little squeaking noise, and her body tensed beneath his hands, especially when he moved higher to wash the crease where her body met her thighs.

"Almost done," he murmured soothingly. "I'll be quick, but I want you to be as clean as a whistle everywhere."

For this next part, Sam discarded the scratchy pouf, which seemed too rough for her most delicate places, and lathered up his hand instead. Telling himself he'd get through this no matter how much he wanted her, and wait for the moment to be right, he slid his slick fingers over her pussy, the middle two dipping inside to cleanse her intimately. Krista surprised him with a broken cry, the sudden arching of her hips, her sudden movement sending another surge of water over the side of the tub and drenching him.

He glanced up finding her eyes closed and her face flushed from more than the steamy water. Breathing raggedly, she rolled her head against the rim and looked at him, her light blue eyes dark with unquenched desire even though she had just come. "Please, Daddy," was her soft, breathless plea. "Don't tease me anymore. I don't think I can bear it."

His iron control shredded as easily as paper.

He wrapped one hand behind her neck, the other around her waist, and pulled her half out of the water, not caring if he flooded the room. "I want you, Krista. But I also don't want to rush you."

"Due respect, Daddy. This bath has been the opposite of rushed, and more like slow, sensual torture."

His lips moved over hers, hungrily demanding, obliterating the last word before she could get it out. But her wanted more than kisses. His body craved all of her.

Setting her down on her knees, facing away from him, he guided her hands to the edge. "Hang on, darlin', we're finishing this, and then we will end this torture in my bed."

On his feet, he removed his soaked shirt, tearing at the buttons and practically ripping it down his arms, then yanked his boots off one at a time. Her eyes were on him, her head turned to look over her shoulder, and her body trembled ever so slightly. He wasn't sure if it was from excitement, or a chill on her wet skin, or trepidation, so he left his jeans on for now.

Kneeling once again, he picked up the pouf and, with an arm around her waist to keep her from slipping, ran it over her shoulders and down to the glistening roundness of her bottom. Only one intimacy remained.

"Bend forward, darlin'."

Her knees slipped a little as she leaned over the edge, and the squeak once again echoed in the small room. She was never in danger of falling, not with his arm clamped firmly around her waist, but he was quick to reassure her.

"I've got you, baby."

He scooped up a handful of bubbles and poured them over her lower back. When the sudsy trail traveled to her cleft and between the twin globes, he used two fingers to wash her there as well while she clung to the rounded edge of the tub with a white-knuckled death grip. It made him curious about her experience. Most of the time, she was shy and hesitant, blushing hot enough to set off the smoke alarms from a look or a comment, and especially a kiss. And she came with the merest of touches. This could be explained because it had been a while for her; she'd admitted that.

Deciding to put it to a test, he circled the tight ring with one finger then applied slight pressure. She sucked in a breath which became a whimper when he slowly sank in to the first joint.

"What about this, darlin'? Has any man claimed this treasure?"

"No," she exclaimed breathlessly. "Never."

"I will take great pleasure in initiating you. But not tonight."

Pressing steadily, he slid in just a bit more then withdrew.

Sam rinsed her free from soap and lifted her from the tub, setting her feet on the mat. He grabbed the bath sheet from the counter and enfolded her, his hands rubbing all over her curves as he dried her, but wishing fervently the towel wasn't between them.

He didn't linger long over this torture, and with a little pat on her lovely round backside, started her moving toward the door. In no time, he stripped off his pants, and with a splash much smaller than the prior two, Sam slipped into the tub.

"Hop in bed and wait for me. I'll only be a minute."

***

KRISTA CAUGHT A GLIMPSEof muscular thighs and rippling abs in the mirror before the side of the tub and soapy water blocked her review. As she watched him scrub his chest and arms, she wondered if he didn't realize, or simply didn't care that soap he was rubbing all over his glorious body would leave him smelling like a girl.

He didn't look up when he ordered, "Get in bed, Krista. But leave the towel. It's the only one I brought in."

With the fire instilled by his touch no longer burning inside her, she felt self-conscious of her nakedness and the way she come in seconds when he touched her. Before she unwound the towel from around her body, she reached up and loosened her hair, letting it fall down her back. It didn't cover her completely but was better than nothing, except she still had to give him the towel. Tossing it in the general direction of the counter, she whirled and practically ran from the room.

She'd battled shyness as a child and thought she'd conquered it long ago, but with Sam, it surged past her defenses at the most inopportune moments. It was silly to light out of there after what he'd already seen and done, and what he would soon do. He called her beautiful, which had calmed her earlier misgivings. Yet here she stood with them welling up inside her once again.

Why couldn't you take him at his word and just go with it?

"Instead of thinking things to death," she chided herself. "Maybe you should just relax and go with it."

A woof from the bed startled her. She walked to the edge and looked down into a pair of big brown eyes.

"What do you think, boy? You know Sam. Should I trust him to take the lead?"

Dallas woofed again, low and deep, as if he understood what she'd said.

"Is that a woof, yes, or no?"

His tongue lolled out and his tail thumped happily on the bed, of no help at all.

She laughed and scratched behind his ears, something he loved. So much, in fact, his ears lay flat and his mouth fell open, his tongue lolling to the side. His wet, slurpy tongue. Remembering she was naked, she backed away. Every inch of her was exposed, and she didn't want him to get any ideas about licking—something else he liked.

Krista drew down the covers, or she tried to, but with one hundred plus pounds of dog on the bed, he was hogging a lot of space

"Get down, buddy," she urged.

He simply stared at her without budging.

She tried again, while tugging on the comforter, hoping he'd either listen or take the hint. "Come on, boy. Get down."

"Dallas. Out." Sam's commanding tone as he issued the order made them both jump. Unlike her, the dog wasn't startled, and simply got down and walked out of the room.

"He looked sad," Krista said. "I think you hurt his feelings."

Sam closed the bedroom door behind his friend. As he sauntered toward her, she tried to take all of him in at once, but a few things stood out more than anything else. The way little droplets of water clung to the smattering of hair on his muscular chest, how the towel around his lean waist dipped low on one hip, and that he was more gorgeous than any man had the right to be.

"He'll get over it. He has a bed but refuses to use it and insists on sharing mine."

Krista didn't blame him. Who wouldn't prefer a huge, soft bed to snuggle up in, especially if Sam Golden was in it?

"I, on the other hand, would take a really long time and possibly therapy to get over his cold nose or wet tongue in places they didn't belong."

She took a step back and another as he drew near. "I was thinking the same thing. It's the reason I was playing tug-of-war with him over the covers."

Stopping in front of her, no more than an inch away, he reached around her and yanked the comforter clear off the bed. "We won't be needing this."

He stepped closer, his still damp chest hair grazing her nipples. She could feel the heat of his skin on hers. Then, his arms came around her and, like a hero from a romance novel, he swept her up, easily, as though she weighed nothing, and set her down in the middle of his big bed.

In the low light of the lamp on the nightstand, she saw him unknot the towel from around his waist and toss it aside. She got her first look at the proof of his desire, which she could only guess at up until now. She knew from the bulge in the front of his jeans he'd be long, but she hadn't imagined it would be so thick or intimidating. The last because her prior to lovers couldn't hold a candle to Sam in looks, confidence, experience, or sheer size.

When he put his knee on the bed and climbed in beside her, stretching out on his side, his upper body propped on a forearm, he leaned over her. The soft curves of her body molded to his hard contours. He was hot, in more ways than the word had definitions. Her heart raced as rapidly as when she had to jog the three blocks to class when she overslept, and her palms turned sweaty. A common occurrence when she was nervous—hardly an attractive trait.

She grabbed the sheet, discreetly drying her hands, but also to keep her from leaping off the bed and bunking with Dallas, or from jumping Sam's bones.

"You're nervous," he murmured while brushing her hair off her cheek and smoothing back a few unruly strands. "What can I do to help with that?"

"Turn off the light?"

"No hiding. Besides, you're beautiful, and I want to see all of you."

"Maybe I'll just close my eyes, then."

"Also hiding. I want to see your responses, and your blue eyes are very expressive. Anything else?"

"Kiss me?"

He grinned. "That I can definitely do. But before we go further, we need to discuss protection."

"I'm on the depo shot, but haven't been with anyone since Bre—"

Two fingers covered her mouth. "If you must refer to the asshole, call him that, but not here. I don't want another man in my bed." He released her lips, and those same two fingers stroked along her jaw and lightly over her cheek. "I have one more question."

Her eyes came up, meeting his, which were warm with a smoldering passion.

"Who's your daddy, baby?"

She answered automatically, "You are."

"That's right, which means you can relax with me, darlin', and be assured I intend to make this good for both of us."

His head descended, and there was no more discussion as he took her mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss. The hand at her jaw trailed down her throat to her chest and then curled beneath her breast. He furthered the kiss by parting her lips, and the sweep of his tongue coincided with the slow drag of his thumb over her already taut nipple.

Krista's back bowed off the bed, pressing her breast into his hand as she sought more. That easily, the burning need he'd stoked in the tub rekindled.

He moved lower, his mouth replacing the thumb on her nipple, and he opened wide, his tongue swirling around the hard peak. His fingers found the curls shielding her pussy. They threaded through and cupped the needy, wet, achy place between her thighs. The same two that had gently touched her lips and then rolled her nipple gave her more pleasure as they slid through her sex, taking a moment to tease her clit with little flicks before sinking into her weeping center.

A moan of complete and utter bliss broke free of her lips.

"Un-uh, darlin'. You'll wait for me this time."

He shifted on top of her, his hips aligning with hers as the hard, heavy length of his cock ran along the seam of her pussy. He reclaimed her lips, the heat index of the kiss going from warm to inferno as he fed hungrily.

Krista hooked one of her legs around his hip, giving him plenty of room and the right angle for the head of his shaft to find home. The tip entered then she felt the most amazing stretch as he sank into her wetness.

"You're hot and tight, baby," he ground out, "and feel absolutely incredible surrounding me."

His words seemed to spark a ferocity to their mating. Their tongues entwined, her hips rose to meet each thrust, and two pairs of hands that seemed to be everywhere at once moved with defined purpose while their bodies melded with fiery heat.

Sam's thumb found her clit in the midst of it all.

"I'm getting close, darlin'. You feel too damn good."

"I'm already there, Daddy."

Groaning into her mouth, he surged inside her and didn't relent until she trembled beneath him and her cries of pleasure filled the air. Then she clung to his shoulders, her face buried in his neck as he thrust hard and planted deep, and rode the shuddering waves of his climax along with him.

When he still, she absorbed most of his weight which she didn't mind at all because it came with his face buried in her hair, his warm breath on her neck, the scent of him tickling her nose, and, of course, his powerful body surrounding her. Though it was a little hard to breathe, she ignored it, wanting to soak it all in. Unfortunately, he rolled off her onto his side. Once he'd settled, his long arm hooked around her waist and pulled her against him, turning her until he was spooned against her back.

Who'd have thought Sheriff Sam was a snuggler?

When the room was quiet, their breathing returned to normal, his low drawl disturbed the silence. "Do you want to clean yourself up, or do you want Daddy to do?"

"I don't want to move," she replied, halfway to dreamland already. "I don't even know if I can."

He chuckled and leaned over her stretching to switch off the light, proving that at least one of them could move.

"Sleep, little bit. I've never minded a little mess, and we can see to that in the morning."

But they never made it that long.