Tied to Sam Ch. 02

'Sit up with me,' he says as he hauls us both upright.

I shudder again as more of it rushes down and out, onto Sam.

'Messy.'

'Mmmm. Nice,' Sam grips my hips and moves me over him.

It's definitely squishy. But nice. Really very nice. He's still so hard and big inside me. My breath catches in my throat as he pulls me around him with his hands digging into my hips, controlling how we're moving together. I scratch my nails through the short hair at the nape of his neck, making him grunt and hold me tighter. We lift and rock and push together. I wonder again at how strong Sam is, at how he can seem to lift and hold me so easily, sitting back on his heels like this.

He increases the pace. Quicker. Harder. Driving us, fiercely. Breaking down any sense of separateness, consuming us, creating us. I drop my head to his shoulder, unable to hold it up, losing myself.

'Let's do this for the rest of our lives, Cora.'

What? Eyes, mouth, heart - all of them crack open.

I try to raise my head but can't. And then he's re-arranging his arms, one firm around my shoulders, the other hard around my bum, clutching me to him as he slides us back to lie on the bed, holding me in place around his cock. The sheets are cool beneath me. I turn my head to find Sam, to find any part of him I can reach with my mouth. Lick and bite at his ear; my mind struggling to turn over his words.

Sam's setting a relentless, almost furious rhythm, air tumbling out of his mouth, hot over my neck and shoulder. I'm full with him, his love, my love; brimming with it, anticipating the freedom of escape but greedy for more. For longer; deeper. I pull my arms straight and tight above my head, fingers splayed, pressing my thighs wider, giving him everything of me.

'Sam,' sounding like the warning it is.

Urgent, to make him understand where I am.

'I know,' the words wrenched from his chest. 'Cora.'

He levers up a little, his rhythm falters. We're both there, together, toes gripping onto the edge, teetering, Sam growling into my ear; taut.

And then - the perfect moment - no time or place; just us, before we're falling, falling so far and fast. Soaring. Tumbling and twisting. His voice, whispering nothing and everything, as if it's the last time he'll ever be able to tell me. The drag and pull inside me is sweet agony. Too much and not enough.

I arch my back, lifting him up, forcing his eyes to open in surprise. He pulls at my hands, bringing them lower over my head so he can grip them there, his jaw set, showing me no mercy but all of his love. He pins me down, grinding into me, his head dropping down with the effort.

'Fuck, Sam. Fuck,' I'm almost sobbing.

He heaves; bites down on his lip, growling, almost shouting, flooding me hot and fast.

Then slides to my side, gasping for air. My hips follow his, not wanting to relinquish him, and I tilt them more, to stay with him, his leg hooked heavy over mine. I twist my neck to look at him, his face side-on to me. Eyes half closed, his lips parted and red, a pink flush painting his cheeks and neck. Blissed out. Beautiful.

It's not until he wriggles his fingers out from my grip that I come round. I've lost track of time. I pull my arms down from over my head. Sam's still looking flushed, so I couldn't have been away for very long. He looks over at me, his eyes still a bit glazed.

'That -,'

I drop two fingers to his lips.

'No words for it, Sam,' I whisper.

+++

It's raining when we wake up, smears of rain sliding down the window, dull in the dove grey light of a Manchester morning. Oh Manchester, this is how you say goodbye to me. Huh.

We pack my belongings into Sam's car, the rain unceasing, leaving us both sweaty and wet, and not in a good way. Sam goes out to get us coffee and breakfast from the greasy spoon while I shower, jumping in after me, but not before he grinds his hips to mine and caresses my lips with his, arms either side of my head and the cool tiles pressing into my back.

Once I'm dressed, I wander into every emptied-out room, tiny moments, memories, of living here filtering through my mind, until I hear Sam calling for me from my bedroom. We pack up the last things and Sam carries them out to the car.

At least the landlord turns up on time and is making his way through the house with his clipboard and phone when Kam rolls up looking like he hasn't got to bed yet since we had dinner last night.

'Alright then?' he peers at me.

'Yeah. All good, Kam. Just need to clean up in the kitchen and put the rubbish out. The landlord's upstairs now, doing his inspection.'

'That wasn't what I was asking, and you know it.' He licks his lips at me.

'Fuck, Kam. You're so bad. I'm not telling you a thing.'

But it's a hopeless appeal to his better nature, because he doesn't have one, and he leans in to me.

'Honestly, you two look like you're still fuck drunk. Did you get any sleep at all?'

'Kam, your mind and mouth live in the gutter you know that? And yeah - actually we got a lot of sleep, as it turns out. Doesn't take all night for it to feel this good.'

And for once, it looks like I've managed to stun Kam into silence.

'Have I finally shut you up?' I tease him.

He smiles, and I see that sliver of sadness in his eyes again before it fades.

'That man loves you so fucking much, you do understand that, Cora?' he's jabbing his arm out in the direction of the front door, beyond which Sam is presumably packing the car. 'Because if you don't, I'm going to be so very disappointed in you.'

I almost trip backwards; what Kam's saying - how he's saying it - is so unexpected.

'Are you and Josh breaking up? What is it?' I ask, but from the look in Kam's eyes, I take it Sam is behind me now, back in the house.

Kam gives a tiny shake of his head, then smiles at both of us; his best, bright smile.

'Right. Why don't you and Sam get going? I can wait here 'til the landlord's done, finish it up with him. The driving's not going to be much fun in this.'

I tut. 'Come on, it'll be bright sunshine once we get south of Knutsford.'

We enjoy our in-joke together.

I show him the sets of keys on the kitchen table - all the sets we've accumulated over the year of living here with four of us sharing, and several additional sets for various boyfriends and girlfriends, including Sam. And then Kam's hustling us out of the house, hugging us both hard, and watching us as we open up the car doors. I hesitate, expecting Sam to throw the car keys to me.

'Nah. Get in Cora. I'm not making you drive today.'

We fiddle with the seatbelts. He half turns to me.

'Let's get out of Dodge, Sam.'

His mouth ticks up, dimpling his cheek. I loosen my seatbelt to lean over and kiss him, drinking up the warmth in his blue eyes. He kisses me back. Long and deep, pressing a hand up my neck into my hair. Pulling on it. Then pulling back. Exhaling, a look of wry regret on his face. He puts the car in gear, flicking his eyes up to check in the mirror.

'Let's go, then.'

Traffic is light, but the rain persists as Sam drives us south, down the A34 with its mix of boxy red-brick houses, brash bright superstores and petrol stations, slowing us down for the traffic lights, picking up speed in-between. Earlier than predicted, as we join the M56 at Cheadle, the rain stops. He flicks off the windscreen wipers.

'Maybe it'll be a dry drive,' I say, a bit startled at the sound of my voice; the first time either of us has spoken since setting off.

'Mmm. Maybe. But I think the forecast was rain pretty much everywhere today.'

He doesn't like driving in the rain much.

'Really?'

'Yup. You can check if you like,' and he glances down to where his phone is charging between the seats.

Mine is tucked away in my bag on the back seat, so I pick up Sam's phone and unlock it. A new message from Mary is sitting on the screen. "Well?" is all it seems to say. Odd. I ignore it, and open the weather app. He's right. Rain is forecast for the whole day, and for most of England.

'Yep - rain everywhere. Oh well, at least we're not in any great rush. We can take our time.'

'Mmhm.'

I look over at him, but he's concentrating on the road. I lean forwards again to turn some music on. Whatever Sam was last playing will do. Inevitably, Paul Weller. "You Do Something To Me." Sam's white boy music. Except I don't mind it, not really. Especially when he sings this song to me. Every word of it. In his nice throaty voice. New spots of rain drop onto the windshield as the opening chords to the song fill the car. Loud. He must have been listening to it this loudly when he drove up yesterday. His hand lands on my thigh, relaxed and warm.

He's smiling.

I smile back, even though he's looking straight ahead at the road. We listen. I watch the world slip by through the windows. The song's coming to an end when his hand shifts.

'Last night -,' he begins.

'Was the best ever,' I finish.

His hand flinches, moving high enough to make me hold my breath and long enough to bring a flush of heat to my belly. And then retreats.

We drive on, vivid snatches of last night - his breathing and whispering, hard in my ear; the quivering in my thighs; the power of Sam's hips - flashing between us as we slip underneath the overhead gantry signs, rhythmic punctuations in our progress home, the motorway humming underneath us.

He shifts around in his seat, fidgeting. When I twist my head to look at him, he turns his mouth up at one corner, sliding his eyes to mine briefly, before returning them to the road. I touch the back of his neck, lightly, slipping a finger under the gold chain there.

'Hmm, not a good idea if you want us to stay on the road,' he warns, and we both laugh, letting out some of the tension.

I drop my hand back to my lap. I don't want us to crash and die in a tangled wreck of metal and blood on the M6, after all.

As we tick through the boring miles we talk in bursts. Sam tells me about his flatmate Danny's latest get-rich-quick scheme; how his brother Sean is taking up running and wants Sam to do a half marathon with him; his suspicions that my sister Alice is losing interest in going to college. I'm part-way through recounting one of Kam's more outrageous stories of catching two city councillors going at it in the service lift at a black-tie event he worked last week, when Sam starts pulling the car over to the left-hand lane. I pause.

'Need a break,' he explains, flicking the indicator again to pull us onto the exit ramp and chewing at the inside of his cheek.

He backs us into a parking space, letting the engine die as he sits there, stretching his back and arms.

'Losing concentration,' he says, suddenly grinning and pulling at his jeans.

I raise my eyebrows.

'Can't stop thinking about last night,' he adds, landing a quick, warm, kiss on my forehead.

'We could get a room.' I indicate the low-rise hotel squatting next door to the service station we've pulled into.

His face is still turned to mine. I watch and wait. It's as though he's running through what he might say - then rejects it, simply flashing me another smile, pushing the car door open. I watch him stretch his back as he stands up, ignoring the light rain that's still falling. We make our way towards the ugly collection of buildings in front of us, and there he goes again, lacing his fingers into mine in public.

Huh.

As I emerge from the bathrooms, shaking the water from my hands, he's waiting for me, propped up against a pillar, tapping at his phone.

'Want a coffee or anything? I do. I need to walk around for a bit.'

'Do you want me to drive?'

He shakes his head, pushing himself off the pillar, shoving his phone in his back pocket. We buy coffee for him, water for both of us, an apple each, and take it all outside to stand under an overhang, sheltering from the drizzle along with a couple of hard-core smokers.

'So - this might be a bit Groundhog Day, Sam, but - when are we going to decorate your bedroom? Before or after we go to Portugal?'

He chokes on his coffee a little.

'Umm -,' and he sort of huffs, like he's been caught out.

'What?' I ask.

'Nothing. Just went down the wrong way,' he seems to recover himself.

I frown. Perhaps I'm not the only one of us who's gone all sentimental over what Sam painted on his bedroom last summer. Lots of thoughts crowd into my brain at that moment. The capital letters painted in white on his blue wall in clear, neat brushstrokes. The heat that had practically burned off him as he'd stood behind me while I'd taken it in. The words themselves; "I'm in love with you Cora." The way his hand had pulled at mine, silently asking for my response. Whether Danny has ever seen them in the year he's been sharing Sam's flat, or not. It's possible he hasn't. Sam usually keeps the door closed.

I'm not sure how long these thoughts have occupied me for when I twist the cap off one of the bottles of water and take a sip.

'I think I'm going to be sad to paint over those words, Sam.'

He slides an arm around my waist, warm on my skin, and hugs me to his side, wordlessly. We stay that way as he finishes his coffee, his fingers playing over my exposed hip bone. The two smokers drag their last, drop the butts into the metal can on the wall and take their leave. I take another sip of water. Nearly spit it out at the firm touch of Sam's lips on the side of my neck, the stubble he didn't shave off this morning rasping and tickling me.

'Sam! Have you been taken over by an alien life force or something? All these public displays of affection, huh? What's going on?'

'How do you expect me to keep my hands off you, Cora, wearing these jeans like this?'

He hooks a thumb into my jeans which are - it's true - sitting pretty low on my hips and, yeah, I know he really likes my hips.

'It's difficult enough to think straight after last night, without these,' and he gives my waistband a much firmer tug.

'Hmm. I rather like you like this, Sam. Maybe we should spend more time apart?' I tease him.

'Very funny,' he crinkles his face at me. Drops his empty cup in the bin.

I hold up an apple to him. 'How else can I tempt you to wickedness?'

He snorts, snatches the apple out of my fingers and takes a big bite.

'I've already fallen, remember? I'm the one who's lapsed here.'

I smile and reach up to touch the gold cross he wears, raising an eyebrow. He shrugs.

'Under my evil spell, then?'

'I'd say so, wouldn't you?'

Again, that drop to his voice. What is it? It's unnerving. He looks all soft and vulnerable and blue-eyed and cute. Yeah, you're cute, Sam. Deal with it.

'And what about me? Am I under your spell?'

I know it's cruel, to try to force it out of him, whatever it is he's holding back, but the words have escaped my mouth before I can bite them back. He's pinking up, but there's a flash in his eyes too. Perhaps he's going to meet the challenge? But he just chews at the apple.

'Sam?'

He's still got a firm hold of my waistband and when I pull away slightly, he retains his grip, not letting me move away.

'What's this?' I ask him, gesturing at where his hand is dug in deep between my jeans and my flesh. 'Not letting me go?'

He just shakes his head, chewing his way through another bite of the apple. I lean away from him, but he's actually, really not letting go. Not even when a new smoker appears, flicking at her lighter, bending her head to it, fag pinched between her lips. Sam's eyes slide over to take her in, slide back to mine.

'Wishing you had some of that rope?'

'Hey, we have a pact about that Cora.'

I watch his eyes widen, indignant. Like I say, he doesn't like the whole tying-me-to-him thing to be brought up in daylight. But he can't stop his eyes from flicking down to my waist.

'It worked before, though, didn't it?'

He blinks, and I break free from him, taking off at a jog across the car park, laughing, dodging the puddles, breathless and wet by the time I reach the car. I expect him to unlock the doors, but it doesn't happen. I turn to look for him. He's positively sauntering, looking like there's no rush at all. That it's not raining harder now. That I'm not standing at the car, impatient to get in. I put one hand on my hip, elbow out, but he just raises the car key up, holding it between his thumb and finger.

'Waiting to get in?' he asks, his mouth twitching.

'Uh, duh. Yes.'

'You can't tease me like this and not expect to pay the price.'

'The price?'

And I'm truly astonished when he presses my back up against the car, pushing into me with his hips and chest and mouth. For a kiss that's long and hot and - umm - full of love. Out here, in public, in broad daylight. For the second day in a row.

He wraps one hand into my hair, the other fans out over the small of my back, fingertips dipping down into my jeans. We kiss in the rain. Me expecting him to stop at any moment. But he doesn't. I rise up on my tiptoes. Whether it's that, or the kiss, he makes a noise of approval that turns into a burst of repressed laughter as I flutter my fingers over the back of his shoulders and up into his hair. He breaks off, buries his head against my neck, surrendering to the feel of my hands and mouth on his skin, kissing me, murmuring words I can't make out. And then they begin to crystalise.

'Sam, what?'

He pulls his head back, presses his forehead to mine. Whispers; 'Marry me?'

My eyes, mouth, heart - all fall wide, wide open.

'What?'

'Marry me? Cora? I - I, uh, I know it's - maybe it's too soon, and -,' he steps back from me, but I grab at the front of his shirt.

'No.'

He falters; stops, drops his gaze away.

'What -,'

'No, I mean, no, don't move away like -,' I yank his shirt, pulling him closer, my heart hammering and leaping.

Sam's looking confused, as well he might. I take a deep breath. Reach up to touch his mouth.

'Say it again.'

He blinks, lifts his eyes to mine, rain running down his face.

'Marry me, Cora.'

'Yes.'

I think this is another perfect moment. Watching Sam's eyes fill with his look of love. And delight. And relief. And a whole load of other emotions I can't keep up with. The things he said last night - remembered now, falling into place.

'If you're sure,' he finally starts to talk again. 'I know it's probably too soon after college, and I know you want -,'

'Sam, I said yes. Yes!' I'm laughing and fall against him.

He stumbles; we both stumble, until he finds his footing and stands us both up, firm on the ground. I tug at his shirt, drawing him closer, until I'm backed up against the car.

'Kiss me back, Sam Connolly.'

He does. Slowly and deliberately. Until we're starting to shiver from the rain.

'We should get in the car.'

I pull out the towels, still damp from this morning, from a bag on the back seat and we dry ourselves off as best we can.

'Nice timing, Sam,' I tease him, watching him rub at his hair.

He drops the towel in my lap and pulls me to his face. Kisses the end of my nose, his mouth ticking up.

'I thought I was going to do it last night, but - I don't know. There was a lot already going on for you. Your last night in Manchester and all that. It didn't feel right.'

I give him a look.

'But the Welcome Break service station north of Warwick - just perfect?'

He lifts his chin, just a fraction.

'Yeah, but you know me Cora. Not that good at this sort of thing.'

'I disagree,' I offer, picking the towel out of his lap.

'You're being kind again.'

'Yep. I plan on being kind to you for the rest of my life, Sam.'

That makes him grin silly. I give him a kiss, kneeling up in my seat, hands on his shoulders.

'Shame there's so much more driving to do,' he mutters when I release him.

'I dunno, Sam. It gives us a bit of time to get used to the idea.'