Page 22 of Fake Autumn Crush

His hand plunges between us again, this time lightly teasing my clit with quick upward swipes of his thumb. The rest of his fingers hold me in place as he thrusts deeper. "Is this too hard, baby?"

"No. I want more."

"Good. Because this hot pussy is so fucking sexy it's driving me wild." He blinks, then asks, "I've never spoken this way to anyone. Should I watch my mouth, angel?"

"No." My fingers dig into him. "I love it. Say anything and everything."

"My huge cock feels incredible being squeezed by your tight, wet pussy," he growls, his eyes glazed over with lust. "Need to fill you with my come. Need to feel this sexy pussy gush for me so I can fuck you harder."

Oh my… The pressure starts to take hold, as if pressing me down into the floor.

"Come for me, beautiful." The floorboards creak, the fire crackles, and I can hear the wet slapping sounds between us. “Let go." His forehead drops to mine. "Fucking hell, every time you gasp, it's driving me crazy, angel."

The tether holding me to the planet snaps and I scream, squirming under him in complete awe of the intensity of these feelings and the force of the climax churning through me like a tropical storm.

"Fuck, yes," Sam groans, thrusting harder and faster, drilling me roughly into the floor, trapping me with his passion.

I'm still coming as he groans, eyes flashing brightly in the firelight as he pumps his release into me. Every burst of warmth makes me tingle, every groan and grunt filling me with even more satisfaction.

Sam slumps, then lies beside me, wrapping me in his thick arms. He's silent for a moment as we catch our breath. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I've never talked like that before. I didn't know I had that in me."

"I loved it." Propping myself up on an elbow, I kiss his cheek. "It was hot. Every single word you said…" My head shakes. "Probably inappropriate for your songs and terrible for your brand, but I'm going to treasure them forever."

He cups my face with his palms, staring into my eyes. "I love that you get me, Julia."

There’s that word again. Love.

Yup…kaboom.

12

SAM

The main room is a blizzard of paper. Pages ripped from notebooks, or torn from various legal pads – white, yellow, even an odd purple one that I found on sale last year.

I was up half the night writing. Usually, inspiration doesn't strike for two or three days, once the quietness of the trees has fully settled into me and I feel truly alone with my thoughts. But Julia is magic.

My brain and heart are tangled up together as I remember what we shared last night. That wasn't sex. It was two souls bonding. My mind is on fire for her. The evidence of it is pouring out of me.

My girl unlocked something so deep inside me I didn’t even know it was there. My animal instincts. My need to possess. My need to claim– well, as long as it’s with permission and understanding. As much as I’d like to think I’m enlightened, I still have those urges.

But with the perfect woman, everything is balanced between man and animal. It’s a new dimension of my thinking that’s conjuring up endless trains of thought. I’m sure it will eventually result in some fascinating new music.

I love the way Julia already instinctively knows when I can and cannot be disturbed. If she’s unsure, she hangs out in the other room reading until I tell her it’s safe.

“I smell coffee,” I call toward the kitchen. “Is there any left for that idiot songwriter making a mess in the living room?”

“Maybe.” She comes out with two mugs, setting them carefully on a side table away from the papers. “I assume this is all top secret?”

“This? No, not at all.” I wave to some stacks of paper on the floor. “But if you see fragments in a pile like that, please keep the pile together.”

“I’ll only use the back door, then,” she laughs. “A stiff breeze would ruin everything.”

Julia looks around at another pile. “What’s this?” She holds up a ripped piece of paper that reads, F#, A, E. Another says, D, A, Bm, G.

I chuckle. “When I find a song with a great vibe to it, I jot down the chords to use as a starting point. I have no idea what song those will end up in, but it’s better than staring at a blank wall, right?”

She nods. “Do a lot of hit songs use the same chords?”