Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe the only thing holding me back from letting down my guard and really pursuing Sam was me.
I watched her deny at least twenty guys on that app, and each one appeared to be the same flavor, just in a different colored suit. Perhaps she’s bored, like I was before I figured it out. Before I realized the things I needed to make me feel like me.
It’s clear in the way she responds to me–her body’s natural reactions.
Her big doe eyes, her throbbing pulse, the pungent scent of fear and want, wafting in the air. Sam wants the excitement.
She craves it.
Which could mean she may very well desire what I have to give.
My heart swells in my chest, the idea that things don’t have to be a desire but could be a reality, making my blood soar.
Tonight, I’ll make it happen. Find a way to tell her everything. Show her everything, and then go from there. It’s been daunting to be lost in what-ifs, what could bes, and maybes. At least after tonight, I’ll know.
We both will.
I unlock the door to the spare room. There were plenty of times we had to have sleepovers up here while our parents worked late into the night. Most of the time, we would stuff ourselves with popcorn and watch the latest Disney channel movie, or play board games. On some occasions, after Willow fell asleep, or got lost in her phone, talking to her latest girlfriend, Sam and I would wander the halls.
We’d look into the few rooms yet to be renovated and talk about what we imagined happened in the past. The types of people who would come stay here. We’d even come up with stories when we found little knickknacks.
One of the last times we searched the rooms, Sam tripped and fell hard into an old dresser. She’s always been a little clumsy, but that was the day she solidified the “Bambi” nickname. I laughed after helping her up and used it for the first time.
“Come on, Bambi, get yourself together.”
Her brown eyes flare before she chucks something small and round at my face. “Shut up. The carpets are crumpled. You should have caught me.”
A heavy rock of guilt drops into my stomach as I bend to pick up the object. It’s a dainty gold ring. Plain without all the frills, but on the inside, a script runs across the band.
My lucky charm.
“You’re right, Sam.” I take a step toward her and pull her soft hand toward me. She stands perfectly still, her shuddered breathing the only sound in the room. I slip the ring onto her thumb and twirl it around. “A promise to always catch you when you fall. Both physically and in life. My best friend to the end.”
I winced when I heard my own words out loud, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. She was all bright smiles and batting eyelashes. Her aura lit me up from the inside and her response fueled my decision to follow dreams I shoved away as just that–dreams.
“And as your best friend, I promise to always support anything you do. I know you were meant for bigger things outside of these walls, and I’m excited to be standing on the sidelines, cheering you on.”
With a weary sigh, I turn on the water. She still wears the ring. It’s on the middle finger of her right hand. Not once have I ever seen her take it off, which, in a way, irritates me more when I truly consider what it could mean.
I should have trusted her with this part of my life sooner. Saved myself the torture of wondering what we would be like. What we’d really be like.
After testing the water, I step inside and try to force my body to relax. To not think of everything that’s happened today. But the more I try to empty my thoughts, the harder I have to work.
To be honest, I’m only so strong when it comes to Sam. Always have been. It’s the only part I like about having to leave for games and training–the forced space. It gives me time to breathe, to not overwhelm myself with wanting to forgo my fears and fall into her.
The hot water pelts into my tight muscles. I expect the pent-up tension to begin melting, but when it doesn’t, I attempt to focus on the heat. On the way the warm droplets glide over my back and down my legs.
It isn’t enough.
Nothing is enough anymore. I need a release. A moment of peace. Even if just for a second. Fuck.
With a fleeting admission, I give in to the blood soaring through my body and drop one hand to the base of my cock and lift the other to grab the top of the shower door. It’s hard, pulsing angrily under my fingertips from the multiple times I’ve put myself in teasing situations with Sam today.
Starting slowly, I move my hand up and down, closing my eyes against the instant pleasure. Visions of Sam’s long brown hair appear–it’s whipping in the wind as she runs through the woods, her feet moving her in and out of the cluster of trees.
The beast in my chest rears its head, spiking my adrenaline so high I feel my pulse in the tips of my ears. My hand moves faster as I envision closing the space between us.
She’s easy to catch, and even easier to subdue. I have her on the soft forest floor in seconds, her clothes ripped from her body in another. I plan to take my time and worship every inch of her. Because in reality, I wouldn’t be sweet and slow. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
I would fucking devour her.
“Samantha.” Her name is a hiss through clenched teeth, the warm euphoric ball winding tight in my spine as I move my mouth down her stomach.
Her mouth parts while soft whimpers escape into the night air. Only the faint noises sound too clear. Too real.
I peel my eyes open to mere slits, and the visual that replaces my fantasy is surreal. Sam is standing at the door, her head leaning against the frame, her knuckles white from clenching the handle so tightly.
She’s not moving but standing still as though she isn’t sure if she heard what she thought she did.
My insides begin humming as I consider testing the limit. To see what she’ll do when she knows without a shadow of a doubt I said it.
“Samantha.” It’s a husky whisper, but I know she hears me.
Her hand drops from the knob, and slowly, oh so fucking slowly, she turns. Her eyes trail from the ground and across the floor until they move up my frame and stop on my lowered gaze. Steam has filled the small room, clouding the shower now, but I know she can make out where my hand is, how fast it’s moving.
Sam’s mouth parts, her lashes fluttering when we make eye contact. From here, I can see her jaw clamp down the moment the want hits her.
She only lasts a second longer before her eyes squeeze shut and she bites down on her lip so hard, I’m sure she’s drawn blood. Rotating back around, she grabs onto the door handle but doesn’t move to leave, just simply stands. Like she’s waiting.
Oh, Bambi.
Lightning begins to unfurl in my back, the electricity burning through my limbs as my orgasm comes. It barrels through me, and I have to bite into my raised arm to dull the roar vibrating my chest into a muffled growl.
By the time my eyes find Sam, her forehead is pressed against the door, her thighs pressed together. It winds me up all over again, and in a split second, I make the decision.
Fuck waiting.
I push the glass open and grab my towel, but in the next blink, the front door to the room is open and Samantha is stumbling over herself, a whispered, “Sorry” floating behind her.
