“He’s everyone’s kind of man,” said Dakota. “And that’s the problem. He’s never around.”
I wanted to go on. To tell her how our friend’s track record led to him being abused more than used by our beloved superiors. I wanted to talk about the in-depth conversations I’d had with Briggs, the ones about getting him out, about forming his own mercenary company rather than work for the ones sanctioned by the US government.
But I couldn’t talk about any of that. Not now, anyway. And I wouldn’t want to, even if I could.
Besides… this was a supposed to be a first date.
“Enough of all that,” I countered. “What do you think of the house?”
Sammara swallowed her last sip of wine. I watched her mouth curl into an uncontrolled smile.
“I did some research,” she said. “Your house was built in 1852 by a man named Augustus Emilio. He was a banker turned investment maven turned art dealer. He died without heirs in the 1880’s.”
“Wow,” Dakota whistled. “You found that all out in a single afternoon?”
“Yes, and it wasn’t too hard. Anyway, the place sat empty for God knows how long. Which is both good and bad, because while there’s a lot of environmental damage, from what I can tell the interior is nearly flawless. It still has almost all the original fixtures, and—”
Leaning in quickly, I kissed her. It happened so abruptly her lips were still moving against mine, whatever sentence she was about to finish trailing off into a soft moan.
I slowed the moment down as I probed deeper, slipping my tongue against hers. Sammara’s eyes — which had initially gone wide — drooped back to a sensuous, half-closed gaze, her blue irises unfixed as she began kissing me back.
The world around us dissolved away. The restaurant, the people… for a moment nothing existed but this woman’s lips, her mouth, her beautiful face cupped gently in my one hand. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to go on kissing her, right through dinner and the ride home and straight back to bed again.
Finally I pulled back, leaving her flushed and dreamy and breathless. When Dakota’s fingers tilted her chin in his direction, she barely noticed. She was still looking at me.
Then he kissed her… and I saw her whole body go limp in his arms.
Visions of Erika flashed through my mind — fevered images of our shared ex girlfriend in various states of bliss and euphoria. Her face looked a lot like Sammara’s did right now. Soft. Lineless. Lost in the hedonistic pleasure of being kissed, touched, loved…
Erika…
There were a lot of things about this woman and Erika that were similar. Her intelligence, for one. Her sarcastic sense of humor, the fire that burned behind her eyes that always seemed to indicate an inherent lust for life.
Come to think of it, Sammara had virtually all the same traits Erika did. And of course, physically? They were both equally gorgeous. Like blonde, Nordic goddesses.
It’s almost uncanny.
Sitting there watching Dakota kiss her, I felt that strange twist of excitement and satisfaction again. It was something I hadn’t felt in years. Something I never realized how much I missed.
Taking her together. Doubling up on her…
The memories were vivid. Erika, spread out naked across my bed. Dakota on the other side, undoing his belt. The three of us, smiling that shared, secret smile. The one reserved only for us.
Drawing straws. Flipping coins, to see who went first.
God, had it really been that long?
Entering her from behind, while he took her from the front. Listening to that first gasp. The sounds she made…
I let myself get lost in the flashbacks. Even while watching now.
Passing her back and forth… over and over again…
When they eventually broke apart, Sammara was red all over. Her white skin was pink, her expression ablaze with arousal. I smirked at her knowingly. Silently I dared her to go another week without bedding me. Without bedding us…
She blinked and came back to Earth, almost like she remembered what she was about to say. “I— I was…”
“Relax,” I shushed her. “Take it slow. We’ve got time.”