His First Surrender (Stonewall Investigations Miami 3)

My grip tightened. My legs spread wider and my head fell back as the orgasm hit me. I unloaded onto the floor, loud splats echoing through the large bathroom, my breaths filling the space of silence, reflecting how fast my heart rate shot up.

I looked down at the mess. It looked like I had saved up an entire month’s load. Fantasies with Sam hit differently. There was something about him. It was that smile of his… it was his entire being. I cleaned up after myself with a smile on my face, continuing to paint dirty thoughts of Sam.

The smile stayed on my face as I got ready for the last-minute date.

A date. Fucking hell.

My brow arched like the crest of a wave as I buttoned up my shirt, thinking back to the last time I’d been excited about going out with someone. This felt foreign to me. I’d been used to keeping things with as few strings as possible, and that meant dates were a very rare thing for me. Dating required conversation, and conversation required connecting which in turn required opening up to a certain degree.

I didn’t do open. I kept my shit to myself. Fuck everyone else—the cross in my life had been given to me and was my burden to bear, and that was the end of that. No need to bring anyone else into my crap.

I walked around the bed and stepped into my closet, going to the shelves that held my jeans. I pulled out a crisp, dark pair and pulled them up, realizing that I’d left off my underwear by the time I got up to my knees and not caring enough to reverse course. I pulled on the jeans, grateful these were the button kind as opposed to using a zipper, which always made things extra precarious when going commando.

I checked myself out in the tall mirror hanging up between my jackets and my wall of shoes. The shirt was short-sleeved, my sleeve tattoo appearing extra bright underneath the white lights of my closet. I rolled each sleeve up once and then did the same to the cuffs of my jeans. I popped open the top two buttons of my shirt, showing off some of my chest and a flash of the golden necklace I wore.

The drive to pick up Sam was spent thinking about where I’d take him. By the time I pulled up to his apartment building, I’d managed to snag us reservations at Oceanside Luna. I waited for him to come down, feeling myself suddenly grow nervous. Surprised at myself, I took a deep breath. When I spotted him coming down the stairs, his silhouette appearing on every floor as he passed by the windows, I grew even more nervous. I was thrown all the way back to being a seventeen-year-old and waiting outside my date’s house, wondering where the hell the night would take us, a list of endless and magical possibilities playing out in my head.

The door opened and I was hit with his cologne first, and then came the cheerful but slightly nervous-sounding “Hey, hey, hey!”

He smelled great. Like pine woods and lavender fields and rose petals. I got an even bigger whiff when I leaned in and stole a kiss, his eyes opening wide before I shut mine.

“Hey,” I replied, sitting back in my seat, leaving a slightly dumbstruck look across Sam’s face. He adjusted his glasses before fumbling with the seat belt. He swallowed loudly and appeared to be sinking farther and farther into the bucket seat, as if the red leather had been replaced with quicksand.

He’s not wearing a belt.

“You okay?” I asked, a smirk still playing across my face as I started to drive.

“Yup. Yeah, doing great. It’s just not every day I get picked up in a Corvette and kissed by, well, in gaming terms, I guess you’d be like the final boss. The impossible catch.”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing impossible about me.”

“I beg to differ.” He looked over the thick rim of his glasses, his eyes catching the light of some passing streetlamps. With all this talk about me being impossible, it was really Sam who felt like the unreal one. “So what’s on the schedule for tonight?”

“The stand-up tickets fell through. I’ve got us a table at Oceanside Luna instead. Ever had it?”

“Are you joking right now? Of course I’d never had it, but I’ve seen all the Insta-posts with everyone who was lucky enough to get reservations. Holy crap. And the news said they were booked for the rest of the year.” He huffed and, almost to himself, said, “You really are the final boss.”

We chatted about nonsense the rest of the drive. Normally I didn’t like idle chitchat, preferring to sit in silence over discussing whatever had been trending last. But with Sam, as I had quickly come to find out, everything was the opposite. Expectations were turned on their heads. I found myself actively enjoying our conversation about the last big pop star scandal, laughing with Sam as we made silly jokes and effortlessly fell into another conversation about politics, a territory that could have potentially been dangerous, but not with Sam.