sam drake goonette

Money, sex, and record breaking deals. That’s all Sam Drake, CEO of Drake Enterprise, cared about. That and a good expensive glass of bourbon whisky. He was a shark in the business of suits and ties. He was the kind of man that didn’t have to say a word as he entered a room to demand respect. He exuded superiority. Confidence. Wealth. Arrogance. 

He had a secretary to deal with his scheduling, plenty of subordinates willing to kiss his Oxfords to do his paperwork for him. All he had to do was show face at a meeting or two, prove his company always had the upper hand in every situation and corner whoever it was he was meeting that day like a scared street cat. Intimidate them with just the right amount of his very apparent power and shake on it. It was his own kind of drug. To ink paper with his name on it, sealing a deal with his signature. Ruining lesser people’s lives for a profit. Many would say he got off on it, and they wouldn’t be wrong.

Sam absolutely got off on the power he had, the power of significance and wealth. It was hard to beat the feeling of knowing you’re better than the person you’re sitting opposite from at every table you sat at. He’d wear the finest suits, flash his charming smile while sporting $1500 neckties and $4500 cufflinks. His hair slicked back with the finest of gels. Hair he knew made him look more confident, more bold. No matter where he was, he was best dressed. He simply was the best and, fuck, did he love it. 

Today was another win, another deal inked and millions flooding in within the next few hours. Today was a good day, and with his blood pumping with that rush of power, Sam made his way to the usual jazz club he enjoyed visiting after a win. The club was by invite and membership only, classy and upscale, and fucking expensive. It was a mix of a lounge bar, gambling room, and strip club. It gave him everything he needed; expensive liquor, hot women, the confidence boost knowing he was richer than every man in the room. Tonight would be his victory lap.

Prestige men and women with too much money on their hands roamed the club. The kind of men and women who flaunt their money on their clothes and their consumables. Some coming to blow off steam, others coming to find their next night’s companion to take home. Many of which are married, most of which didn’t care who was married. Sam was one of those people.

He’s fucked countless married women in his lifetime, and countless still wanted to try their luck at winning his attention for a night. But tonight we didn’t want just anyone. Tonight was a victory lap, tonight was a celebration on the new fantastic deal he fucking won his company. It was the kind of night that was fuelled by his ego so big it made his impressive cock look small, and that was no small feat. The same cock was already jumping in his pants out of sheer eagerness, the rush of today, that same rush of power now rushing straight to his dick straining insistently behind the zipper of his slacks.

Sam made his way to the bar, ordering a Double Eagle Rare and sipped at it, feeling the brown liquor burn hot on the way down. His pulse thrummed with the same heat, the same heat he needed to expel from his body into a tight warm cunt that would make his nerves buzz.

Sam’s eyes surveyed the room, watching people mingle with each other. His eyes caught some women he recognized, most of those he recognized he’d fucked before. Some more than once. Those same women were all the same, women with lots of money wearing the most costly perfumes they could get their hands on, the biggest pearls and diamonds to ornament their bodies. He had nothing against those kinds of women, he fucked them for a reason, he liked them.

He liked peeling back those brand name dresses and finding more brand name lingerie adorned beneath. He loved the way women threw themselves at him. The way they were impressed with him, with his money. With his cock, his mouth. He knew how to fuck, knew how to take his pleasure and shower a woman in her own as well. He knew how to make women feel so good the dolls at the club never asked for tips.

But as he had in mind, tonight was not a night for the same wealthy women he’s fucked before. Not a night for the dolls either as lovely as they may be. His celebration called for someone special. Someone to make his blood pump and keep him hard for hours. In his scanning, sipping his bourbon idly, his eyes landed on a familiar head of hair and body. The same silhouette he’s dreamed of touching again since the last time all those months ago.

Sam’s pupils dilated when he saw your face, when he confirmed it was really you. He hasn’t seen you in a year. Shit, not since last year’s New Year’s party. A charity event that made its impact on his memory and it was not because of the catering.

Sam had met you that night, dressed in dazzling gold designer with matching nails. He still remembered the Jimmy Choos you’d worn. The beautiful sparkling heels that later dangled by your toes when he’d had your legs hung over his shoulder for hours that same night. He remembered the taste of you, that tangy decadence almost present on his tongue now as his heart skipped a beat and his cock jolted in his briefs. You were a walking dream, a woman he never imagined would’ve left such an impact.

Sam was used to one night stands, used to no strings attached. He never cared for a woman he fucked, never wanted to. He found women for sex and nothing more. He’d told himself that if they wanted more: that wasn’t his problem. He thought you’d be just another woman. That was until you flashed him your glimmering eyes, laughed at his attempts to charm you, blushed so sweetly when he commented on his desires for you.

When you first met Sam you hadn’t had many men. A handful sure, but nothing far from regular vanilla sex. That night you had wanted to experiment, to find the right man who will teach you and test things you’ve never tried. And when you got talking with Sam at that gala? You knew instantly he was the one. He made you blush with so many sinful things he wanted to do to you, things you never knew existed. Things you now wanted to try.

Sam was used to women blushing, sure. But the way you blushed? Blushing because you didn’t know the things he spoke so explicitly about doing to you were even things that could be done between a man and a woman? It struck him singularly. He was accustomed to women whoring themselves for him, expected them to blush and oblige to whatever it was he suggested. But you? Your innocence made him want to corrupt you. The same kind of corruption that he was hooked on dealing in his line of work. The same kind that made his heart course with adrenaline and dominating power.

There you were now, sitting there with a cocktail in hand. It seems today you went with an espresso martini. A drink that Sam noted seemed to match the dark tones in your dress. Your dress was designer like any other article of clothing in sight in this club, yet still unique that no one else wore something similar. As Sam approached like a hound with his primal senses locked on you, all he could do was focus on how that rich dark colour reminded him of a deep velvet cake he wanted to bury his face into.

You had a man with you, a stranger Sam didn't recognize, who seemed to be chatting you up about one thing or another. Clearly trying to impress you with a flash of a smile as he leaned closer from his side of the couch. Your eyes weren't on him, however. Rather, you scanned the room as you sipped from your martini, paying the man trying to charm you very little mind.

You and Sam have only fucked about a handful of times, and each time was magnificent. Earth shattering. Left him breathless and aching in all the right places. Sam was known for not doing feelings–emotions–much like any other rich man in this club. He liked his women without complications, his sex without strings. He never saw the average woman more than once. Had a select few women in his contacts he saw regularly who wanted the same as he did and nothing more. Yet you were neither of those. You fit into your own category. A category Sam couldn’t place, somewhere feeling not having enough and always wanting more, even if it did go against his rules. And for some reason, seeing that man even trying at you had Sam's blood boiling.

Sam rounded the couch, bourbon in hand and stood in front of the man. You were first to notice Sam. Sam's eyes met yours briefly and you smiled at him, that familiar flutter in your gut returning after not seeing him for so long. The stranger didn't spare him a glance, not until Sam looked back at him with sharp eyes.

"You're in my seat, pal." Sam doesn't start with a greeting, he doesn't need to.

The man's gaze meets Sam's and he's instantly cowering, grabbing his drink and shuffling out of his seat. "Sorry..." He mumbles before giving you one last glance and leaving just as Sam took his place.

"Who was that?" Sam's inquiry was less sharp to you now, but still had an edge to it. An edge you recognized as jealousy in his tone and his expression. It made your ego swell while you hid your smile.

"Just someone from a recent job. He's been trying–and failing–to hit on me. It's kind of sad to watch. I wonder what kind of women fall for it." You say simply as you eye Sam, your lips upturning just the slightest as you sip your drink. "Got a free drink out of it though." You shrugged, "Can't complain."

Sam's cock stirred to life beneath his trousers at the look in your eye. The mirth he found so simplistically seductive whenever he spoke to you. Sam smirks, "Where've you been this past year? Haven't seen you at any charity events."

"Miss me?" You hum coyly with an edge of cockiness. Sam loved that in you. Loved that you knew you had this strange but pleasant hold on him.

"Maybe."

"Heard you landed a top notch deal."

"You heard, huh?" Sam's confidence grows.

"Word travels fast when Drake Enterprise brings in big money and their so-called 'partners' leave crying to their mothers." You smile at Sam and he can see some pride in the way you look at him. That pride shoots straight to his cock.

"What can I say? I'm a good business man."

"You're a predator, eating up every small fish in the sea that dares to enter your territory. Should I be worried?" You mocked your concern.

Sam huffs a laugh and you could smell the bourbon whisky he drank on his breath as it fans towards you. The rich yet pungent scent that somehow always made your thighs clench when you smelled it on him. "Only if you challenge me, sweetheart."

"You make it sound so inviting."

Sam leans a bit closer, his eyes dark on yours as he catches the barest scent of your perfume up close. The sweet smell made his skin pebble with gooseflesh. Now all he could think of was having you beneath him, naked and breathless. To feel that tight cunt of yours and smell that perfume as he'd drive into you mercilessly. He found himself staring at your neck, his gaze following your collarbone to your sternum then down to your breast. The same breasts he's memorized from many greedy tastes and touches. The only pair of breasts he dreamed of sitting perfectly in that dark coloured dress.

Sam took a breath, a deep breath, breathing in that sweet warm perfume again before speaking. "You're welcome to, sweetheart. Anytime."

His voice was lower now, rougher. It was the same voice he used when his face was buried between your thighs, the same voice you heard when you dreamed of him.

"A winning deal means a celebration is in order." Your voice is smaller, but loud enough for him to hear.

You watched his lips as he answered, "You read my mind." He purred, bringing that glass of liquor to his lips and taking a slow sip. Your eyes still trained on his mouth, the way his lips kissed the glass. How his throat bobbed with his swallow. The way his tongue darted out to lick his lips. How his lips were left slightly glistening from the mix of the bourbon and his saliva. It made you want to lick those lips, taste the bitterness of the alcohol on his tongue, feel his mouth on yours again.

"I missed you." You utter softly.

Sam was already reading your mind as he leaned closer to press his lips to yours. His kisses were never featherlight or hesitant. He was sure in everything he did, confidence radiating off him in heated waves as he devoured your lips with his own. He kissed you deeply, so mind-numbingly you almost spilled the drink you held in your hands. You moaned as you kissed him, his mouth catching it with a groan of his own.

Sam's cock was hard and chafing his zipper with every movement he made, straining in those black dress pants. His hand found your jaw, thumb sliding along your chin as he kissed you so fervently you swore if you weren't sitting your knees would've given out.

Sam pulls away before he could rip your dress off and fuck you right there in the middle of the club. He wouldn't have minded, but he was sure the staff wouldn't appreciate it as much. Sam was brought back from his thoughts at the sound of your soft, almost pleading, whine.

Sam stood smoothly, his hand holding your arm to bring you with him as he grabbed his drink and brought the two of you to a more secluded corner of the club. Behind the group of socialites gambling their money away at a roulette table, Sam guided you towards some empty booths. The circle booth Sam chose was lit dimly by a small amber table lamp. Far enough from the crowd to not draw attention, but close enough that you didn't exactly feel alone with him.

Sam sat down in the booth, pushing the table aside to make room for the both of you as he pulled you into his lap.

"Now that's better don't you think?" His voice was low and next to your ear, hands on your hips as he shifted, letting you feel his prominent hardness beneath you.

A soft sigh escapes you, both of anticipation and pleasure as you grind down on Sam's hard on. You could feel Sam's lips pull into a smirk against your skin as he breathed in your perfume on your neck.

"Missed my cock, haven't you?" His voice was cocky, knowing.

Much like any woman he's fucked before, you couldn't stay away from him, and damn him for knowing it too. Damn his good looks, his charm. Damn that thick long cock of his that always made your eyes roll back and toes curl. You hated him for it, but you also loved it. Loved the way he knew just how to fuck you, how to make you forget about the stress of life and every other man you've ever met.

You've tried finding regular men who could fuck you in a way that would satisfy you the way Sam did. And there were plenty of rich men with big cocks and the same cocky arrogance Sam bestowed. Yet somehow, no matter how good the sex was, none of them came close to a fraction of what Sam made you feel. You would curse him for plaguing your mind, if only you didn't fold each time you saw him. Each time months apart from the last. Seeing Sam again just made your insides yearn to be filled the way he always managed to do so perfectly.

But you weren't blind to not see the similar effect you had on him. Sam was drawn to you as much as you were drawn to him. He yearned for your warm cunt the same way you itched for that fat cock of his.

"And you've missed this pussy." You purred with a smile over your shoulder as you rolled your ass against his erection. Even through his slacks you could feel his thickness, the ridge of his cock head, every pulsing throb your presence alone was able to pull from his gut.

Sam groans into your neck, a gentle scrape of his teeth meets your skin. “You don’t need my admission to know I did.” He murmured gruffly. “You wanna know what I've really been thinking?"

Goosebumps rise on your skin as Sam's hands grip your hips tighter now, guiding your movements smoothly and firmly against his lap. Your soft moan mingles with his sigh of pleasure, both of you keen on getting the slightest bit of relief.

Your eyes roamed the busy club, no one paying a single mind to either of you as the public laughed and drank, some couples getting cozy in their own corners. Your mind was a haze when you answered Sam finally. "Yes."

Sam leaned back in the booth, watching you as you grind against his cock. He was so tightly wrung from today let alone from you he swore if he wasn't careful he could blow in his fucking slacks like a teenager. He needed some sense of composure, he couldn't let everyone in this club know he was a mess when it came to you. But the way you so shamelessly found the right angle to rub and grind your clit through your dress against the hard ridge of his cock was fucking sinfully delectable.

"Fuck, I've been hard since I saw you sitting there. Been looking forward to tonight, on finding the perfect wet pussy to bury myself into." Sam starts roughly, his hands sliding up along your sides, "I needed someone perfect tonight. Couldn't have just anyone, baby. Didn't want some bored rich wife or another stripper..." The same hands touch that barest of skin exposed from your dress along your shoulders before sliding down your back.

His touch was electrifying. It had you arching with the glide of his hand, a pleasant shiver shooting straight to your core. You moaned a soft sound of need as you ground down harder against his twitching cock.

Sam hisses and his hips jolt, "Then you showed up, fuckin' perfect timing. You're exactly who I need, sweetheart. You'll give me what I need, won't you?"

"Yes, Sam... Yes..." Your voice was breathless as Sam's hands guided you to lean back against him.

Sam's eyes were glued to the way your hips rolled in circles, feeling the way his cock strained and throbbed insistently in his too tight slacks. "Fuck, princess, I need you home. Now." His low groan was enough to send arousal fluttering through your abdomen. With that, Sam downed the rest of his thousand dollar bourbon in one swig and gently pushed you to your feet. "Come on."

It was a quick drive back to Sam's multimillion-dollar penthouse suite. He was even quicker to get you inside to get your clothes off. He wanted to see that dress on the floor and by God nothing would stop him.

You remembered Sam's penthouse well. Modern and sleek with still the right touch of old money that showed his wealth in various forms. An expansive view of the city no matter which floor to ceiling windows you were looking through. The city at night was mesmerizing through the unobstructed windows, every room providing an impressive view.

By the time you reached Sam's room, you were swiftly being stripped of your dress. You turned to Sam as he let the dress drop and pool around your feet. His attention was instantly drawn to your rather skimpy underwear, if you could even call it underwear.

"Shit, sweetheart... A g-string? Really?" Sam's hazel eyes were blown dark with lust. He couldn't get past the g-string let alone the fact that you weren't wearing a bra under your dress. Sam's hand went straight to your breast, cupping and kneading firmly, "I mean, come on. Were you expecting someone in particular? Or am I just this lucky?"

Your skin prickled at his touch, your nipple hardening under the pad of his thumb as the cool air chilled your naked flesh. "My dress didn't need a bra."

"So you just go around not wearing one? Letting anyone see those puppies poking through your dress?" His words are punctuated with a pinch of your other nipple that made you suck in a breath as arousal gushed through your pussy.

"Why does it matter if I wear a bra or not?" A part of you enjoyed the way he was being possessive. Any other time you would've told him off, said something about how he should be a bit more progressive in his thoughts about how women should dress. But, fuck, right now? You couldn't think of anything but that hard length drilling a hole through his fucking pants.

Sam caught the way your eyes drifted down and his cock jumped. He uttered a curse under his breath before pulling his hands away to undo his belt. "Turn around."

His command was stern and exhilarating, sending a tingle through your gut as you willingly obliged. You went to kick off your heels but Sam's tut stopped you. "Keep 'em on."

Your eyes met over your shoulder as you paused in your actions, he was hungry in a way you haven't seen before. His hands deftly remove his belt and unzip his fly. "What'd I tell you, baby?"

The endearment sounded more like a statement of ownership, and you couldn't stop the way your stomach flipped at his tone. There was raw need in his words. Wordlessly you finally got on the bed, bent over as he asked for. With your head down and your ass finally in the air, Sam took a long look at the view before him. Even the richest of women could be brought to this state with a few words and the right touch. It was something you should've felt ashamed of. To be able to be stripped down to nothing with one man's arrogance. But it was that confidence that made you weak at the knees. His cockiness that made your pussy drip.

Sam pulled his cock out through the zipper of his pants, not bothering to undress any further. He liked the power it gave him. The extra bit of dominance to have a woman naked for him while he fucked her with his clothes on. It was his proof that he could bring any woman he wanted down to this level of obscenity. To be a whore for him. He thrived off of it.

His hand found your plush skin, smoothing over your ass, his other hand stroking himself a few slow times before he stepped away. Heading to the other end of his room to his minibar, he poured himself another drink. As he sipped, he turned to admire you for a moment. Naked except for some skimpy panties and your $2000 heels glinting in the low light, waiting so patiently for him.

You chanced a glance at him over your shoulder, your cheeks heating at the vulnerability of your position, at the way he was teasing you and making you wait this way. It should've been humiliating. Yet something inside you loved it. Loved that sovereignty he had over you.

Sam caught your gaze over the rim of his glass before wordlessly walking back to you. Lazily, his hand found the curve of your ass once more, slipping his touch down to feel how wet you were. A satisfied groan sounded from him as he pushed aside your flimsy panties.

You were slick to the touch as Sam's fingers parted your folds. The almost tentative touch was too gentle for what either of you needed. For how taught with tension you felt while eagerly waiting for his fingers, his cock, inside you. For anything at all. You watched him out of the corner of your eye take another slow sip and you were buzzing with impatience and anticipation. Until his fingers finally circled languidly over your clit making you whine.

Your noise made Sam's cock twitch, "Fuck, you're so desperate for me." However, his words weren't any less desperate themselves.

Sam moved closer behind you, his swollen cock aching to feel your warmth envelope and squeeze him. He held his cock at its base, his balls feeling tight with need in his pants as he rubbed his tip to your pussy lips. "God, you're soaked." He breathed.

He reached into his pocket, setting aside his drink to pull out a condom. He was quick to rip the packet and slide the rubber on swiftly, an action he's done a hundred times before. He pressed his tip back to your folds, grunting in slight disappointment when it didn't feel the same as he’d just previously sampled. But the thought didn't last when he finally started to push his length inside you.

A gasp flees from your lips as your cunt stretches around the girth of Sam's cock. It was always the same, delicious sting that made your mind go blank. You bury your face into his sheets, a long mewl muffling into the fabric as Sam sheathed himself in your cunt.

Sam groaned when he pushed as deep inside you as he could, the tightness of your walls squeezing him never disappoints as he took a deep breath. He stilled himself, giving you the chance to adjust before he'd ravish that tight pussy. Yes, Sam loved power, loved to see even the tallest towers fall and the toughest men cry, but he wasn't a monster when it came to sex. He always lets you adjust. Paid attention to every sign your body gave him, every sound you made. Your comfort mattered, even if he acted like he didn't care. He wouldn't enjoy it if it hurt you. Besides, he knew his size wasn't exactly small.

But then your pussy quivered and squeezed around him the way it always did when you wanted more. "That's right. Ease into it, baby." Sam groaned as he leaned over you, giving you a slow thrust. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart." Your moan of pleasure didn't seem to be enough as you pushed yourself back on Sam's cock when he pulled back. "Your words, sweet thing." He hums. Then another languid thrust.

"Please, Sam." You whined out. Another thrust. "Your cock... Fuck me..." The words came out in broken half sentences. You could hardly think straight when Sam's cock pierced your needy cunt.

Your plea was met with a sharper thrust, then another. The wind was knocked from your lungs as Sam's pace grew rough and harsh. His hand pushed your back further down. His grunts met every thrust as he used his spare hand to grope your ass. "Ass up, baby. Higher..." He smirked when your moans spiked louder. "That's it."

Your eyes drooped closed, moans muffled into the sheets as you gripped his duvet taking every hard thrust he gave you. Surely you were drooling onto his sheets but you didn't care, not with how this man was fucking you. Not when you've been needing this for months. Your mind was blank, nothing but the feeling of Sam's rigid cock diving in and out, hard and fast, angled so perfectly you could see stars. You didn't even know how loud you were being, but Sam could.

Sam could only feel his ego inflating with the same urgency as his release. It was a high he could never get enough of, the way you made him feel like a God among men. "That's right, sweetheart. Show me how good my cock makes you feel."

Sam's pace didn't falter. He was mesmerized by the way your ass giggled with every thrust, by the way your back curved to take more of him. How your pussy swallowed him eagerly, coating his length in your creamy silk. His hand slid along the globe of your ass until his thumb grazed your asshole. Your tight hole puckered slightly from the touch but you made no protest as he rubbed it gently. Sam didn’t think twice, spitting onto your hole and slowly easing his thumb in. The mixture of him stretching both your holes was enough to make you squeeze.

The feeling of both your holes responding to him had Sam’s brain short circuiting with nothing but arousal. God, he wish he was fucking you raw. His cock jolted inside you at the thought, his balls tightening as he groaned loudly. "Fuck..." He grunted before pulling out his cock and his thumb.

You whined in protest, lifting your head to look at him over your shoulder once again, ready to demand why he stopped. Then you saw him rip off the condom. Saw his angry red cock pulse. The look in his eyes that showed just how much he craved to feel every inch of you.

He brought his cock back to your pussy, stopping as he met your gaze. A silent moment, a moment for you to say no. But you didn't. Instead, you pushed back, feeling his leaking tip poke your wet cunt as you bit your lip. Sam's expression darkened with desire. "I fucking knew you were a slut for me." He purred before sinking in deep.

Both of you moaned at the intimate feeling of skin on skin. You never fucked any man raw, and you've surely never let Sam. But this time you couldn't say no. You wanted it as much as he did. You couldn’t have imagined you would want a man raw inside you, you were sure Sam didn’t want to risk such things either. Yet there was something deeper, deeper in the both of you, that couldn’t help but need it.

Your moans and Sam’s grunts were punctuated with each thrust. Sam bent over you, pressing his brow to your shoulder as he panted against your back, chasing his imminent release. “I’ll pull out, I promise…”

Yet even as he said that, a part of you didn’t want him to. Neither of you wanted kids, yet here you were, desperate to feel him fill you up. Your thoughts were fogged with lust and pleasure, senses tingling and nerve ends firing. You couldn’t think before the words slipped from your lips. “Don’t pull out.”

Sam tried to protest, he should’ve. He wanted to. But he couldn’t. Not when he was so close. Not when your pussy was so tight and so wet and so warm. You undid him so simply every time. “Shit…” Sam shuddered, his muscles tensing and his body growing too hot. His eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open as a strained moan escaped him. The sweat on his brow mixed with the sheen of sweat on your skin. The smell of your perfume and your musk mixing with sex was causing his neurons to overload with arousal. Sam’s orgasm hit him so powerfully he felt as though he stopped breathing as he spilled deep inside you.

Sam pushed his hips so firmly against yours you swore he was going to breach your cervix. His length applied pressure in all the right places inside your swollen cunt. The feeling of him throbbing and filling you with his hot cum was overwhelming as you grind back on his cock, pursuing the hunt for your release as his pants chafed against your clit so deliciously rough. You choked on your moan as you came, your body trembling beneath his as the both of you grind into one another to chase that euphoria for just a second longer.

Heavy pants filled the room as you floated down from your high. Sam didn’t pull back yet, his bones limp. As were yours. Your ears were ringing slightly, your body buzzing with the satisfaction of an intense climax. You smiled into the sheets, a soft moan humming in your chest. It truly was only Sam who could bring you to such bliss.

The Christmas holidays were in full bloom as the weather turned colder and the trees outside your home lost their leaves. Even if Sam didn't want to admit it, he’s grown to be quite the sucker for the holidays. He wasn't much for the festivities before. But after over a decade in prison, he found himself missing the things that used to irritate him about Christmas. Like all the shops playing Christmas music the moment it hits November 1st, or seeing the stores bring out their Christmas stock of chocolates and decorations before Halloween was even over.

It used to annoy him, or he said it would anyway, not that it ever really mattered. Perhaps he was a bit of a cynic. But losing that Christmas spirit in a Panamanian prison made him see the holidays in a new light. So when he finally settled down with you in your cozy little town house, he found himself in a space where he could feel a sense of peace again. The same peace that let him feel at home, something he hadn't had for many years. You had given him a safe space. And now, you've given him Christmas.

Initially he rolled his eyes when you unpacked the boxes of Christmas decorations mid November. But as he helped you hang up the garlands, place each and every snowman and reindeer figurine, put up every snowflake ornament, Sam couldn't help but smile. There was a gratification in seeing the house spruced up with festive decorations. Some things were so simple, like the poinsettia patterned hand towels or the red and gold ribbon draped over the mantle of the fireplace. Seeing the usual mugs in the cabinet get replaced with the Christmas ones.

Yet somehow, simple became such an important staple in Sam's life. He never thought he’d feel typical for thinking about how grateful he was during the holidays, but there he was.

Following the sound of Christmas jazz music playing quietly from the kitchen, Sam found you and just about the entire pantry unpacked onto the tiny counterspace. He tried stifling a laugh, which didn’t work when you turned around to look at him. There you were in all your glory. His rock–his home–covered in flour. Hands a sticky mess, hair mussed, cheeks flushed from the heat of moving around. That same smile that always appeared around you tugged at his lips, even wider now seeing what an endearing mess you were.

"Looks like the kitchen threw up on you." Sam couldn't help but laugh between words. You huffed in response.

"Baking is messy." You placed your hands on your hips, Sam's smile only stretched wider.

"Or maybe it's just you that's messy." Sam peered over your shoulder to see what exactly you were trying to make.

Cut outs of hearts, stars and gingerbread men lining a sheet pan caught Sam's attention. You followed his gaze to the unbaked cookies, expecting some quippy remark from him. Only, you were met with his silence. Glancing up at him, you saw a softness in his eyes.

In reality, Sam found his heart warming. Instead of snark, he discovered a tenderness. A fondness blooming as he took a moment to admire your work, however messy.

His eyes met yours and there was this gentle warmth, one you found yourself smiling at. "What?"

Sam's thumb brushed at your cheek, wiping off a smear of sugar and flour. "You have a little something." He hums amused.

You rolled your eyes at him but your smile grew. Turning back to your unfinished work, you wiped your hands off on your already very dirty shirt before reaching for the next cookie cutter shape. "You want to help me or are you just gonna watch?"

"Oh I'm fine watching." You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Sam was indeed taking in the view. His girl, baking him cookies in their kitchen for their very own Christmas. What more could he need? His hands landed on your waist and his lips found your shoulder. His eyes watching you cut out dough into little Christmas trees.

"You know these will be gone within twenty four hours right?" Sam muses as he presses another sweet kiss to your skin above your neckline.

"I'd give it twelve if you're involved." You jest.

Sam chuckles, "Now I'm wounded you'd think me a glutton. But you're right." Sam's eyes landed on a little something next to the bags of flour and sugar. "Is that what I think it is?" His hand instantly reaches to grab the glass of eggnog you had half drunk and brought it to his nose.

"It's eggnog."

"With rum?" He inquired with newfound elation.

"Maybe."

Your answer was met with a coy grin, "Now you're talking."

Sam was b-lining it to the fridge the second he set down your glass. It pulled a laugh from you seeing his eagerness. "I didn't know you liked eggnog."

"You kidding? Well honestly it's not my favourite, but you have rum. Rum makes everything better." Sam's already grabbing another cup and serving himself as he speaks.

He found the rum in the liquor cabinet quick enough and returned to his eggnog, then poured. Pouring what you could've guessed was the equivalent of at least two shots into the half glass of eggnog. You barked a laugh, "Jesus, Sam. You want some eggnog with that rum?"

You're only met with one devious grin, "I call it pirate eggnog."

A snort left you as you went back to your cookies with a shaking head.

Sam took one sip and exhaled a low breath, the rum burning in his stomach. "That's more like it."

"I'll pray for your liver."

"My liver's got plenty of catching up to do, sweetheart. Thirteen years without alcohol? I've got all that time to make up for with this," he raises his glass, "boozy eggnog. Man, this is the best."

Another laugh escapes you, "Just try not to get drunk before dinner, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam places a kiss to your temple, his free arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, his spirits clearly lifted with his drink.

Smiling, you took the full tray of unbaked cookies to the oven, slipping from his grasp. Though Sam was glued to you as you placed the tray on the oven rack. His eyes watched as you bent over, though not watching the cookies exactly. He tilted his head as his gaze was stuck on your ass, admiring you bent over in front of him with another sip of his eggnog.

Once the oven door was closed, you reached for a timer. Only to be interrupted by Sam's hand squeezing your ass. You jumped with a gasp, "Sam!"

Your chastisement didn't land as admonishing as you'd hoped when you saw Sam grinning shamelessly.

"Come on, you can't tell me you didn't expect it." Setting his eggnog down, he reaches both hands to run along your curves, turning you around to face the counter once again. "Go on, start that timer. Don't want 'em to burn." Sam coos next to your ear as he dips his head into your neck, kissing along your sensitive neck.

Those hands of his don't pause in their venturing, slipping along every dip of your body and over every supple swell. Greedy hands squeezing every ample curve and finally reaching your breasts with a gentle caress. His stubble scratches your neck softly as he spoke, "How long do these cookies take?..."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his insinuation, "Like, 10 minutes?"

A groan of disapproval, "You should've baked a cake then... gives me more time with you while we wait."

He sucked at your jaw making your insides flutter. Then he was gone, pulling back to grab his eggnog once more and taking another drink. You glance back as he leaned back against the counter, a smug expression on his face. Cup still raised after his sip as his tongue darts out to lick the eggnog from his lips. His eyes were sweltering, eating you alive.

Heat rose to your cheeks, "Stop undressing me with your eyes."

A smirk. "Would you rather I undress you with my hands?"

You gnawed at your lip. You walked right into that one, you couldn't even be mad.

Sam takes another sip. "Or you could do it for me, I wouldn't mind a show. You know what? Maybe I'll get you some Christmas lingerie. That's what this is really missing." Your groan only encouraged him to continue, "No, I'm serious. You baking for me wearing nothing but sparkly red lingerie? That's every man's dream."

"You're too much."

"I'm really contemplating it."

"I don't doubt that."

"Are you more of a red or a black kind of gal? I like red personally."

A laugh escapes you. This man really didn't know when to quit, "Are you serious right now?"

Though he didn't stop. He stood there, self satisfied that he was getting to you when he saw the pink tinge on your cheeks. "You know, sweetheart? Those red laced crotchless ones you got tucked away in that drawer of yours you pull out for special occasions? Yeah, those are my favourite."

You let out a surprised laugh as you stare at him slack jawed. "You better not talk like this when we host your brother and Elena this Thursday."

Sam set down his cup and pulled you towards him, "I'll tell Nate how much fun we have with them. Or maybe the I'll tell him how you've been wanting to experiment with whipped cream"

You smack his chest, face burning, "I told you that in confidence!"

Sam laughs, taking your wrist in his hand and kissing your palm, "I'm messing with you, I wouldn't say that to him."

"You sure about that? I honestly wouldn't put it past you." You huffed, brow raised at him in doubt. Sam's smirk was enough of a response to prove your point.

Before you could start pouting his lips were on yours in a slow, deep kiss. You wanted to protest, really you did. But Sam always knew how to kiss you until your mind went blank. You melted into it, eyes closing and arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed your chest to his. His mouth was slow and savouring against yours, pulling a soft moan from your throat as you followed his lead.

Sam switched places with you, pressing you to the counter–the only bit of counter with empty space. His large hand cupping the side of your neck, mouth devouring yours, tongue brushing your bottom lip. His fingers carded into your roots, wrapping around your hair and twisting it around his hand to hold you firmly in place to take his kiss. You were pliant in his arms, taking everything he gave you.

A groan rumbled in his chest before his lips were off yours and you were spun around to face the counter. With your mind still catching up to what Sam was doing to you, you were stunned out of your thoughts when he suddenly tugs your pants and underwear down in one swift move.

You hardly had time to gasp before Sam was on his knees behind you. "Bend over, baby, let me taste you."

Sam's face was between your legs before your chest was even against the counter, hands pushing your legs apart and tongue darting out to taste. Your gasp was cut off by a moan when his tongue delved into your hole, his hands spreading your cheeks as he devoured your cunt ravenously.

You braced yourself on the counter, gasping between breaths as Sam's relentless ministrations made your knees weak. "Holy shit, Sam." You were already breathless, his mouth working you out. Tongue licking and flicking, lips sucking your sensitive bud into his mouth, nose nudging your cunt so deliciously it made a groan rip through you. You pushed your hips back against his face, wanting more. And he gave it to you.

Sam didn't hold back, he didn't tease. He didn't have time to. Not if he didn't want those gingerbread cookies to burn, he was against the clock. So he challenged himself: how fast could he make you cum? How quick could his tongue work? Or how hard could he suck your clit to make you whimper? He was about to discover the answers.

Groans reverberated against your pussy the more Sam tasted you. His hunger only grew the more you began to grind against his face. He pressed his face further between your legs, breathing in your scent as he inhaled to catch his breath. Your musk clouding his brain with a hazy kind of lust that drove him into a frenzy.

He only had mere minutes. Minutes until that timer went off, minutes before you'd have to save those cookies from the oven. It wouldn't be the end of the world to not make it, but Sam was stubborn. Once he set his mind to something, he was going to do it no matter the odds.

Your knees wobbled with pleasure as you moaned, Sam responded with his own moans as he consumed your slicked cunt. Your head was spinning, and that was right where Sam wanted you. He worshipped that pussy of yours as if it were sweeter than any honey he'd ever drowned in.

Sam only doubled his efforts like a madman when he heard your moans quicken. Your pussy clenched around his tongue, your hips rolling more insistently. He let you ride his face as he ate you out feverishly. His full focus was drawn to your pleasure, his tongue flicking your clit as you grind against his nose faster, harder.

His hands gripped your ass and thigh, face pressed firmly between your cheeks. He didn't care about his breath, didn't care about anything but getting you to cum on his face. He'd die a happy man, suffocation by your cunt be damned.

You could hardly grasp the concept of time, you didn't know how long Sam's been face first between your thighs, but shit, were you already on the cusp of your orgasm. You mewled, pussy clenching for more, desperate to feel euphoria crash through you like a freight train. Just one more push, one more stroke, one more flick of Sam's adept tongue.

Sam knew exactly what to do with you, exactly where to touch, what spot was your most sensitive. Knew how to use it against you, how to use it to help you reach your breaking point. Seconds passed before he heard you gasp, your body tensing, pussy clenching. Then a loud cry of pleasure echoed through the house as you climaxed. Sam couldn't fathom to stop let alone slow down. Your body was jolting within his arms while he held you firmly in place to ride you through your high. To prolong your orgasm as long as your body could physically handle it.

"Oh, fuck! Sam!" Was all you could cry out as you choked on your own breath, your orgasm lengthy and intense as your knees threatened to give out.

Soon, you descended from your high with heavy breaths. Sam left a kiss to your fluttering pussy before sitting back on his heels proudly. His hands rubbed gentle circles over your hips as he leaned in to place soft kisses down the back of your thigh. Before you could collect your thoughts to speak, your timer goes off.

Sam's up on his feet and tending to the cookies effortlessly, "Ain't that perfect timing. Did you make icing?"

You let out a loose, breathless chuckle, "That's what I was going to do before you interrupted..."

Sam grins. "Ah, right. Well, you're not complaining are you?"

Here's the song I quoted: ;)