The Greta Van Fleet Collection

Angel, Straight From Hell (Sammy)

"What do you feel like doing tonight, angel?" Sammy asks, toying with a bass line absentmindedly.

You've missed him so much. Due to your own schedule and obligations, you were forced to sit out the last leg of the tour. It was only a few weeks apart but it could've been years for as much as you missed each other.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you look him over.

Leaned back against the headboard in nothing but a faded pair of jeans, plucking quietly at his unplugged bass. Hair a tangle of mahogany waves, face calm and soft, switched off in a way he rarely gets to be these days. It makes you happy to see him this way, he looks content.

God, you love him. More pressingly, you want him.

He looks up, waiting for your response, and finds you eyeing him.

"See something you like?" he grins.

Your stares remain locked as you crawl across the bed toward him. "You're fucking beautiful." you whisper as his hand moves over your thigh, pulling you closer. His fingers flutter lightly across your skin as though you're the neck of his beloved bass.

"Look at you, beautiful girl." he whispers, pressing your clit gently through your panties "We staying in?"

You slide in closer beside him. "Yes, please."

He reaches out and props his instrument against the side of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. "Wanna tell what's got that pretty pussy so wet?" he kisses your neck between words, bass fingers playing a silent tune against your soaked panties.

Sammy is a talker. The things he says, filthy promises, dirty words, dominant commands, rasped in your ear, linger in your mind long after he's said them. How many times has something this god of a man has said made your thighs press together at an inopportune moment? Too many to count.

"I want you to do something for me." You drop your eyes to his chest, curling your fingers around his necklaces shyly.

"Eyes up here, angel." he waits until your gazes lock "What do you want? Tell me."

You're a mess, you shouldn't have brought it up, you'll never find the courage to say the words out loud.

"Tell me." He repeats with a touch more authority.

"Remember what you told me when you were gone?" your voice is barely a whisper.

"That's a little vague, my love." he pecks a kiss onto the tip of your nose.

"It made me moan when you said it," you explain, hoping to jog his memory without having to come right out and say it. "And you said it was your favorite sound in the world."

He reaches down with his free hand and adjusts himself as he continues to stroke your covered clit. The fact that he is already hard does not go unnoticed.

Dipping his hand inside your panties at last, he nods "I remember. I told you about how I had pictured you riding me and dripping all over my cock, until I came in my hand."

"Fuck..." your eyes drift closed as you picture it for a moment.

"What about it, angel?" he teases quietly "Do you want to watch?"

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth and your thighs squeeze together with the desperate need for friction.

"Huh-uh." he scolds "Keep them spread and answer my question. Do you want to watch? Did it get my girl all hot and bothered thinking about me getting myself off?"

"It fucking wrecked me." you confess, gazing up at him through your lashes.

"I love it when you curse," he groans, stroking into your warmth with a single finger only once. "When you say fuck with that sugary sweet voice of yours..." he trails off with a low moan.