Something About Sam

Chapter 17

We woke up the next morning and were quickly rushed out of the hotel by Sarah for breakfast at a local café down the street. Afterwards, the girls parted for shopping and Sam and I had the day to ourselves.

We did some sight-seeing and Sam signed a lot of autographs and took even more photos. Later that night, though, Sam said he had a surprise for me.

"I'm nervous," I told him, stepping into the elevator of a lavish looking French building. It was the tallest on the block.

Sam laced his fingers with mine, looking down at me to smile. "Don't be. It's a good surprise."

The elevator had been moving quickly, skyrocketing to the highest floor. When the number 25 lit up on the panel of buttons in front of us, the doors slid open.

Sam dragged me out the doors and into what looked like the lobby of some hotel. The room was covered in pots of beautiful flowers and green plants. The floors were an old rustic wood that deeply contrasted with the modernity of the elevator and the floors below. A man in the uniform of a waiter stood before us, a soft smile on his face.

He opened his mouth and began speaking to Sam in French. After a few seconds of simple conversation, Sam turned towards me. "Follow Pierre," he said, nodding towards the man who had begun to turn away and led us to the back of the lobby. Sam and I followed him hand-in-hand to a set of French doors. The windows weren't transparent, so I couldn't see what lay beyond them until Pierre pulled them open in one gentle swoop.

Beyond the French doors was, in short, Paris.

He had brought us to a small balcony that had the highest and the most perfect view of the city, the Eiffel Tower, and everything that lay beyond. I felt myself grow numb, absentmindedly taking the few steps it took to grip the wrought iron of the small fence.

Sam's voice was on my neck a few seconds later. "What do you think?"

The only thing I could do was turn around, grab his cheeks and kiss him. He laughed when I pulled away from his lips. The sound made my stomach burn. "So I did alright, then?"

I nodded. "You did better than alright," I told him, turning back to look at the view. It was truly stunning.

Taking a hold of my hand again, Sam slowly pulled me from the fence. Directly to our right was a small table for two, complete with a vase of roses and a bottle of champagne. I resisted the urge to kiss Sam once more as he gave me the seat with the view. As soon as we sat down, he took my hand again. I looked at our fingers intertwining on the tabletop, then I glanced at the Eiffel Tower twinkling again. None of it felt real.

Sam used his free hand to take a sip of the champagne that had already been poured for us. "I know you don't drink, but I do," he paused to laugh. "It's here if you want it."

Without hesitation, I grabbed the glass in front of me and rested it against my lips, taking a sip. I swallowed. "I'm in Paris, staring at the Eiffel tower with Sam Ford sitting across from me," I said, placing the glass back down on the table. "I think I'll have a glass of champagne."

Sam laughed, then I laughed. Then one glass of champagne turned to four. And dinner turned into the two of us standing at the balcony kissing sloppily and pulling one another closer. Then the bottle was gone and Sam was having trouble standing. My arm gripped his waist tightly, the sky grew darker, and he was minutes away from falling asleep on my shoulder.

"You know," Sam was slurring, his voice was quiet, and his breath touched my neck in small bursts that made my toes curl. "I've been with a few people."

We hadn't been talking about sex. But now, I guess, we were. I shifted my stance, waiting for him to keep going.

"But no one has ever been inside of me, Taite." I shivered. Sam took a deep breath against my face, raising his mouth to my ear. I chugged the rest of the alcohol in my hand: glass number five. "I want you to be the first."

I pulled him tighter to me, but only because I thought my legs were going to give out under the weight of his words, his voice. I stumbled, gripping the top of the fence in my hands. The glass I had been drinking out of had clattered to the ground, but it didn't shatter.

I hadn't said anything, so he kept going. "How does that sound, Taite?"

All I could do was nod. He snickered against my skin at the state of me. "Let's go, then."

When we got back to the hotel, got undressed, and laid in bed, the two of us fell asleep in seconds.

__

The next morning, Mrs. Ford was the one who woke us up. How was everyone getting keys to this room?

"Sam, Taite, up! The Jefferson's have a flight!"

The two of us groaned. I raised my head from the blankets, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the light. Mrs. Ford was eyeing me suspiciously. I realized then that a pile of our clothes—boxers included—were lying at the end of the bed we were sharing. The bed we slept in together. Naked. The other bed in the room remained perfectly made and completely untouched.

"I-I get nightmares," I heard myself stutter out an explanation for the scene she had walked in on. "Sam, he helps."

Her eyebrows rose. Her stare fell on the clothes at the end of the bed. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

"Yeah," Sam still sounded like he was asleep. He peeked out from under the blanket. "He does."

She took a deep breath in. "Get dressed, both of you. We're leaving in a half hour. Sam, we'll talk later."

Sam mumbled something that sounded like "whatever" as his mom left the room.

"Jesus fuck," I muttered, my fingers rubbing over my face. "That didn't look good."

Sam tossed back the blankets of the bed, then leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Nothing for you to worry about." He got up then, giving me a full view of his naked body as he started picking his clothes up off the edge of the bed and throwing them into his suitcase.

Looking at him, drinking him in, reminded me of what he had said last night. I felt myself get worked up. I swallowed.

"We can do a lot with thirty minutes, Sam."

He turned around to face me. He was smirking. He threw down the clothes he was folding and made his way over to the bed, then got on so he was hovering above me on all fours. He leaned down and kissed my neck slightly. My eyes closed. "You've orgasmed only from the sound of my voice," he paused, his tongue running down to my collar bone. "Imagine what I can make you feel with my tongue."

I didn't have to imagine that. Thirty minutes and two orgasms later, I knew exactly what he could do with that tongue.