No matter what happens, I will never forget how he looks at this moment. A big grin as always, bare muscular chest, deep blue eyes, unzipped jeans, and a tanned hand on the longest, hardest cock I’ve ever seen.

One hundred percent Sam.

Why couldn’t we have met another way?

“Now this photo is a keeper,” I say, turning the phone toward him. “I even managed to capture those beautiful blue eyes of yours. Regardless of what men think, it’s not all about the size of the dick.”

After turning off my cell phone, I place it on the table.

“Are you satisfied now, Lila?” he asks. “Because I’m beginning to feel a bit objectified.”

He’s teasing, and I laugh at the ridiculous thought.

“How many times have you and your biker friends made women feel objectified?”

“Two times, okay, maybe three at the most,” he shoots back. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you satisfied?”

I move so close to him that our bodies are almost touching.

“Not yet.”

He inhales sharply. His blue eyes have gone almost black with lust.

“You had better stop playing with me,” he warns.

“Or what?”

Sam is barely hanging on to control. I wonder how far I can push him before he snaps. I want to know what it feels like to be taken by Sam when he’s not holding anything back. My hand reaches up to wrap firmly around the tip of his hard cock. I rub my thumb over the opening and then slide my hand down to meet his.

I lean forward and whisper in his ear. “So the player doesn’t like to be played?”

“Okay,” he growls. “That’s it, young lady.”

He grabs me with both hands and backs me up against the white oak kitchen island in the middle of the room. With one strong tug, he grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it up over my head.

“No bra? Damn! It’s a good thing I didn’t realize that or I would have been coming in my hand.”

His teeth nip my shoulder gently while his hands slide up my stomach to knead my breasts.

“Take off your shorts,” he says. “My hands are busy.”

I push down my shorts and panties. They pool at my feet and he kicks them out of the way. As if I weigh nothing, he picks me up and sits me on the wooden island.

“Lie back,” he says.

“Wait,” I say in alarm. “We can’t do this here. People prepare food where I’m sitting.”

He grins back at me and reaches for the bottle of chocolate syrup on the counter.

“I know. So do I.”