Ring in the New Year

Ring in the New Year is Part 2 of Shawn and Sam’s duet. For Part 1, read Home for the Holidays.

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Shawn watches Sam mingle across the room, using the rim of his glass as a shield. Her cheeks are rosy; perhaps from the champagne, but more likely from the multiple orgasms he’d given her earlier in the day. Her smile is radiant and overly large, as if painted on, although he knows it’s genuine. He doesn’t think he’s seen her smile as much in their entire lives as he had this past week. It suits her. And Shawn immensely enjoyed being the one to put it there.

It had been fantastic staying with Sam; she wouldn’t hear of him staying in a hotel. What was more surprising was how easy living together had been. Having never spent more than a few days at most with the same woman, with Sam, Shawn felt comfortable and carefree in a way he never had before, not even as a kid at home with his mother. As an added benefit, Sam looked gorgeous with bedhead, especially after what she and Shawn did in bed.

His thoughts drift to how she’d awoken Shawn each day with his cock in her mouth, taking him before his eyelids had even fluttered and not stopping until he was hard, thick, and helpless against her. Sometimes he’d let her finish making it up to her afterwards. Others, he couldn’t wait that long, and had dragged Sam’s slight body up his larger frame and claimed her mouth with his while sinking her soft heat onto his morning erection. Fucking perfection.

He thumbs the lace in his pocket, a gift from Sam just before they’d left her place for this evening’s festivities. He’d been just as wordless as her when she’d bent over, inching the satin material of her dress up over her hips and placing one hand on the door. With the other, Sam had slid the dainty fabric that covered her pink center languidly down her thighs, pooling it at her feet. Then, just as silently, she’d picked them up, stood gracefully and tucked the seemingly offensive item inside his pocket, all while smiling vibrantly before opening the door. He’d thought about simply dragging her back inside and having his wicked way with her, but had instead adjusted his growing length and shuffled out behind her, a moth drawn to a dazzling flame.

“Still haven’t told her, hey?” Sam’s brother asks from beside him, snapping him out of his reverie. Shawn lifts his eyebrow in his best friend’s direction, the question clear.

“Oh, come on, Shawn. I’ve watched you fawn over Sam for what? Twelve, thirteen years. You still come home for every holiday, even though you live two-hundred miles away, and no matter how many times I offer you a place to stay, you always end up at Sam’s.” When both of Shawn’s eyebrows raise, Sam’s brother carries on. “There’s no Shawn, by any last name, staying at any hotel in the city. I checked. Stop being a pussy, and just tell her already.”

\Without giving Shawn a chance to respond, Sam’s brother walks away, Shawn watching after him, open-mouthed and astounded it’d been so obvious. He’d thought they- Sam, and him- had been pretty good at keeping their exploits on the down-low. Of course, Sam’s brother was his best friend; or had been. If he were honest, for the last few years, Sam had filled that role more so than her brother. Something about that thought niggled at him. Shawn is thankful to shove it aside when he’s offered an outstretched hand.

“Bill Pattison,” the owner of said hand says, and Shawn applies the polite smile that had gotten him so far in life and business.

“Shawn.” He replies, but it only takes seconds for his thoughts to drift back to Sam.

He wonders if Sam’s knees have bruised from crawling on the tile floors in her home for the past six days. There wasn’t a sight more perfect that Sam’s round ass shifting elegantly back and forth as she navigated room to room. He had only told her once, after fucking her senseless, that he’d love to have her crawl for him, like a pet. Shawn had been half joking, but was pleased she’d taken his words to heart. He couldn’t suppress his grin when she’d brought him a lead, tucked in her mouth, laying it gently on his lap. A familiar tightness begins in his trousers and Shawn begrudgingly pulls himself back to the conversation at hand.

“We could use young talent like you. Think about it. Even if you choose not to join us, we could still use your services. As an external contractor, perhaps.” Bill pulls a card from his pocket, alerting Shawn that this meeting was not the happenchance occurrence Bill had made it out to be. Good to know. He likes knowing where his competition is. “Here’s my card. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

Shawn takes the card, places it in his pocket without reading it and inclines his head, excusing himself.

He trails behind Sam, watching as her hand rests on the forearm of a family friend as she greets them in passing. Inexplicably, Shawn feels jealous of the simple contact and stops in his tracks, wondering if he’s ever experienced this emotion before. He can’t remember a time that he has. He looks at Sam with fresh eyes.

“I don’t know what has gotten into her, but I hope it continues.” Sam’s mom says as she sidles up to Shawn. He snorts as he thinks about what has been getting into her. Namely him. In the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the den… “I haven’t seen her this good-humored in… well, years, if ever.” Sam’s mother continues almost wistfully. Shawn studies the woman who has been more of a mother to him than his own. As he’s regarding her, she looks up at him with a conspiratorial smile. “How’s the hotel been, Shawn?” And once again, he’s left open-mouthed and speechless as a member of Sam’s family walks away.

Shawn plans it so he’ll meet Sam at the entrance way. Without a word, he grasps Sam’s elbow and pulls her into her father’s study. The sound of the lock engaging echoes in the empty room. Sam’s eyes sparkle in anticipation what Shawn may do.

“To what do I owe the honor?” Sam asks while turning to face Shawn, a sultry smile gracing her red-stained lips.

“It seems you’ve been a very bad girl, Samantha.” Sam’s eyes dilate at hearing Shawn use her full name. Something he’s only recently started doing, before he commands her to do something she’ll both love and pretend to hate. Her thighs dampen, even before Shawn is telling her why she’s such a bad girl. It only exacerbates the problem when he spins her around and presses her against the door, his hot breath hissing in her ear.

“It seems they have found us out. Your brother and your mother have both hinted to me this evening that they know.” Shawn’s hand grazes Sam’s thigh and her breath quickens as his palm scorches a path beneath her dress until his fingers graze her core.

“And what is it they think they know?” Sam asks with a squeak, raising one knee to rest below her hands against the door. The position opens her wantonly, but Sam doesn’t care. She just wants to feel Shawn’s fingers. Everywhere.

“That I can’t get enough of you. Enough touching you.” Shawn sinks two digits into her wet heat, his other arm coming around to gage her in. “Enough of your delicious scent.” Shawn traces the column of Sam’s neck with the tip of his nose, inhaling loudly. “Enough of fucking you.” He presses his fingers deeper, smiling brightly when Sam moans. “That I want you to be mine.” Both go still, as if the words seem out of place. Shawn holds his breath, worried about what Sam will say.

“I’m yours,” she replies with a croak, like a lump is lodged in her throat.

In one swift move, Shawn has Sam bent over her father’s desk, fingers deftly undoing his belt. His smile widens when Sam lifts onto her toes in anticipation at the sound of it whistling through the loops. Instead, he winds it around her wrists, forcing her arms to the small of her back with one hand. With the other, he lowers his fly, sighing when his cock springs free from its fabric trap.

In one thrust, Shawn is buried in Samantha to the hilt. She hisses at the intrusion but pushes back, urging him on.

“Take me Shawn, I’m yours.” Sam repeats, and Shawn doesn’t hold back, pulling out, only to push back in. Fingers digging into Sam’s hips, he rocks her body back and forth on his length, hips gyrating wildly. He lifts her leg onto the desk, opening her to him, Shawn’s fingers finding Sam’s center once again. Neither of them bother to hold back the sounds of their pleasure, which echo off the book-lined walls until Shawn collapses breathlessly on Sam’s back.

Moments pass before Shawn stands and straightens himself, reclaiming his belt from around Sam’s wrists. He soothes out her hair and wipes a smudge of mascara from under one eye. When she smooths out her skirt, he remembers her panties in his pocket and pulls them out, kneeling chivalrously to help her put them on, even sliding them into place on her hips. Then he stands back and regards her once more.

“So, I was thinking I might relocate my firm. Move it back here.” He pauses to take her hand and trace the marks that line her wrist from their morning bondage session. “And maybe we could make this.” He moves his arm between the two of them, signifying whatever it is they have going on. “A permanent thing.”

“What does permanent mean?” Sam asks. Shawn can tell she’s curious, but still cautious. Sam is a lot of things. A kept woman-with a white picket fence and two point five kids- will never be one of them. Which is why he will relocate. He’d never ask her to change for him. He’d never want her to.

“Like waking up together each day and sleeping together each night permanent.” Shawn replies, his body moving closer to Sam’s as if already subconsciously aware that the two of them are becoming one.

“You mean, like, with a ring around my finger?” Sam asks bitterly, distaste for such an agreement evident by the slight curling of her upper lip. Shawn almost laughs out loud at how appalling she makes it sound.

“Oh no, Samantha.” Shawn replies, one hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I was thinking more like a ring around your neck.” Shawn circles the exact location he’d set such a ring using his fingers and thumb, applying light pressure until Sam’s eyes grow round, then hood with arousal. “You’d look lovely in nothing but a platinum collar.”

“Does that mean I’ll have to call you Sir?” The idea does not seem to displease her the way the thought of a wedding ring did, so Shawn takes a chance.

“Maybe for a time. But eventually, I hope you’ll call me Master.” Sam’s eye flare with something Shawn doesn’t think he’s seen in her before. Surrender.

“I think I’d like that very much, Sir.” Sam whispers, her eyes lowering as her cheeks redden. Shawn has never seen anything more beautiful.

Outside the closed door, a muffled din begins, “Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” The words haven’t finished ringing out, before Shawn’s hand threads in Sam’s hair, and he’s tugging, angling her head, so he can seal his lips on hers, just right.

header image courtesy of Shutterstock

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