Chapter 13

Blair

Samson led me into the bedroom and shut the door. The bulge in the front of his pants hadn’t shrunk in the time it’d taken us to get upstairs.

“You can’t do that to me unless you’re ready for what’s coming next.”

“I’m ready,” I replied and tugged my hand from his grip.

I stalked to the mirror across from the four-poster bed, made by one of my mom’s helpers this morning, and studied my reflection in it. A coat covered my baggy sweater, and a little dot of paint stained the collar. Tight blue jeans peered out from the hem and disappeared into the tops of my ankle boots. Nothing to phone home about.

I tossed my hair and looked at Samson’s reflection. He stood near the entrance, arms folded.

“Get naked,” he said. “Now.”

I stripped off my coat and tossed it to one side.

Samson walked to the edge of the bed and leaned against one of the wooden posts, his chocolate-brown eyes watching, measuring. He was still painfully hard.

This was the first time we’d been together since, well, since the first time.

“Blair,” he said.

I tugged my sweater over my head and dropped it next to the coat. My black bra contrasted with my skin, cupping my breasts, forcing them upward and together. I raised an eyebrow at Samson, then traced the curve of one of them, stroking my finger down my body to the button at the top of my jeans.

“Faster,” Samson said.

I kicked off my heeled boots and one of them thunked against the bathroom door. My button popped open beneath my fingertips, and I let the zipper down, then shimmied from side-to-side, shaking my booty for him.

Samson’s eyes flashed. He clenched his jaw, reached down, and adjusted that package meant just for me.

Is it just for you? You hired him, remember?

I shoved the thought aside, ruthlessly, and stepped out of my jeans. I wore nothing but my matching panties and bra, and my skin prickled in the cold.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

I hesitated, sucking my bottom lip.

“Now.”

The commands sent shivers through my core.

I slipped my fingers beneath the hem of my panties, the fabric light against my skin, and reached between my legs. My pussy was wet, the lips swollen already, and I ran my index finger over my clit and jerked on the spot. “Oh, god.” I met his gaze in the mirror.

Samson tilted his head to one side, a smile lifting the corners of those sexy, full lips. The muscles on his forearms corded. He gripped the post of the bed. “Keep going.”

I stroked myself, each flick of my finger bringing another shoot of pleasure within me, arcing back through my body, all the way to my solar plexus. I sucked in deep breaths, closed my eyes, and dragged the left cup of my bra down, pinching my nipple with my free hand.

“That’s it,” Samson said, and the tug of clothes, the flop of material falling to the floor, sent my senses into overdrive.

He’s coming closer. I groaned in response to that thought and stroked faster, circling my clit, then reaching between my pussy lips and plunging two fingers inside. It wasn’t good enough, didn’t feel as full as it’d been with Samson inside me.

“I need you,” I said.

“Do you, now?” His breath feathered across the back of my neck. Warm skin on skin as his hands slid over my shoulders and down, matching my movements. His left hand on my breast, the right slipped under the hem of my panties and took charge.

“You tickle your clit, gorgeous. I’ll do the rest.”

I did as I was told.

Samson inserted two of his thick fingers inside me and worked them against the spot that had brought on my orgasm the last time around.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me.”

My eyelids fluttered open and I lost my breath. Us, in the mirror, his arms around mine, his fingers thrusting inside me as his gaze caught mine. The strong nose, the beard, his arm muscles rippling with every action.

“Good,” he said. “Now, you’re going to come for me, and you’re going to look at me while you do it. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Blair.”

“Yes,” I gasped.

He increased the pressure and pinned my gaze with his, trapping me there.

My breath hitched, and I circled my clit faster, faster, my pussy clenching around his fingers. The combination of his thrusts, that constant attention, his hand on my breast, pinching kneading, and my own finger made my legs weak.

My knees buckled inward, and Samson caught me, held me upright. “Keep going, Blair. Keep going. I want to see you come.”

“Uh-huh.” I couldn’t say anything else.

I circled faster, and he matched my pace. My legs flinched, my ass pressed against his dick, hard against my lower back, pre-cum wetting my skin.

“I’m going,” I said.

I circled two more times, lessened the pressure, and sailed toward my peak.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded.

I followed the instruction. The first wave broke over me, and I clenched around his fingers, crying out. “Oh, god.”

“That’s right,” he said and plunged his fingers deep, massaging my G-spot. “Come hard for me.”

I tightened again and again, rolling through my orgasm, eyes wide open and focused on Samson. He was my focal point, the room blurred around him, and the last of the strength in my legs sapped.

I fell again but he had me, his fingers still working me through my climax.

The last quakes of pleasure passed, and I shuffled onto my feet again. “Oh, wow,” I whispered. “Samson –”

“We’re not done yet.” He lifted me from the boards and carried me to the mirror.

He pressed my up against it, my nipples to the cold surface, and I shuddered a gasp. “Oh!”

Samson planted my feet, separated my thighs. His dick pulsed and thwacked against my mound. He placed a hand on the back of my neck, pressed my cheek to the mirror.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I had no frame of reference for this but it had me tingling all over again. My pussy, still dripping from the last orgasm, needed more. I wiggled my ass and sought out the tip of his dick.

Samson chuckled, then slapped my ass cheek. Sharp pain, followed by a tha-thump of pleasure.

“Again. Do that again, please.”

He spanked my other ass cheek. “Naughty,” he said. “Looks like I need to teach you a lesson.”

“Uh-huh,” I whispered. Whatever coyness I’d held at the beginning of this week had officially disintegrated. Every cell in my body craved his touch. “Fuck me. I need you, Samson.” His reflection anchored me in the moment, his hand on my hip, biting into my flesh.

Samson ran his dick between my lips and teased my hole, dipped his head in, then dragged it out again, watching the point of penetration, even as I absorbed the sight of him doing it.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a tight little cunt. I’m going to stretch you out, Blair.”

“I want it,” I said and stomped my foot. “Stop teasing me!”

One final thwack of flesh on flesh, a smart smack on my ass, and he plunged inside me, burying his dick right to the hilt.

I exhaled, and my breath misted the mirror’s glass.

Samson’s hand shifted from the back of my neck to my hair. He tugged it and shifted my focus onto our reflections in the mirror.

He thrust into me, filling me to the brim, stretching me as he’d promised, and his ab muscles rippled. Sweat streaked down his chest and dripped onto my ass.

My breasts jiggled, and I grabbed one, kneaded it as he’d done before. Heat and pressure, building again – surely, I couldn’t come twice, not this soon.

But Samson’s rhythm, the sensation of his thickness growing inside me, his controlled thrusts and his hips working, rolling. He pulled my head back, exposed my throat, and I stared at him, mouth open, heaving breaths.

“That’s right,” he said. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” I managed. “It’s all for you.”

He growled at that, shifted both hands to my hips, and I slapped my hands onto the mirror’s surface to keep from toppling over.

Samson unleashed his full speed and slammed into me again, again, and again.

I could feel everything. Every ridge and vein brushing against my walls. His chest rose and fell; he slapped my ass again.

“I’m going to fill you up again,” he said.

“Please. I want it all.” I pressed my ass into him, widened my stance, though my legs threatened to turn into jelly yet again. “I want it all. Give it to me!”

Samson’s dick swelled inside me, and his fingers dug into my skin. He pulled me back three times, each thrust harder than the last, then tensed up. He throbbed inside me and released. More pulses, in rapid succession.

My eyes rolled back in my head at the fullness of it, the sheer ecstasy. I entered a trance. His dick was my fucking universe, and it hurled me into another orgasm. My thoughts shattered, flashes of the present streamed through my consciousness.

His scent, the black amber and cardamom. My pussy tingling, dripping with his cum, now. The slap of our flesh meeting again, and again. His grunts, the pinpricks of pain on my hips where he gripped me and kept me whole.

“Samson,” I managed and soared over my edge and into my climax. “Oh, god.”

Each quake was stronger than the last, until finally, they petered off and left me gasping for breath. I opened my eyes again, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

His broad chest, dripping sweat, hair wet at the temples, and his eyes shut, lips parted caught in his own personal nirvana, I drank it all in.

Samson opened his eyes and ran a finger down my spine. He stepped back, then grabbed me around the waist and lifted me again, carrying me toward the bed.

“Hey,” I said, “what are you doing?”

“I’m tucking you in, gorgeous,” he replied. “And once you’ve recovered, I’m going to fuck you again. Harder this time.”

“Is that even possible?”

He laid me on the mattress, tugging the sheets up and over me. “You have no idea.”

My tummy did a jig – I couldn’t conjure up anything but excitement at the prospect. Being with Samson was the cure-all for what ailed me. His touch helped me forget why I was here and what I had to do in order to pursue a real life.

But what happens afterward? What happens with him?

I closed my eyes and let the questions drift back into obscurity.