Chapter 27

Blair

I clutched the stem of the champagne glass, wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed until it would surely snap. “Samson,” I said, breathless. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you that I’m serious,” he replied, hand still in his pocket. “I owe you an apology for the weekend.”

“No, we went over this already. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” I relaxed a little and put down the glass. For a second there, I’d been sure he was about to do something totally crazy. “We don’t need to talk about the weekend. Let’s just move on.”

“There are a few things you don’t know about me,” he replied. “Things you need to know.”

“Like what?”

“I never told you this but I had a hard life.”

“Your aunt –”

“Yeah, yeah, that was only the beginning,” he said and drew his fist out of his pocket, held it down at his side.

God, what is he hiding in there? I gulped, then chewed on the inside of my cheek, tenderizing the soft flesh there. “Okay? Samson, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing.”

“Quit it,” I said. “You know I don’t do shit I don’t want to. I want you to know this about me, because I know so much about you, already. And because I want to spend time growing with you, learning more about you.”

Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.

“When I was younger, I was a bad kid. I guess, that’s not true. I was a product of my environment. I was still ambitious and did what I needed to do to get by. But that was the trouble, you see. I have a record. Petty theft, no one hurt, but it’s there. I spent a lot of time doing shit I shouldn’t have to get where I am today.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I understand that, and I’m not going to judge you for anything in your past. You haven’t judged me for mine.”

“That’s not all. I owned strip clubs,” he said. “And until I met you, I didn’t figure it would ever be a problem. But it is, now. I want you to know that I sold the clubs, and I’ve invested in alternate avenues.”

“Oh,” I said. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to hear that. I wasn’t super insecure but the thought of him around half-naked women all day didn’t exactly fill me with joy. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did, Blair. You’ve changed everything for me. Before you came along, I was drifting. You saw something in me and I saw something in you, and for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m drowning in boredom. I don’t feel alone anymore.”

My throat clogged up and my eyes prickled immediately. “I feel the same way.”

“Do you?” He dropped to one knee. “Because if you do, if you love me like I love you, I need you to answer this question, truthfully.” He opened his fist and upon it lay a black, velvet box.

“Samson –”

“Blair Scott, will you be my wife?” He opened the box and the ring inside it glinted, reflecting flicker from the candles on the counter. A princess-cut diamond, set in silver? White gold?

My breaths came short and fast, huffing in and out. And I gripped the counter, swayed.

“Whoa, whoa,” Samson said and leaped up from the polished boards. He caught me and held me against his chest. “There’s no pressure here. I just want you to understand how serious I am about this relationship.”

“Samson,” I said. “I love you, I do, but I’m not going to marry you, right now. I’d much prefer to get to know you, to date you, and to be with you again. Before the ring comes into it, I mean.”

He chuckled, closed the box, and stuck it back in his pocket. “It was a long shot,” he said, “but I wanted you to know how I felt, how deeply I felt for you. And this was the best way to show it.”

“Coulda just bought me flowers,” I grumbled.

Samson’s laughter rumbled through the room and vibrated in my chest. “I’ll do that next time. I didn’t mean to scare you, gorgeous.”

“You didn’t.” I sucked my bottom lip. “Okay, maybe a little but it doesn’t matter.” I leaned against him, tucked my head into the hollow beneath his chin, and inhaled the black amber and cardamom, and the scent of his skin.

His hands traveled down my back, over the baggy sweater, and to my waist. He held me there, pulled me back, and kissed me again.

His tongue massaged mine, slow circular motions that deepened the meaning of this moment. I clung to him, needing more, wanting more. I have to have all of him again. I have to be with him again.

Our lips parted, and I breathed, “Is there maybe, like, an office or something where we could be alone?”

“This way,” he said and guided me past the empty frames – the ones I’d soon fill – between dividers, and to a misted glass door in the back. He unlocked it, opened it, and led me through.

I stopped just inside and laughed. “Are you kidding?”

“Just in case the proposal worked out,” he said and winked.

The desk had been shoved against one wall, along with an executive-looking chair. The wooden boards were hidden by a picnic blanket, checked, and sprinkled with rose petals. Cushions lay around the edges, and two candles flickered in glass holders on the desk.

“You know, it’s dangerous to leave a flame unattended,” I said.

“Yeah? I like to live dangerously,” he replied. “Also, those are flameproof holders but whatever.” He kicked the door shut, then bore down on me, stripping off his shirt as he did. “God, I’ve thought about you nonstop this week. Non-fucking-stop.” His muscles were just as tight and tan as I remembered.

My mouth watered for him, to taste him and feel him inside me. I didn’t undress, just stared, overwhelmed. This was like the first time all over again.

“Here,” he said and tugged my sweater off, dropping it on top of his shirt.

My awe finally broke, and I slammed my body into his, kissed his pecs, his nipples, a trail down his abs, to the fine line of hair that led to the hem of his jeans. I had to have more, now. Right fucking now.

Samson’s laugh rumbled again, like thunder on a clear summer’s day. He gripped me by the elbows, lifted me back up, and kissed me hard. Sucked the breath right out of me. Everything hazed and swayed.

His hands traveled over my body, taking fistfuls of flesh, and stripping away the clothes. My jeans, his jeans, my panties, his shoes. Everything fell away, and it was just us again, nothing separating us except thin air, and that wasn’t enough to quench the flames that had leaped up between us.

“Take me, please. I need you. God, Samson, I need you.”

He kissed my neck, sucking and biting, working his teeth along the line of my throat and down, further, to my breasts. He pinched the skin around my nipples, and fell lower still, licking, tasting, grunting with every kiss.

I couldn’t stand when he was like this – insatiable. I buckled.

And Samson caught me. He lowered me to my knees in front of him, until we were face-to-face. His dick brushed my skin, trailing wetness, hot and hard for me.

“I told you,” he said. “You’re mine.” Samson ran his hands over my breasts, down the flat plane of my stomach to the cusp of my pussy. He pinched the flesh on my mound, a gentle squeeze but didn’t feel my wetness.

“I can’t take it,” I said.

He’d barely touched me, and I was already panting for him.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to be inside you again,” he whispered. “You’re made for my dick, Blair. Did you know that? You’re made to have me fill you up.”

“Please,” I said. “Please, please. Samson.”

“On your stomach.”

The command sent pleasure curling through me, and I followed it, instantly. I lay down, parted my legs, and rested my forehead on my forearms.

Samson lay down on top of me, pressing his weight down but never allowing himself to rest fully on my back. His abs brushed my ass, my back, and my eyes rolled back – the brush of sensitive skin gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘bareback.’

His cock brushed between my ass cheeks, prodded my tight little hole, then slipped lower to my pussy lips. He rested on one arm next to mine and kissed the side of my face, lower, to my chin and then neck.

His dick ran between my lips, to my clit, and back again, collecting the juices, spreading them, sending shocks of bliss through both of us.

“Don’t tease,” I whispered. “Fuck me.”

“Say it again,” he replied.

I tossed my head, shook back my hair. “Samson, fuck me. Now!”

He entered me in one powerful thrust, filled me to the brink. Pain and pleasure mingled in a perfect symphony and we cried out together. I closed around him, tight, and his shaft scraped against my G-spot, creating that strange yet fulfilling pressure that inched me closer to a breaking point.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. The candles flickering were a blur.

Samson pounded into me, holding my arms down.

I twisted my head back and my lips found his again, our tongues met, breaths mingled.

He went harder, kissing me still, driving me closer and closer to my orgasm until I finally broke over the edge and screamed into oblivion with him.

Samson’s orgasm came a second after mine, and we pulsed in tandem, my walls tightening around him, milking every last drop of his cum from deep within, and his girth widening yet again, impossibly hard.

“Samson,” I moaned.

“Blair,” he whispered, against my lips.

Our eyes met, and I sucked in a breath at the tears that gathered in his. He blinked and one escaped.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

He rolled off me, then dragged me onto his chest and arranged my arms for me. Good thing, too, since I had pretty much no strength left after that. Samson kissed my forehead and stroked the back of my neck.

“You’re home now,” he said. “Blair, you’re really home.”

I kissed his chest. “I think you’re right. And you know what?”

“What?”

“So are you.”

We lay together, our legs intertwined, our hearts beating in time, and were free.