Sam falls apart beneath me and I’ve never witnessed anything more beautiful. My pace quickens and with an arch of my back and whispers of encouragement from her, I empty inside of her, giving her every part of me in hopes she can see what I’m hesitant to say. I have to overpower the need to claim this woman in ways I never imagined I would.
Her eyes are glossed over; she feels it, too, but the fear I see there keeps her at bay.
“I know you felt it.”
“Walt,” she whispers, her head shaking back and forth.
“I’m willing to wait.”
“Take what you want because this can’t happen again after tonight.”
I laugh out loud at her audacity to think one night would ever be enough.
Yep. That accomplished it. The Sam I see every day pops right back into place. I don’t resist when she pushes me off her, flipping us so that she’s on top again. Who am I to complain? I fucking love being under this girl.
“I’m serious,” she says harsher this time, and her hands pin mine above my head. I lean up and suck her nipple into my mouth.
“Walt, I’m serious.” She tries again, but her body has its own agenda. Her hips begin to grind against my cock as if I’m her own personal sex toy and it is fucking heaven.
Releasing her breast and freeing my hands, I pull her mouth to me and put every ounce of what I’m feeling into our kiss. My hands hold her hair back, showcasing her long neck. I stop to tell her that she is stunning, and there is no one walking this earth lovelier than she is. She blushes and tries to divert me with kisses, but I hold her in place.
“I won’t forsake you, Samantha.” The thought of letting her down makes my insides want to revolt. “Trust me.”
She lowers herself onto me. It takes only a split second for our bodies to reconnect.
“There is no way you have ever felt this with anyone else. I know I haven’t.”
She doesn’t respond. Instead she rises and falls, and I can see the shimmer of come on my dick as she rides me. Her bell-shape curves making me want to fall at her feet in worship. She maneuvers herself around so that her back is facing me. She pulls my foot against the bed and leans against my bent leg, her legs straddling mine, her sex grinding against my thigh while my dick continues to claim her. She lays her cheek against my knee and the sensations coming at me are more than my mind can catalog. Just seconds ago, I didn’t think there was a vision more appealing than watching her come apart, but this one is racing to be a close second. My hands knead her arse, helping with her motions. I slap her right cheek hard, leaving a handprint. My dick jumps in response. He likes that. So, I give him what he wants and slap the other cheek just as hard. Sam leans forward and grinds harder against my leg, increasing her pace. We’re minutes away from another orgasm, and my soul easily imagines hundreds more. I feel Sam’s wetness against my leg and over my cock as she comes in long violent shakes as number four rips through her.
“We should get up.” Sam mumbles.
She’s relaxed after hitting number six. Six orgasms over four hours. I mentally give my dick the thumbs up. He hasn’t been this happy in a long time.
“Five more minutes,” I murmur into her hair, leaving a kiss.
“Finn should be back any minute with the girls.” She sits up but doesn’t move off her bed. “I want you to take the next few days to think about this. We’re still in the shallow end. We can walk away from this and still keep our relationship like it is.”
“Who can?” I bite a little harder than I intended. So much for showing her patience, jackarse.
“We can. I mean it, Walt. I can’t lose you all. It would take something from me that I’m not sure I would survive. I want you to think about this. We can still walk it back.”
“One minute, one hour, one day. None of it is going to change how I feel. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t have to worry.”
She chews on her lip. I get the feeling that she would like to have it in writing. A guarantee. Something that gives her the assurance she needs.
“Sam.” I release a breath. “I’m seconds away from saying those words, but I fear it would freak you out more. I don’t need to walk this back.”
“All the more reason to take a couple of days.” She leans forward and kisses me tenderly.
My heart and my mind are chanting over and over, “I love you”. But I hold my tongue and try to see this from her perspective. That is the only way I will be able to comfort her and make her feel protected.
“I don’t want the girls to know yet.”
“Okay.” I can easily agree to that one. The last thing either of us wants is the girls to get caught in the middle while we figure this out.
She slides off the bed and I yank her back for one more kiss. One more caress.
“Sam. I’m so in…with you,” I say. “You take the days for you. For me. You’re it.”
There. I don’t know how else to say it without saying it.
She leaves me without another word. I wonder if I should have just told her. My mind starts running through everything that just happened—every little thing. I throw the covers off me and pace around the room, obsessing. I throw on my clothes and head out of the room. I need to get out of here.
I practically run to Finn’s floor, and fling open the door to see Poppy twirling around in front of Colin. She is wearing her pink tutu over her cupcake pajamas. She comes to a stop and tells Colin it’s his turn. When his attempts fail, she critiques him, making him try again.
“Colin isn’t as dainty as you are,” I remind her. He gives me a flip of the finger on a turn that only I can see.
“Oh, I’m dainty,” he protests right before he has to catch himself from falling over. Poppy pops a hand over her mouth to hide her smile.
“Bedtime, Miss Thing,” Sam laughs, walking into the room. She must have been watching from the sidelines. I will her to look at me, but she doesn’t.
“You, too, Zinnia,” Sam says.
“You know I’m ten years older than her,” Zinnie pouts.
“You do remember how many times I had to wake you last week. And that you received your second tardy on Friday.”
“Sounds like you need more sleep, kiddo,” Finn says, pulling her off the couch. “On with you. No back talk.”
“I can take her,” Sam smiles, poking at Zinnia as she levels us with kisses before heading to the stairwell. Poppy makes a minor production of her goodnights, taking far longer than necessary.
“If you need me to come in for the Seleske meeting, I can,” Sam tells Finn.
“You have your first presentation this week. That is your focus. If I need you, I’ll call you.”
“Fine. Don’t forget. Wednesday. Two o’clock.”
“What’s happening Wednesday?” I ask Finn once Sam and the girls have left.
“What was happening upstairs?” he asks. I quickly put a finger to my lips. I’m not ready to tell the guys yet.
“Well, I’m out. Got a hot babe waiting for me.” Colin saunters out of the kitchen with a bottle of water. “She’s the kind of girl that likes doubles. Fancy a go? Like ye good ole’ days in uni? I mean how long has it been since you got any? I know Camilla wasn’t giving it up.”
“As enticing as you make that sound, no. And don’t talk about Camilla like that.”
“She was a bitch.”
“She never misrepresented who she was. She didn’t change. I did.”
“Sorry, Zinnie forgot her book,” Sam says, reentering the room with a slight blush. It’s evident she heard our conversation.
“Of course, you could make me the happiest man in the world and I wouldn’t have to seek out another,” Colin teases Sam, pulling her into a bear hug. My fingers dig into my palms and Finn nudges me.
“You’re growling,” he whispers.
“Sorry, sweet Colin. I’m a one-man kind of gal. I never share.”
Yep. That reaches the tips of my toes.
“I assume you know what you are doing?” Finn asks when Sam and Colin have gone.
“Yes, I know what I’m doing,” I placate. “Sam is the one that has decisions to make. I know exactly who and what I want.”
“Yeah, well, if this goes sour, she’s the one that stands to lose the most.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? Jesus, I have never felt this way for a woman before. I assure you, if this goes sour, I’ll be the one losing.”
Finn clamps a large hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze, of…what? Support? Understanding? Warning? I’m not sure, and he doesn’t say before sending me on my way.
“Come on, girls,” Charlotte says, helping Poppy into her jumper. She is taking her to school today. I have a meeting I’m already running late for, and Sam went to bed only an hour ago. Her presentation is today. She stopped working on it last night just long enough to have dinner. After that, she insisted she was just putting the last touches on her PowerPoint. I checked on her every couple of hours, forcing her to go to bed when I knew there was nothing left for her to do. Even then, the only way I persuaded her was to point out she didn’t want to look exhausted in front of everyone today.
Sam is presenting on paid maternity leave and why it makes both ethical and economic sense for developed countries to offer it. I was stunned to learn this country is only one of four in the world that don’t offer it. Swaziland, Lesotho, and Papua New Guinea round out the other three. Somewhere along the way, her presentation came across the desk of the Dean of Business, and she sent Sam an email wishing her well and letting her know she would be in the audience, along with the department heads. If it goes well, the Dean would like to submit it for a TED talk.
Charlotte works from home and offered to help Sam and me out this morning, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m rushing to a meeting I have in five minutes. My responsibilities win out, but what I really want to do, all I have wanted to do since that night, is make love to Sam. We haven’t spent more than five minutes alone since Sunday. I think it’s purposeful on her part. I’m trying to respect her request for time and to give her space to get through today.
“This is my brother, Walt Nelson.” Finn introduces me, and my day takes off from there.
“I’m heading to Sam’s presentation. You want to ride with me?”
“What?” I question looking at my watch. It’s 1:15. I went to the apartment an hour ago to make sure Sam didn’t oversleep, but she was already gone.
“I’m heading—”
“I heard you. What I mean is, I didn’t know we could attend?”
“I can. I’m listed as her mentor,” Finn says as I stand and follow him to the lift. I tell Maria where she can find me, ignoring the irrational jealousy I have even at the mention of Finn being her mentor.
I could have mentored her. I rather hope to in more ways than one, I muse. But I make myself stop. My dick is thickening and this is hardly the place for it.
“Perfect timing,” Quade calls out as we enter Finn’s dark SUV.
“The girls are meeting us there. Colin and Pierce aren’t going to make it,” he says as he crawls in.
“Am I the only one that didn’t know we could attend?” What the hell? I’ve been inside this woman. I think that gives me certain rights to know more than the others around me. I make a mental note to correct her. Hopefully, on her knees.
Traffic is heavy, and by the time we make our way across the campus, the auditorium is full. Charlotte, Zoe, and Grace are seated near the front. Here early, I presume. We get the last of the seats on the second row from the back.
The lecture hall is larger than I anticipated, and I wonder if Sam was aware she would be presenting to more than—my eyes scan the rows—seven hundred people.
A professor introduces a young man. He’s presenting on the refugee crisis in Europe, and it’s very enlightening. It’s the sexier of the two topics, that is true, and I find myself wondering how paid maternity leave can compare.
Professor Blume, the professor we met and Zinnie loved, stands during the polite applause, and once he has spent an adequate amount of time thanking him for his presentation, he moves to Samantha.
“As a professor, you strive to impact your students. It’s rare that a professor is graced with the fortune of meeting a student who impacts your teaching to its core.” He makes a show of tapping his fist against his heart.
“Gag me,” Quade says under his breath, and the girls in front of us let out a flirtatious giggle.
“This next presenter is that student for me. Her tenacity and her thirst for knowledge have impacted my teaching in ways I can’t explain.”
I tune out the rest of what the fucker is saying. I hate that it’s his tongue her name rolls off of. He eye fucks her as she takes the podium and I imagine gouging his eyes out.
Sam thanks him for his introduction, makes a polite joke at his expense, then proceeds to school everyone in this room. If I didn’t hate the fucker already, I would say that I now understand what Blume was saying.
She has the room in the palm of her hand. She’s polished, well versed. She reads the crowd like a seasoned pro. She knows when to pause. She knows when to push. She knows how to captivate. By the time she finishes, I’ve already made a mental note to change our policy to include paid maternity leave. Finn is thinking the same; I see him typing a note in his phone about including a PR showcase. Like Sam said in her speech, companies must understand their moral obligations and step up to lead the way.
I wasn’t expecting it, but I was not surprised to find she touched on areas of women in executive positions and equal pay. She makes a clever but retrospectively obvious connection between the pay gap and paid maternity leave, but she knocks it out of the park at the end when she argues that a move toward paid leave should include fathers and legal guardians, as well. That last bit is what blows the last presentation out of the water. By the time she finishes, the applause is boisterous, and the women in the room no doubt feel the empowerment Sam wanted them to. The Dean thanks everyone for attending and dismisses the lecture.
“Gentlemen.” A deep baritone draws my attention to the row behind us.
“Graham.” I shake his proffered hand and introduce him to Quade. “Quade, Graham Taylor.”
“We’ve met. What brings you out this way?”
“I was wondering why all the co-eds were drooling in this direction,” Emme Taylor laughs as she finds her way to her husband. Graham’s arm wraps around her and he kisses her temple. “I should have known once I saw all the suits.” She fans herself. “Samantha did an amazing job. So much so that I already typed an email to the head of HR for Taylor Enterprises with a directive to offer paid leave.” She raises a brow to her husband as if to say, “Don’t even think of protesting it.”
“I saw that.” Graham’s smile tells me he would give every human paid leave a hundred times over if it made his wife happy.
“She did phenomenally well,” Finn agrees. “I sent the same email. What brought you to the lecture?”
“The young man that spoke was in our intern program. We came out to support him.”
“You should be proud. He did well,” Quade states.
The Taylors excuse themselves, and we take a seat to wait on Samantha. She looks delicious in a navy-blue pencil skirt. Her hair is pulled into a smooth ponytail. The jacket to match her skirt has a large bow at the collar. It’s chic and feminine while exuding power. At least that’s what I heard Zoe tell her last night when she helped her decide what to wear. Of course, she’s rocking her heels. She looks like a million bucks. The smile on her face is one that can only come from the relief of having finished a large project.
She’s talking to the Dean and what appears to be other professors. They all laugh at something she says, and Blume uses the opportunity to rest his hand against her back. Slowly, he moves it to the curve of her waist. That’s all it takes. I descend the stairs two at a time.
“Mr. Nelson,” the Dean says, surprised by my attendance. “This is Walt Nelson of Nelson Financials.” She introduces me to her department heads. When I make it to Professor Blume, he has to remove his hand from Sam to shake mine.
“To what do we owe the privilege?” the Dean asks. I imagine myself sliding my arm around Sam and kissing her temple, making it known that she belongs to me and every wanker in this circle can piss off. Then I imagine her cutting my balls off for disrespecting her, especially after her speech for women empowerment. So instead, I slide my hands deep into my pockets, insuring my balls stay where they are.
“Miss Abbott works for our company. My brother Finn is her mentor, and we have a vested interest in her career.”
“With mentors like this, I can see why your professors are so enamored with your academia. You’re getting firsthand experience from the best.” The Dean laughs, and I make a mental note to pledge a donation to the school in her honor, because the look on Blume’s face is worth every dime.
Finn and Quade have joined us, and after I get a warning look from my brother, we allow ourselves to be pulled into a quick tour. Sam excuses herself. She has to close down her presentation so that the class that has gathered behind us can begin.
This is twenty minutes of my life I can never get back, I think as the tour comes to an end. Finn deserves a medal for engaging them in conversation. I simply observed. Something I’m sure he’ll be pointing out to me on the way home.
“I know what I heard,” Quade says loudly. He wasn’t on the tour, opting instead to chat up the pretty girls in front of us. We turn towards his outburst—his face is red, and Sam has her hand on his arm as if to calm him. I don’t know what she’s saying, but he immediately closes his mouth and crosses his arms across his chest. He says something back to her and then stomps in the direction of a closed door. Finn follows Quade.
“Everything okay?” I ask. Sam smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “It is. I apologize, but I need to leave to make my next appointment. Thank you again for your time, Dean Tarver. I appreciate it more than you know.” She smiles and shakes her hand.
I excuse myself quickly and follow Sam. By the time we reach the car, Finn and Quade are circling it like sharks out for blood.
“Don’t insult—” Quade starts.
“In the car now,” Sam says before he can finish.
We climb in and before the door is closed, Sam and Quade are going at it. Finn has to let out a sharp whistle to separate them.
“Quade.” Finn looks to his left, holding a hand up to stop Sam from speaking.
“His hand was on your ass.”
“And?” Sam retorts.
“What do you mean and? And it’s not fucking supposed to be there.”
“And?” she asks again.
“And he needed to be told.”
“Not by you he didn’t. I was handling it.”
“Not fast enough.” Quade slams back against the seat and glares at the woman in front of him. I can’t remember when I’ve seen him so angry.
“You didn’t give me the chance.”
“What happened?” I ask. She hears the immediacy in my voice and she answers without any preamble.
“Blume made a pass at me. Quade walked by when it happened. Before I could make it clear nothing was going to happen, King Kong jumped in.”
“King Kong. I like that.” Quade loosens a little and considers the title.
“Good job, man.” Finn clamps a hand on his shoulder. “Shut it,” he tells Sam. “Doesn’t matter if it’s you, Zoe, Charlotte, or Grace. The response would have been the same.”
“Can we go home first please? I want to change before picking up Poppy,” Sam tells the driver. She doesn’t respond or engage us in a conversation.
We drop Finn on the office level before Sam and I take the lift to our apartment. She drops her bag in exhaustion at the front table. “Go rest. I’ll get Poppy,” I tell her.
“No. I didn’t get to take her to school today. I don’t want to miss picking her up, too.” She says removing her jacket as she moves down her hall. I tug her arm pulling her against me, my hand entrapping her wrists behind her. Leaning against her, I run my thumb down her side, imprinting my thumb print on her skin. Invisibly marking her. Branding her.
“I know you can handle yourself, but I have no problem making sure Blume knows it.” I rub my hand across her arse, reclaiming what’s mine. She begins to grind her sex against me, her skirt inching further up. “You belong to me. And I belong to you.” I add, because dammit, I want to. In any way she will have me. She moans and I lift the cup of her bra up exposing her breast.
“Do you think of me when you’re alone?” I ask in her ear. I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s filled with a want and need for this woman who has turned my life upside down. When she doesn’t respond to my possession I give it a slap as well.
Yep. She likes that.
“Yes,” she whispers.
My dick turns into an iron spike behind my zipper. “Have you made a decision?” I ask. It’s a risky question. I am hoping it’s not too risky. Patience is not my forte, and the thought of going another minute without knowing makes me jumpy.
“No.” There’s a smile in her tone that makes me wonder otherwise, but before I can press her, she says, “You have ten minutes to convince me.”