Chapter 8
Samara
I lied to him! My shift finished at three, I just told him what he wanted to hear so he would leave me alone. Walking out of work, I look around to make sure he isn’t there—he shouldn’t be, I told him five. Except he is there and smirking at me, with sunglasses covering his face and a devilish smirk touching his lips.
“It didn’t work,” he says, opening the passenger door of his car and holding it open for me.
“You couldn’t have known,” I tell him, stepping forward.
“I didn’t, I just guessed that it was close or around the fake time you gave me. It was just a matter of working out how early to get here. I’m glad I chose a two-hour time difference. I would have missed you otherwise.”
“You’re keen,” I say, shaking my head and stepping up to his car. Now that I’m standing right near him, I can smell him. His scent is everywhere, and it makes me go crazy with want.
“Keen for the p… u… s... s… y... baby.”
“You did not just spell out pussy to me like a teenager.”
He grabs my hand, places it on his crotch and squeezes, so my hand gets the full package. “Does this feel like a teenager to you, kitten?”
“It feels like… if you don’t let go of my hand right now, you may have an extremely bruised cock.”
He drops my hand so I can have it back, then waits for me to climb in, watching my ass the entire time. Even as he shuts the door to walk around to the other side, I feel his eyes on me. Anton is funny, witty, but most of all, sexually promiscuous and an addict who may be too much for me. Especially with the amount of times he wants to fuck. I’ll be sore, forever.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
He smirks as he turns the corner. “Back to mine. I told you, one last time.”
“Then you will leave me alone?”
He stops the car, but this time it’s not at the front of the massive mansion of a house, it’s at the back.
“I will.” I can feel the truth behind his words, he certainly believes them. I don’t like that thought, though, the truth can sometimes be a bitch.
Walking into what I guess is a guest house—which is more than triple the size of my bedroom—he pulls me in while taking his clothes off, starting with his shirt. Coming straight off, he tenses all those glorious muscles in his back covered in ink, then he drops his jeans. He’s wearing nothing underneath them as he walks to the fridge, opening it, and pulling out a bottle, then turning with glazed eyes and they land on me.
“Get naked before I tear your clothes from your body, Sam.”
Inside isn’t as bright as it is outside. The curtains are black and the only natural light that feeds in is from the front windows near the door, plus the kitchen. And despite all that, I feel absolutely fine getting naked in front of him, whereas most men I don’t. Yes, my job involves getting naked, and yes, I’m very good at it, but I wear a disguise. Make-up covers my face and body, especially over my scar. Plus, I can’t see anyone because the lights on the stage are set up that way.
When Anton’s eyes are on me, though, I see the lust written in them. The way his hands skim my body, the way his lips touch my scar as if he doesn’t care it’s there, as if it’s beautiful. Maybe to him it is, he has his own fair smattering of scars over his body.
My clothes start dropping as he steps closer with a bottle of champagne in hand, his eyes still glazed and his lips quirked up. They rake me over as each piece of clothing is removed, and I feel like a goddess, similar to how I feel when I’m on the stage dancing—
the power you hold over knowing those people are there to see you even if you can’t see them and you are immersed in your own little world.
Anton is here for me, and me alone. That’s the power I have over him. Maybe that’s why I suck at aiming for a solid “no” around him, but I seem to never achieve that “no.” I knew after the first time I should never go back, but then I got sucked in again, and now the third time which he says is the last time. This is the final time I’ll have my fill of Anton, and I’m about to take it knowing that’s it for us.
He reaches for me, but I pull back then I turn around, showcasing my ass he’s so fond of. Then I bend forward showing him all he wants. Because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s being a tease. I’ve mastered the art. It’s my job.
I feel him come up behind me. He taps my ass with his hand, then leans the base of the champagne bottle on my lower back, while I stay in the same position. I feel his erection pressed into the bottom of my legs, wanting to squeeze through. Anton’s hand rubs up and down my ass-cheek, pawing it before it disappears, and then he pushes his cock harder into me, but not entering. Just teasing.
That’s when I hear it. The pop. The bottle opens, and his loss is immediate as I’m left doing a yoga pose with my ass still in the air for his viewing pleasure with champagne dripping all down my legs between my ass and pussy. It’s removed, and I hear the clink hit the floor. Arms are around me, lifting me up, placing me on the back of the couch. I turn facing him, so I’m upside down, my legs open and his face mere inches away.
The side of his lips quirk up as he looks down at me, then I reach up for his hair, pulling him to me so he knows exactly what I want. Yes, I agreed to one last time for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be serviced as well. Because I know how good this man is with everything sexual, and I plan to milk it for all it’s worth.
Our lips collide as more champagne is poured. Opening my eyes, I see the bottle back in his hand, and I’m balancing on the top of the couch now with his hands between my legs as I pull away from his lips.
“That’s not where I wanted to taste,” he says with a smirk.
My hands slide up my wet body, I’m going to be sticky after this, of that I’m sure. I reach for his hand and slide it between my legs to that magical spot, then I sit back up and reach for his hair as I pull him to my legs, directing him exactly where his mouth needs to be.
“I like it when you’re greedy, kitten,” he purrs and the vibration shocks through me as his mouth kisses me on my lips below. My hand drags through his hair, gripping it as he fucks me with his mouth.
I want this to never end.
Then I shake that thought off as he makes me come.
I sit up and stand, dropping to my knees in front of him, gripping his cock with both hands and placing it in my mouth. He moans, and I know he likes it. My tongue dances around his cock, and when the tip goes down further then back up again, I can taste his precum. He grips my hair and pushes me in, lets go, pulls back, then picks me back up again and places me over the couch.
“Bad, kitty.” His hand slaps my ass. This time it wasn’t play, it was hard and sexual. I moan, then wonder how the fuck that left my mouth.
Then he slams into me, hard and fast, my ass in the air, my head upside down and my feet not able to touch the floor any longer.
“Purr, kitty.”
I shake my head, out of breath.
“Purr, kitty,” he screams it again.
“Fuck you, just fuck me,” I say to him while breathing heavily.
Anton grips my hair, pulls it, then stops moving and slaps my ass again, while he’s inside of me.
“Purr for me, kitty, fucking purr…” he says right near my ear then bites it. His teeth nibble, and I try to move, wanting the friction back, to which he laughs in my ear. He lets go of my hair and slides his hand around to my breast, pinching my nipple and pushing me into the couch so I can’t move.
How can he restrain himself so well? I’m wanting to climb the walls because he isn’t moving!
Then I do it.
I fucking purr.
Just for his cock.
Bastard.
He laughs, but the moment he does, he loosens his grip, so I rock into him, getting my friction back, which makes him shut up and grab my waist.
Then he takes control and fucks me the way he should have from the beginning.
Like a whore.
Not his plaything.
We’re sticky, that’s for sure. It’s dark outside now as well. Anton is lying on the tiled floor while I struggle to sit up. I need to wash this all off of me. He doesn’t move, so I turn back to watch him. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful. It’s so unlike him. His skin is so soft, the ink mars his skin, and a manly scent that drives me crazy.
“I can feel you staring.”
I roll my eyes as he opens his while turning back around. “I need to shower,” I say, standing.
Anton grips my ankle as I go to move. “I’m coming.”
I shake my head. “No, you aren’t.”
I shake my leg until I’m free and walk off to find the bathroom and lock the door. Quickly I jump into the shower and wash away the stickiness.
When I’m finished I open the door with just a towel wrapped around me, and he’s standing there, still very naked and smelling of sex, and… me.
“Why do you have a scar?”
I shake my head and try to push through, but he stops me by blocking my way, then pulling the towel down so my scar is visible to him and he strokes it with his fingers.
“I want to know why?” he asks, then looks up at me, those green eyes pinning me. Holding me still.
“I have to get home, Raven’s on dayshift,” I say to him, still held in his trance. “You said one last time, this was your one last time.” My words seem to break his spell because he steps back, letting me through to get dressed. “Can you take me back home?” I ask, pulling my jeans on.
Anton nods while reaching for his own clothes and getting dressed. He doesn’t speak, which is very unlike Anton, as we walk to his car. Then as he drives me home, he doesn’t utter another word.
When we stop at my apartment I turn to him, expecting him to say something, but he looks forward lost in his own head. I know it’s the last time I plan to see him, so I lean over and kiss his cheek before I climb out. I notice his surprise, but he keeps quiet and doesn’t get a chance to speak as I get out and run to my own set of stairs. Opening and shutting the door, my back falls against it as I catch my breath.
Anton was unexpected.
I don’t want what he has to offer.
Or so I thought.