Chapter 25
Keeland is gone by the time I wake up the next morning.
Thank god!
I’m confused enough as it is. The last thing I need is an awkward ‘morning-after’ interaction to muddle things up even more.
The first time we had sex, I chalked it up as a one-time indiscretion…but then, it happened again. I catch a glimpse of the four empty foil wrappers in the garbage bin next to my bed.
Four times?
Yup, four times.
I roll gingerly out of bed. I'm absolutely gutted. Sore and raw in the most delicious way. And my mind is spinning. My body has betrayed me over and over again, sexing it up with my sworn enemy. I hate that it felt so good.
I take a quick shower and get dressed for the day before heading downstairs. I start the coffeemaker and tackle the second box of Master Ink receipts with renewed fervor. The faster I get this work done, the faster I can cut all ties to Keeland Masters and try to salvage what’s left of my sanity.
My concentration is shit, though. All I can think about is his cock filling my throat and his fingers tangling in my hair and his –
A sudden knock at the back door startles me out of my daze. I stand and straighten the sash of my blue satin wrap-around dress when Keeland slides the door open and sticks his head inside.
“Hey, do you like English muffins? I made you a breakfast sandwich.” He kicks off his shoes and saunters into the kitchen, holding a ball of bacon-scented aluminum foil out to me. “Gotta keep your energy up if we’re gonna keep fucking like we did last night.” He winks brashly.
I’m blushing hard and my heart feels all fluttery. I snatch the sandwich out of his hand. “Keeland, you can’t just show up here every time you get a hard-on. I’m not some kind of – ”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he holds his hands out defensively in front of him. “Don’t get all weird on me, Sammie. The sandwich is just a neighborly gesture. I’m actually here on business.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?”
He walks past me and sits on the lip of the table. “Yes. Really.” That’s when I notice that he’s carrying a manila envelope under his arm.
“What’s that?” I ask, dropping into a chair.
“Maxwell had this couriered to me this morning. There’s someone interested in buying Master Ink from me. I’ve got lawyers in California looking over the legal terms of the offer, but I wanted your opinion on the asking price. I think it’s pretty generous but I wanted to double-check with you.” He slides the envelope across the table to me.
I place the envelope on top of the box of receipts. “Okay, no problem. But, I won’t be able to give an opinion on the offer until I’m through with the bookkeeping,” I tell him. “And I’m nowhere near done.” I stand to walk him out.
I can’t spend the day chitchatting with Keeland. I’ve got work to do. And besides, I know very well that, with him, a few minutes of innocent chit chat can easily turn into naked bodies grinding each other into the linoleum floor.
“Yeah. Fine.” He eases off of the table, about to leave, but he pauses at the door. Seriousness settles on his brow. “Are you gonna do this whole guilt-trip thing every time we fuck?”
“What guilt-trip thing?” I say, flipping my hair and trying to act casual.
He laughs. “You’re such a good girl, Sammie. I’d bet you’re terrified of Daniel finding out about us.”
He’s teasing me, taunting me. He knows me too well.
He approaches me, backing me up against the kitchen counter. “Don’t let your heavy conscience get in the way of a good time.”
He knows how to push my buttons. He knows that calling me a good girl will rile me up and make me eager to prove him wrong. His hand slips between us, sliding through the slit in my dress. There’s a war going on inside of me. My desire to prove that I’m not guilty battles against the urge to keep my distance from him.
But when he slides his fingers across the lace edge of my panties, I sag against the counter and give in. A conceited grin unfurls across his lips as his hand creeps beneath the flimsy material and across my damp core. His touch is soft and teasing and my body silently begs for more. I hum impatiently when pushes my panties aside and his fingers slip inside of me. Twisting, exploring.
My hips jerk wildly, chasing after his touch. I hear the arrogance dripping from his voice when he leans into my ear and whispers, “You love it, don’t you, Samantha? You love the way I dip my fingers into that tight, hot pussy.”
I should probably push him away and slap him across the face for talking to me like that, but his conceited words only make me wetter and more eager for him.
Now, he’s moving faster, curling his fingers to find that elusive spot that makes the whole world explode into a mess of lights and tingles and sensations. And when he finds it, oh when he finds it, it’s like the floor melts beneath my feet and an earthquake shakes inside my bones. My core contracts around his fingers and I howl in ecstasy.
He holds me by the waist, softly thrusting his semi-erection against my bare pussy as I recover from the impromptu finger-fuck. "Be honest, Sammie. Have you EVER had this much fun?"
I’m still reeling as I shake my head reluctantly. No, I haven’t.
"So, what’s there to feel guilty about?"