23. Sammy
23
SAMMY
M y eyes feel gritty as I blink them open. Memories of last night assault me, but before I can process them, I become aware of the heat building in my core.
Sparks of pleasure burst inside of me, suddenly exploding as ecstasy pulses through my pussy, making my muscles clench and release as an orgasm plows through me.
“Good morning, baby,” Evan moans, lifting my leg higher and rutting deeper into me while his fingers work my clit, prolonging the pleasure that I’ve barely had a chance to understand.
Parting my lips, I start to protest, but his dick hits a spot inside of me that makes me see stars, and instead of telling him to stop and get off me, my eyes roll back, and I come again with a whimpering cry.
Last night, I cried myself to sleep, horrified that he really plans to do what he threatened and ruin a boy I don’t even know just because he put his hand on my stomach. I don’t understand how I’ve gone from tears of devastation to tears of pleasure as he fucks me to two orgasms only moments after my eyes have opened.
At the party and on the couch last night, I burrowed into his body, begging for his comfort, but he refused to give it to me, forcing me—just like he’d warned—to live with the consequences of my actions. I want to hate him, but this is my fault, not his.
I knew that guy was circling me last night. I knew he planned to get into my space and dance with me. I knew I was taunting Evan, but I did it anyway. I could have walked away. I could have told that guy no. I could have gone to Evan and asked him to press his hard cock into my butt and dance with me the way he’d done before he’d left to get drinks. But instead, I’d pushed Evan to see how he’d react.
I’ve seen Sebastian and Clay lose their shit when other guys have tried to flirt with Starling and January. Last night, I watched Hunter literally pick Bunny up and storm into the woods with her, and if I’m honest, I wanted to see how far I could push Evan before he broke and behaved like the alphahole he really is. Only he didn’t break. He didn’t move. He didn’t steal me away or demand my obedience. He gave me a choice, and I chose wrong.
Suddenly, the high of the orgasm evaporates, leaving a sinking feeling of despair in its place. I can’t allow him to destroy that guy’s life for my mistake. There has to be a way to make him stop.
Last night, in my desperation, I’d told him I’d marry him, that he should punish me and not some stranger. I thought he’d accept, that he’d jump at the chance to own me the way he keeps talking about. But he’d said no. He’d told me he’d happily marry me, but that offering myself like that wouldn’t change the guy’s circumstances. But I don’t know what else I can offer him because I don’t have anything else to bargain with.
“Sammy?” he questions, nuzzling into my neck, his dick still inside of me.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the matter?” he asks, like it isn’t obvious, like last night didn’t happen.
“Did you carry me to bed?” I ask, not really caring but needing to say something.
“Yes. I like sleeping with you, especially naked.” His tone is so warm, so sweet and nice, and nothing like the robotically calm way he told me all the ways he’s going to annihilate a stranger’s life.
“We should get up. I have class this morning.”
“Why do you sound like that?” he asks.
I don’t know how I sound, but I know that the weight of the guilt I feel is pressing on my chest to the point that I don’t know what to do. Tears fill my eyes, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m crying choking, shaking sobs that have me pushing away his hands.
“What the fuck?” he questions when I squirm away from him, ignoring the twinge of pain when I yank myself off his cock and scramble to the edge of the bed.
He reaches for me again, but I bat his hand away, refusing to allow him to comfort me because I don’t deserve it.
“Sammy, come here. Stop this,” he coos, trying to calm me down.
“Are you really going to do it?”
“What?”
“Are you going to destroy that guy?”
His expression hardens. “Yes.”
Pulling my knees to my chest, I bury my face in them, hiding from the shame and guilt.
When his hands slip beneath my ass, I scream, slapping and clawing at his hold on me, fighting to get free. Ignoring my feral attack, he pulls me onto his lap, pinning my arms to my sides as he shushes me. “It’s okay, baby. It’ll all be okay.”
“I’ll never forgive you if you go through with it. I swear, Evan. That’ll be it for us. I’ll never get past it.”
Not replying, he holds me to him, pressing soft kisses to my forehead and hair. “I have to. You need to understand. You’re mine.”
“I’ll be yours, all in, no holding back, no fighting. I’ll marry you, I’ll sign a prenup like Bunny did so I can never divorce you, so I’ll never be free. I’ll do anything. Just don’t make me live with the guilt. I’ll never get past it. I’ll hate myself. Please, Evan. Please.”
I feel the rise and fall of his chest, but he doesn’t speak, and I hold my breath, wishing and hoping that he’ll reconsider.
After what feels like a lifetime but is probably less than a minute, he speaks. “Let’s take a shower.”
Hope blooms to life in my chest. He hasn’t said he’ll change his mind, he hasn’t even hinted at it, but if he was refusing, he’d have told me.
Instead of letting me go so I can get to my feet, he lifts me, standing with me in his arms. Carrying me into the bathroom, he sits me down on the counter before turning and reaching into the shower to turn on the water.
While the room slowly fills with steam, he comes back to me, pushing between my legs and staring down at me with intense, stern eyes.
“Please,” I beg again, willing to say it as many times as he needs. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m a possessive man, Sammy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I swear it’ll never happen again. I’m yours.”
His eyes are dark, emotionless depths. I’ve never seen him look at me this way, and I have no idea what it means. I don’t know if me begging and pleading to save another man is making it better or worse, but I have to try.
Lifting his hand, he cups my cheek, using his thumb to drag down the bottom of my lip and force my mouth open. “This mouth,” he purrs.
Releasing my mouth, he drags the pad of his thumb down my chin and throat. Continuing a path between my breasts, he passes over my navel all the way down until he finds my clit.
Ignoring the sensitive bundle of nerves, he dips his thumb into my pussy, pushing in deep, before he pulls it out, gathering the dripping mess of his cum that’s been slowly leaking out of me, and methodically pushes it back in.
A soft, shocked gasp falls from my lips but I don’t speak, leaning into the intensity of the moment. His eyes are full of heat as he keeps stuffing his cum into me, not trying to get me off, or build a prelude to more sex, but simply filling me back up with what he fucked into me.
At the back of my mind, I wonder why it is I’ve never asked him to wear a condom. I have an IUD, I’m clean and not about to get pregnant, but even with Drew—who took my virginity—I still asked him to use protection.
Maybe it’s because most of the time, Evan doesn’t initiate sex when I’m conscious. Instead, he’s woken me up every day since I came home on the verge of an orgasm as he fucks my sleeping body. I wish I could say that I hate it, but honestly, I don’t. It’s weird and probably a little messed up, but knowing that he’s so desperate for me that he can’t wait to get inside of me until I’m awake makes me feel…wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before.
There’s something about having the choice taken away from me that turns me on in a way I’m not willing to look at too deeply. I know that lots of women have rape fantasies, but that’s not what this is. If anyone else had woken me up with their dick in me I’d have lost my mind. But Evan is different.
He’s always awakened desires in me that I had no idea I craved. I don’t want to be owned or claimed like property, but when he does crazy, unhinged things like permanently putting jewelry on me, branding all of my clothes with his initials, and even tattooing me, my body reacts and so does my brain.
I know running from him would be futile, but if I really didn’t want this, there’s a thousand other ways I could fight his control and domination, but I’m not doing any of them. Even I’m shocked at how docilely I’m behaving, and the only reason I can think of is that deep down, I like it. I want all of his crazy, and instead of fighting, I’m leaning into his insanity and waiting to see what else he’s willing to do to make me truly his.
Curling a finger beneath the necklace at my throat, he forces my chin up, our gazes clashing together while he slowly and methodically pushes his cum back into my body. Neither of us speaks or makes any sound that could break the intensity of the moment, and when he’s satisfied that all of his cum is inside of me, he slips his fingers free and pushes them between my lips.
The taste of our mixed arousal coats my tongue, and I fight the urge not to cringe. When he pulls them free, he cups my cheek and dips his face, pressing his lips against mine and kissing me with a desperation that makes goose bumps pebble my skin.
“Please, tell me how to make this better. Tell me what to do to make you stop,” I whisper.
“I won’t let you do anything to save him,” he spits, anger in his tone.
“It’s not about him. I don’t want to hate you, Evan. Don’t make me hate you or myself.”
His expression shutters and guilt fills my stomach. I don’t know why I thought I could appeal to him. I should have known that begging for another man would only make things worse, not better, but I had to try.
Silently lifting me into his arms, he carries me beneath the warm spray. Without saying a word, he places me on the floor then reaches for the soap and starts to wash me, cleaning my skin, then hair. The silence stretches until it thickens the air, making my chest tighten and my skin feel tender and raw.
The dichotomy between the frosty silence and the tender way he’s touching me only makes me feel worse, and by the time he turns off the shower and wraps me in a towel, I’m on the verge of tears again.
Instead of watching me go through my morning routine like he did yesterday, he leaves me in the bathroom and heads for the closet, coming out fully dressed moments later. Ignoring the rumpled bed, he makes a beeline for the couch, flopping down onto it with his cell in his hand.
Not having his attention on me is weird. I should be grateful for the reprieve, but I’m not. I miss being the center of his world, and it’s only been a few moments. What the hell is wrong with me?
I rush through my skincare, then dart into the closet. Opening the drawer my underwear is in, I find more new sets and pull out a pretty black set, adjusting the straps as I fasten the bra and twist it into position. The panties are a tiny thong that would normally annoy the hell out of me. Instead of abandoning them back to the drawer, an idea blooms to life in my head. I don’t like him ignoring me. He’s spent the last eighteen months watching me, and he doesn’t get to stop now that he’s claimed me, even if he is pissed at me right now.
Dragging the barely-there thong up my legs, I glance over my shoulder, taking in how my butt looks. Will Evan still ignore me if I prance into the living room wearing only the tiny underwear he picked out for me?
The more I think about it, the closer to the door I edge until I’m leaning against the frame and staring at his back. He’s not looking. His attention is on his cell, but I wait, wondering if he’ll feel my presence and turn around.
Less than two minutes later, he does, his eyes landing on my mostly naked form.
“What are you doing?” he questions.
“How many times does this set have your initials on it?” I ask, not really caring, but needing to say something.
Shrugging, he peers over the back of the couch, running his gaze from my face down my body.
“Turn around,” he says, shifting in his seat so he can see me better.
Some of my bravado fades, but I slowly turn until my back is to him, my bare butt on show in the tiny black panties. When he doesn’t say anything, I look over my shoulder and find him staring at me hungrily.
“Your ass is perfect.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Did your…ex,” he hisses the word with a visible sneer. “Ever get his cock in that tight little ass of yours?”
He’s talking about anal. Oh fuck. I shake my head. “No.”
“He really was a fucking idiot,” Evan says quietly.
“I don’t think I want…” I start, trailing off when words fail me.
“Some people like it, others don’t.”
Parting my lips, I start to offer him…that…in exchange for not destroying the guy from last night, but his scowl stops me. How did he know what I was going to say?
“Finish getting dressed. Hunter made omelets.”
Nodding, I scurry back into the closet and start to look through the rail, my hand shaking slightly as I skip over the outfits Evan bought me in Washington, DC and instead find a dress that I know I didn’t buy. It’s not something I’d have chosen for myself, but oddly it’s exactly my style.
The cream distressed lace babydoll-style dress is somehow both cute and edgy. The thin black belt at the waist that ties in a bow beneath my breasts is adorable, and I pull it from the hanger and slip it on over my underwear. It fits like a glove, hugging my curves with the hem ending mid-thigh, short enough to show off my legs, but not so short that it’s too dressy to wear to school.
Beside it on the rail is an oversized cashmere cardigan that I pull on over the dress. On the floor beneath it are Gucci sneakers that will make the whole look casual enough to wear to school. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I sigh. Evan picked this whole outfit for me. He probably had some help from the personal shoppers the girls all use now, but he still told them what my style was and then selected this for me. I have no doubt that I’m wearing his name a dozen times over, but he still went to the effort of picking things to put his name on.
More guilt settles onto the lump already sitting heavily in my stomach. I wanted to see what would happen when he lost his shit last night, but now I feel awful, and I have no idea how to make things right.
I can’t stop him from destroying a stranger’s life, and I can’t rewind time and warn myself that pushing someone like him isn’t a great idea. Exiting the closet, I go back into the bathroom and grab my hair dryer and styling stuff. This outfit is too cute just to throw my wet hair up in a bun, so I grab a brush and start to detangle the wet strands.
Once my hair is dry, I turn on my hot iron, pushing back the sleeves of my cardigan so the wool doesn’t make my hair static. That’s when I see it. A fine chain with a tiny padlock charm secured around my wrist.
Instead of being shocked or angry like I was when I found the first one around my ankle, this bracelet allows some of the gnawing guilt inside of me to melt. I wasn’t wearing this when I fell asleep last night, so at some point, he put this on me while I slept. He might have been angry at me and the guy who touched me, but by attaching this to my wrist, he’s shown me that he still wants to own all of me, even when I’ve deliberately tried to piss him off.
Smiling softly, I finish getting ready, then follow him downstairs into the kitchen where our friends are all waiting.
“Morning,” Starling says, looking at me with the same concerned expression in her eyes that she did last night when we came back from the party.
“Hey,” I say warily.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Bunny asks.
“Better, thanks.”
“Breakfast is ready,” Hunter announces, sliding fluffy omelets onto plates and pushing them across the counter to us.
I don’t argue when Evan pulls me down onto his lap instead of letting me take the empty seat beside him, and we eat in fairly comfortable silence. Once we’re both finished, he encourages me to stand up. “Go get your stuff, and I’ll help clean up before we go to class,” he says, ushering me away.
Starling follows me up the stairs, dragging me to a stop on the landing. “What the hell happened last night?” she whisper yells.
Closing my eyes, I exhale shakily. “Evan told me if I let anyone touch me that he’d ruin them. He told me he’d destroy their life and the lives of their entire family.”
“Holy shit,” she breathes.
“When those guys came round us last night, I thought I’d push him a little, to see how crazy he’d get. But when that guy put his hand on my stomach, he went cold, like he was planning his murder. I fucked up, Starling. I thought I was toying with Evan, playing with him, but it backfired, and now he’s going to ruin that boy’s life, and it’s all my fault,” I whimper, covering my mouth with a shaky hand.
“Oh my god. And you think he’s serious? You think he’ll go through with it?” Before I can answer, she speaks again. “Of course, he’ll go through with it. He’s certifiable. They all are. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I told him I’d marry him. That I’d sign a prenup like Bunny did, that I’d tie myself to him if he just let the guy go. I told him to punish me, not some stranger, but he said no. He said he’d marry me, but not to save someone who touched something that belonged to him.”
“Fuck. You offered to marry him, and he said no?”
I nod.
“What are you going to do?”
Shrugging, I exhale a shaky breath. “I don’t know. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself if he goes through with this. It’s my fault.”
Starling’s sigh is sad and a little frustrated. “Sammy, I love you. But what did you think was going to happen? Evan is a psycho. He’s completely nuts. You’ve been here for the last eighteen months, and you’ve watched them all lose their shit. You’re supposed to be the most qualified to deal with them because you’ve seen them all in action,” Starling chides.
“I know. Okay. I know I should be better at handling him, but I was engaged to another man three days ago. And none of them have actually ruined anyone’s…” I trail off because Clay literally ruined January’s family’s lives. He destroyed them one by one, bankrupting their business and sabotaging their reputations and futures.
“You should know that nothing he says is ever an idle threat. If he says he’ll do something, it’s because he will.”
“Sammy, you ready? You’ll be late for class,” Evan shouts up the stairs, his gruff voice sending goose bumps skittering across my skin.
“I’ll talk to Sebastian. I’ll ask him to see if he can reason with Evan,” Starling offers.
“Fuck, if Sebastian is the voice of reason, I’m screwed.”
Laughing, Starling pulls me into a tight hug. “Look, I know Evan is nuts, but I’m so happy this has all worked out. I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.”
Reluctantly letting her go, I grab my stuff, then head downstairs to where Evan is waiting. “Do you have a class?” I ask him once I’m seated beside him in the golf cart.
“No, I’m only taking a couple of classes this semester, and they’re both mostly independent study.”
“Then why…?”
“We have somewhere to be after your class,” he says cryptically.
“I have two more classes this afternoon.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll have you back in plenty of time for your microeconomics class at one p.m.,” he assures me.
“Do you have to go to the library or something?” I question, still unsure why he’s coming to the main campus buildings if he doesn’t have a class.
“No. I’ll grab a coffee and catch up on some emails while I wait for you.”
“Wait, you got up and drove over here with me just to wait around while I’m in class?”
“Is that a problem? Were you planning on meeting someone before class?” His tone becomes icy, and I quickly shake my head.
“No, of course not. I just…well you could have stayed in bed. I’m confused why you’d get up for no reason.”
“I have a reason. I get to spend time with you, and sitting and drinking a latte at the coffee shop while I play on my phone for an hour isn’t exactly a punishment.” His smirk is half amusement, half suspicion.
“Okay,” I answer, feeling like there’s a deeper meaning to his accompanying me this morning, like he’s making sure I don’t allow anyone else to touch me, or he’s worried I’ll pull a Bunny and disappear.
When he parks the cart in a row of other carts, I climb out, unsure what to do now. Waving and walking away feels wrong, but he’s not exactly my boyfriend, so kissing him goodbye might be weird too. In the end, I don’t do either, and instead, I push up the sleeve of my cardigan, hold up my hand, and wiggle my wrist so the tiny metal chain and padlock shimmer in the sunlight. “Were you planning on telling me about this or just waiting for me to notice it?”
His eyes light up, then visibly heat as he takes in the bracelet he attached to me at some point during the night. “I wasn’t sure if you’d seen it yet.” He chuckles.
“Why do I keep waking up with jewelry on me?”
“Because I like you covered in my name,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“How do I take them off?” I question.
The smile melts from his lips as they curve into a scowl. “You don’t. They don’t come off.”
“Of course, they come off. Is there a trick to finding the clasp?”
“There isn’t a clasp. They’re permanent. And even if there was a clasp, which there isn’t, you won’t be taking them off.”
“What if I don’t like them? What if I want to wear different jewelry? What if I’d rather pick something for myself?” I don’t know why I’m antagonizing him, but I just don’t seem to be able to help myself.
Stepping into my space, he curls his arm around my back, dragging me into his chest and surrounding me with his big body. Cupping my chin, he gently tilts my head back, hovering an inch from my lips, almost, but not quite kissing me. “If you try to remove anything I’ve put on you, then I’ll replace it with a brand burned into your skin.”
His tone is so gentle and sweet and the complete opposite to the threat he’s making that it takes my brain a moment to process what he just said. “You’d hurt me like that?” I whisper, my voice shaky.
“I’d never hurt you, Wild One. I’d sedate you first so you didn’t feel it, but when you woke up, my initials would be seared into your skin so deep that you’d never try to remove my mark on you again. Do you understand, baby?”
Shaking, I nod my head, seeing for the very first time how truly dangerous Evan’s brand of possession can be.
“Now, do you plan on trying to remove any of the jewelry I’ve given you?” he questions, his tone cordial and light.
“No,” I whisper.
“Good girl. Let’s get you to class.”