Chapter 10
SLAYER
Bix’s sweet rose fragrance intoxicates me as I lead her to my bedroom. The full moon peeking through the floor-to-ceiling windows casts the room in a silvery glow.
“Wait,” she says, stopping me before we reach the bed. “I want to feel you.”
With trembling fingers, she traces my chest beneath my T-shirt, her touch electric against my skin.
I let Bix explore, enjoying the passion in her eyes as she traces over my tattoos.
The light, tentative sensation of her touch excites me. My erection feels like it’s going to burst out of my pants. But I’m determined to be a gentleman and make sure she has a good time.
I guide her to the edge of the bed with firm hands on her hips. “Sit.”
I’m accustomed to being obeyed, and she’s no disappointment.
Kneeling between her thighs, I glance with amusement at her Converse sneakers before removing them. So different from the designer high heels that usually click across my floors.
Then I lift up her short dress and find myself surprised at her panties. They’re not the pricey La Perla lingerie I’m accustomed to.
They’re fire-engine red and made from cotton. But nonetheless, my cock twitches at the sight of them on her small but curvaceous ass.
Something about their simplicity, their authenticity, just like her, drives me wild. And when I pull the panties aside, my breath catches.
She’s glistening with desire, begging to be tasted. I lean forward and trace my tongue along her moist folds, savoring her moans as they echo through the room.
Bix reaches down to touch herself, but I catch her wrist in a firm grip.
“No,” I tell her. “You’re under my control now.”
“But I can’t wait.” She gasps. “I want you now.”
“You’ll have to wait.” I tighten my grip slightly. “You are ordered to wait.”
I venture farther with my tongue, rewarded by her exquisite gasps as I explore her wet sex. She opens to me, surrendering completely.
“Oh yes, Sam. Yes, Sam. This is incredible. I’ve never—”
“Silence,” I command, the word carrying the weight of countless backstage orders.
She nods eagerly, biting her lip.
I resume my exploration, working my way with deliberate precision, teasing and savoring every inch of her. She tastes sweeter than any groupie, any model, any actress I’ve ever had.
“Sam,” she whispers. “Please. I need you. I can’t…” The words catch in her throat. “I need you inside me. I need your—”
“One more word and I stop completely.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation.
She nods desperately, and I continue my sensual assault. When I feel she’s ready, I sit her up on my perfectly made bed.
“Arms up,” I order. She complies, and I remove her dress in one fluid motion.
I quickly shed my clothes and climb on top of her, kissing her deeply. Her hands cup my ass, pressing my body more firmly against her with surprising strength for someone so small.
When she’s pliant and eager beneath me, I position myself at her entrance. I feel an odd resistance... “Are you okay?” I ask, propping myself up on my forearms.
“Yes, yes,” she says, her hands on my shoulders, pulling me back towards her.
I try again, nudging just slightly forward...
She gasps sharply, and not in pleasure—in pain.
Something primal in me stops cold. “What’s wrong?” I break my own rule of silence. “Tell me!”
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” she says, but her body tells a different story. Her muscles have tensed, her breathing shallow.
This isn’t normal tension or nerves. I’ve been with enough women to know the difference.
“Talk to me,” I say, pulling back to study her face. “A minute ago, you were in heaven. What’s going on?”
The dominant in me surfaces again, but this time protectively, rather than sexually. “Tell me what’s the matter. Why are you tensing up like that?”
She props herself on her elbows, her green eyes suddenly looking much younger. “I didn’t want to tell you. Everything was feeling so good, and it’s my birthday, and—”
“What does your birthday have to do with anything?” Confusion mixes with growing suspicion.
She falls back against the pillows, covering her face with her hands. The gesture is so innocent it hits me like a punch to the gut. “You want the truth?” Her voice comes muffled through her fingers. “I’m a virgin.”
“What?” The word comes out harsher than I intended.
“I hadn’t planned on this,” she continues quickly. “At the noodle bar, you were so different from other guys. Understanding. You listened to my stories...”
She drops her hands, meets my eyes. “I thought maybe you could be the one.”
Something twists in my chest. The one. Fuck. I step back, reaching for my jeans, buying time while I process this.
Three divorces, countless groupies screaming my name, women who’ve literally thrown their hotel room keys on stage, and now this innocent girl wants me to be the one.
“Bix.” I sigh. “Ten minutes ago, you said you understood this was a one-night-only kind of thing.”
“And I do!”
“You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here to deflower you or date you or…” The words sound harsh, even to my ears.
She stares at me, her eyes wide with surprise. And hurt. Goddammit.
Rafe’s mother’s voice echoes in my head. “You’re too suspicious, Sam. Always thinking the worst of people.”
But this isn’t suspicion. This is protection—hers and mine.
“Look.” I soften my tone. “Text your roommate. Stay the night. You’re half-drunk, and I’m not sending you out into Manhattan in a taxi alone.”
“But Sam...” Her voice catches. “I want you.”
She looks so small in my massive bed, all tumbled curls and trust.
“We’ll sleep. Just sleep. I’m going to shower,” I say. “Cool off. Five minutes.”
In the bathroom, I let cold water pound against my shoulders. Getting rid of my raging erection is going to take more than a cold shower, but it’s a start.
Even now, the image of her on my bed burns behind my eyelids.
When I return in pajama pants and a fresh T-shirt, I’ve got my control back. Almost. I slide into bed, keeping to my side, a careful distance between us.
But she has other ideas. That sweet ass curves against me like it belongs there. She’s still naked. Of course she’s still naked.
Because the universe wants to test exactly how much willpower I have.
“Sam?” Her voice is drowsy, innocent. Nothing like the moans from earlier.
“Mmmm?”
“Thank you. For being...” She yawns. “A gentleman.”
I wrap an arm around her waist, keeping her close but safe. Tomorrow I’ll deal with consequences.
God help me.