Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
Bree
W hat did he just say to me?
I stare back into those smoldering emeralds, so brimming with desire that I know he's drunk off his own words. Just as he's reminding me about the times we were together, he's imagining them, too.
He's the one who's hard, and if I'm wet, it's supposed to prove something, that we're both getting off simply on the memory of what we shared. The smug fuck.
But he's right, damn him, he's right.
I feel my lids flutter as I internally shift focus to the slippery heat between my thighs. Yes, god yes, I'm wet. It's just that little recognition that makes me lose everything, even as hot streams of tears continue to stain my cheeks.
In a flash, I'm closing the distance between our lips and slamming my mouth to his, a whimper betraying the sudden need possessing me, taking over.
I give myself over to him.
For the briefest of moments, I feel his lips curl against mine in a smirk. He welcomes me in, accepting my kiss before his fist is balling up in my hair, pulling so tight that I gasp and break the kiss. I hiss as the pressure grows tighter, then slackens, and a delicious ripple of pain and pleasure races down my skin.
Heavily, my lids open, just halfway, just to give me a peek at him, and he's drinking in my expression, the way I'm baring my neck to him, tilting my head back, offering myself. I moan and shut my eyes at the naked hunger on his face, anticipating him all over me.
"Take me, Sam," I plead, sensing that he's only holding me like this to revel in his control over me.
And not a second after the words are out of my mouth, Sam's teeth and tongue are on my throat, making me squirm as he releases my hair to find my wrists with his hands. He pushes me back on the touch and pins my arms above my hand, keeping me in place with just one of his large hands. I arch my back off the cushions, my body alive with the need to be touched, to feel whatever he wants to give me, the sweet and soft or the strict and rough.
Sam's kiss silences the stream of low encouragement I can't help from spilling out of me, and his free hand attaches to my jeans. He thumbs them open before jerking them off my body in strong, impatient tugs, taking my panties with them.
"You didn't tell me, so I'll have to find out for myself, won't I?" Sam growls, his fingers diving between my wanting folds.
"Nn-aah!!" I cry out, pushing my pussy against his probing fingers.
"Just as I thought. How long were you wet, my little bunny? How long were you waiting for me to touch you?"
My mind can only focus on the way his fingertips slide over my clit, mashing the sensitive bud before plunging into my depths. Two fingers plunge upward and massage hard.
"Don't fucking ignore me," Sam says through clenched teeth, fingering me harder for emphasis. His teeth bite into my neck, and I yelp and squirm uselessly in his tight grip.
"Wh-whenever you're close to me," I manage in a fierce whisper, riding his fingers, working my hips to help him punish my g-spot. "My body reacts to you."
"Because you know you belong to me." I can hear the grin in his voice. "You weren't just waiting for my touch, though, my slutty bunny. You wanted me to taste you."
Sam's fingers slip free from me, and before I can protest, he's sucking them clean, giving his approval with a deep groan that makes my pussy clench.
"Taste me, Sam," I whimper.
Sam drops a kiss on my lips, briefly letting our tongues touch. Then he's releasing me and diving between my legs without hesitation, his mouth wide open and attaching to my core with another groan. I feel the vibration, the heat, and shiver in his mouth. With one hand, I hold the back of his head as he starts to lap at me hungrily, and my other hand squeezes hard at my breasts.
I can't keep still, can't keep quiet. And mercifully, my mind can't hold on to anything but what he's doing to me.
Sam's stubble pricks me each time he frenches my pussy, his tongue spoiling my clit with knowing precision. He's keeping me right at the edge of pushing him away and losing myself in the exhilarating stimulation. No, I don't shy away from the roughness—I lean into it, grinding into his mouth, letting him build me up.
Every groan from him electrifies me. He's loving this as much as I am, getting lost in the taste of me. He keeps up with how fast my hips buck in his face, and I'm taking sharper, faster breaths, getting closer, so fucking close.
"Aii! Fuck, Sam!"
Sam suddenly pulls back and spanks my pussy sharply. I cover my offended flesh with both hands, but damn, it felt good. I bite my lip and writhe, letting the pleasure blanket me, but he has other plans. He quickly flips me over, and I feel his hand cupping my ass cheeks.
"Yes, Sam, yes," I whisper into the couch, pushing my ass into the air.
"You want this?" he asks, giving me a little spank.
I nod, biting my lip again. I don't know what he means exactly, but I know I want it. I want whatever he wants to give me. My hole feels starved for him.
"Dirty girl," he says, licking his lips.
Then he's diving face-first into my ass, and I feel his tongue snake out.
"S-Sam!!" I cry out, but he subdues me without a word, without even holding me down as I try to squirm away from his ravenous mouth.
I slowly succumb to his attention, never having felt a sensation like this. I drop helplessly to the couch as his tongue circles and laps, and my pussy weeps with excitement. Fuck, it feels too good. My hips, on their own, start backing my ass against his face.
"That's my slutty little bunny," Sam approves. "Here's your reward, baby."
As if I wasn't overwhelmed with pleasure already.
Two fingers slip back into my cunt, his thumb positioned at my clit, and he continues to eat my ass, reducing me to a bucking, mewling mess.
"Sam, oh my god, Sam," I cry, very near tears.
I've never felt so much pleasure at once. I'm soaking his hand and making a mess of the couch as he makes a mess of me, coaxing me closer to the edge. I give it all to him, shamelessly taking my dirty pleasure, my moans filling the room louder and louder until I'm shaking with the force of my orgasm. It comes so suddenly that I can't even announce it, I just ride it out, needing it more than anything else in the world right now.
I can't catch my breath, can't move a muscle.
But Sam isn't done with me, I know that when his thick, hard length is kissing my drenched pussy, seeking entrance.
"Sam!" I call, not even sure what I want to say.
"You don't want it, baby?" he murmurs, but he knows the answer.
Despite myself, my hips are bucking again, my hole begging for him to slide all the way in.
"Fuck me, Sam, take all of me," I plead, inching myself on his dick. "Please fuck me, make me come on your dick."
And then Sam makes me scream.
He slams all the way home, filling and stretching me in one swift thrust. I'm so sensitive that I can hardly take it, but the new heights he's sending me to with each thrust turn me fuzzy all over. I feel his body press heavy and hot on top of mine, and his lips find my ear, but I'm making too much noise to make out a single word. His dick plunging into me has halted my hips for once. All I can do is take his delicious assault.
Sam slows the stroke, switching to deep and steady, like he's savoring my pussy, and that only drives me crazier. That agonizing pace is milking pleasure out of every inch of my pussy.
"Harder, baby," I whimper. "Faster!"
Sam responds with a chuckle, ignoring my request. "This is the way you like it, Bree, just like this. Isn't that right?" He easily pins my wrists above my head again, covering my mouth with the other hand. "Aren't you glad to have a man who will fuck you just the way you like it? You think you want to be fucked hard and fast, but I know what you really want. You want it juuust like this. You want me to work you up slowly so you can really explode."
His voice is low and thick, but I can hear the effort it takes to keep himself in control. And I know he's right. Nothing feels better than getting helplessly worked up like this, having no choice but to take it.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as I nod at his words. The fight goes out of me, my body relaxing beneath him. I give in again, give over everything I have, just like I want to.
"There you go, baby, just take it. Show me how you like to come."
Sam's hand slips from my lips and attaches to my waist, his dick digging out my cries. As I start to chant his name, I hear him swear under his breath, his panting mingling with my voice. I know he feels me getting close. My pussy is clenching hard, wanting him to stay buried, wanting us to stay as one.
And when I feel his hand in mine, hear his whispers in my ear, commanding me to come for him, I let it all go, screaming my pleasure as I come hard. He doesn't hold on for much longer—he's filling me with his hot seed in the next moment, each spurt making him buck.
Warmth spreads inside me, deep, lightness starting to overtake me. Our heavy panting mingles, and between breaths, he drops kisses on my back, murmuring praises here and there.
We're still one right now, connected, sharing something. His heartbeat is thumping against my back, and he's letting some of his comforting weight rest on my spent body.
I hold on to the moment for as long as I can.
When I hear the shower switch on, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I'm sitting on Sam's side of the bed, listening to the sound of the water running, wishing like hell that the afterglow of our sex had lasted longer. The afterglow was disappointingly brief, and as it faded away, anxiety and nausea settled in its place.
I've been able to dodge Sam's concern by faking fatigue. That's party true, but nothing is weighing me down like the reality of the fucked up situation we're in.
Sam orchestrated the death of his parents, and he's been stalking me for years, so deeply rooted in my life that I shudder to think what he's seen me do. How, exactly, does he know how I like to be fucked, for instance? In the moment, when I was at his mercy, I was living on his words.
Now I just feel violated and sick.
I stare off into space, numbness creeping over me. I close my eyes gratefully. I'd rather have blankness than the rush of fear and emotion. I don't know how to deal. A man has never made me feel like he has—is it because he's been stalking me? And it's over now. Can't that excuse the past behavior if we agree on a blank slate?
I scoff out loud, startling myself at the same time.
Fuck no.
I can't let myself be so pathetic just because the dick is good.
But isn't it more than that?
I angrily shove that thought aside. Sam seems to think I've fallen in love with him. Is he supposed to know me more than I know myself just because he's a creep? No, there's no way he can separate fact from fiction in this mess any better than I can.
Besides, what happens if I want to leave? Would he allow this years-long investment to slip away?
I heave a huge sigh and shake my head, my vision finally focusing on the thing I've been staring at this whole time. It's a little piece of fabric caught in the drawer of Sam's nightstand. Something so tiny wouldn't be worth getting confused over, ordinarily. But this little piece of fabric looks… lacy.
I reach for the drawer, paying no mind to the fact that I'm intruding on him. We're well past that point by now. And when I open it up, I can't even react to what I'm seeing. It's a familiar sight. I have a drawer like this back in my apartment, although my collection is bigger, naturally.
But what is Sam doing with my panties in his drawer?
My eyes shut heavily in defeat, and my body starts moving on its own. Maybe that's why I sat on his side of the bed rather than on the side I've been claiming. Maybe I knew all along that I wouldn't stay here long.
I don't have an excuse for him. There's nothing I can think of to make this all right, and my panties in his drawer proves it all—Sam is more depraved than I even know.
I don't know Sam as he is at all. I can't stay with a man like that.
My heart grows heavier with each step, the sound of the shower fading into the background. I make my way down the stairs and into the living room, my eyes quickly sweeping the space, looking for anything I might have lying around. It's better to get it all while I can.
I'm not coming back.
I dress silently and pull my coat on, my mind empty. The last thing to do is give that back. I've had it for too long, but it was never mine. It's always been Sam's.
I fish it out of my purse, finding it by touch, and set it on the table in the living room. How attached I'd become to it, my little Companion. But I was just talking to Sam all these years.
Not anymore.
Without a look back, I say goodbye.