34. Samantha
Chapter thirty-four
Samantha
I lead Stan out of the fundraiser and hail us a cab back to the hotel.
“Am I in trouble?” he asks.
“Say something,” I prod.
“You look so fucking hot right now. Did someone make you upset?”
I stay silent. And instead of taking the hint that I’m furious at him, he laughs and tries to get me to speak.
I ignore him.
Once we get to our hotel, I storm off to our room. He follows casually behind. His hands in his pockets, the swagger in his walk, and his arrogant smirk only increase my anger.
Especially because it just makes him look hotter than usual.
I’m still going to kill him, though.
We finally make it to our room. Once we’re inside, I turn to face him, crossing my arms as he closes the door and locks it. He lets out an exhausted sigh and unfastens his tie. His sudden fatigue and the bobbing of his Adam's apple suddenly have me second-guessing chewing him out.
“Thanks for taking me out of the event,” he says. “I was getting bored.”
“What did you do?” I ask him point-blank .
“Hmm? Nothing. I just met the organizers, made some small talk, gave my donation—”
“You know what I mean, Stan,” I cut him off. His playing dumb annoys me.
He takes a few steps closer, towering over me. “I don't.”
“I told you not to do anything,” I tell him. “Henry and Glorbus Construction. You weren't meant to do anything.”
“I think there's a misunderstanding, my darling sweetheart,” he purrs. “I said I'll take care of everything.”
“You promised not to.”
“I said that what you told me was safe with me. I didn’t promise that I wasn’t going to do anything,” he says. “Don’t you get it, Samantha?” He runs his fingers through my hair. “No one touches you with their filthy hands and gets away with it. I get him fired and disgraced because that would make you sad.”
“You ruined him,” I whisper.
“And that's not all,” he says gleefully with a wicked smile. “His harassment cases and files will come to light, with real evidence to back them up. He will never be able to get a job. His houses, cars, everything—they’ve all been bought in your name.”
He's not lying.
“Well…” He lets go of my face. “Your friend ruined the surprise. It was supposed to be a birthday gift.”
“Did you buy the company building?” I ask.
“I did. Along with the other offices they moved into,” he says. “But after Henry was fired, I sold them back for half the price.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, trying my best not to scream. “You can't do that because of someone like me.”
“What did you say?” His expression darkens.
I swallow hard. I dare not repeat what I said.
He places his hand on my shoulders. “Do you know what I did to the people who leaked that Selena was dating Lucas?”
“I heard rumors…” I answer.
“And that was for someone I wasn't in love with,” he says. “Imagine what I’d do for someone I love. If you ever call yourself random again or see yourself as insignificant…” His grip on my shoulders tightens, and I'm low-key turned on. “…I'll force your body and mind to see how much I love you. And how far I would go. I’m not done ruining Henry. Not until he begs and grovels at your feet. Does that sound like something I’d make happen for someone insignificant?”
A tear streaks down my cheek, but I’m not sad. I’m just awed by how much he’d do for me.
I don’t understand how the media ever touted this man as a loser and a squeaky-clean guy. He hasn’t changed one bit.
He's ALWAYS been dangerous when it came to me.
“It doesn't,” I answer softly.
“Good. Now kiss me.”
My chest aches as his lips claim mine, his big hand cradling my head like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
We cling to each other, but it’s not enough. It’s not close enough. Raw enough. I don’t know what to say to him. I can’t find the words.
All I know is I want to be cocooned in him. In his protection.
It feels like after so many years of going it on my own, working so hard to make something of myself and pleasing everyone else, I have somewhere soft to land. Somewhere I can let the worst, bitchiest, most unlikable, sock-and-sandal-wearing version of myself show and still be loved.
It’s a kind of devotion I’ve never known. It’s a refuge I never let myself dream of.
Stan's cologne is heady and intoxicating, the expert stroke of his tongue against mine sending a wildfire through my veins.
“Take this off. Now,” I bite out between kisses, unwilling to pull back enough to talk.
He shrugs off his jacket and groans into my mouth as I work at his shirt buttons. I rip the last few, not caring. If he can spend millions destroying the guy who harassed me, he can buy a new shirt .
Before I know it, we're both naked and kissing the hell out of each other. I don't even need him to eat me out.
“No foreplay,” I gasp. “I'm wet enough.”
That's all he needs to hear.
I let Stan position me on the bed exactly as he wants me. His hands are gentle and domineering all at once.
I whimper when he steps back and moves to the end of the bed, his knees bumping against my ankles as he steps close. The cotton sheets are silky between my fingers when I grip them. Cool and soft and too damn nice for the ways we’re about to deface them.
“You said you're wet enough, right?” he growls. “Now spread your legs. Want to see that tight little pussy drip for me.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, but there’s no venom; in fact, it comes out more like a plea. And there’s no fight in me at all. I let my knees slide across the sheets, feeling my wetness seep out as I do. His satisfied groan does nothing but confirm it.
“That’s what you need—to get fucked. I can see that much.” His words rumble over my spine, and I feel the heat of him as he comes to stand behind me.
“It’s what I need, too,” he adds as he runs the bare head of his cock through my folds. “What I’ve always wanted.”
He carries on teasing me, his words slow and measured.
Totally unhurried.
“So, I’m going to enjoy this. Watching you make a mess for me. Fucking you. Making you come until your legs give out and the only thing keeping this ass up for me are those pillows.”
He slides in fast and hard. Hs palms are on my ass, his cock shoved snug inside me.
“Yes,” I moan, arching my back and pushing into him.
His fingers flex.
“Wish you could see the way you look stuffed full of me, baby. It looks so fucking right.”
“Yes.” I move my hips against him again. “So fucking right,” is my hushed response, repeating his words .
His movements start out exacting and measured. Every thrust in is just as painstakingly even as each glide out. I know he’s watching me take him.
And that turns me on. Knowing he can’t look away, knowing he’s getting off on the view of me stretched around his cock.
I turn my head to meet his opal gaze. I bite my bottom lip and clench around his overwhelming thickness. An unspoken challenge that he recognizes with a growl. With fingertips that dig into my ass and measured strokes that border on punishing.
A smile touches my lips as he fucks me into the bed. Our skin slaps together as he starts pounding me hard enough that I lose purchase. I give in, letting the pillows take my weight while he forces me to see stars.
I get lost in him. His hands. His body. The way he plays mine with such mastery. It’s a blur. A high I’ll never be able to re-create.
I shatter, screaming his name, and my legs give out as he showers me with kisses. He works his way up my spine, giving one hard thrust. He follows me, erupting before draping himself over me.
Our damp bodies press together as we heave through sharp, ragged breaths. He brushes his nose against the shell of my ear, a touch that overflows with tenderness.
A touch that makes me turn my head and whisper what I’ve known for some time.
“I love you, Movie Boy.”
He just nuzzles against me again and responds with a quiet, “I’ve always loved you, Sam.”