Chapter 34 Harrison
HARRISON
Over the next few days, we settle in at home. We get to know each other better, we spend time with Tusk, and I take Samantha shopping.
Tusk is in good spirits, and it’s lovely to see him and Samantha get to know each other. I’ve not invited many women to the estate, ever. And every one of the three that I had freaked out on seeing Tusk.
Samantha had not, and if Tusk likes her, I like her…
A lot.
The only thing is, I have noticed Tusk slowing. It has gone on for a year.
We have talked to several vets, and several have checked him. They have all done blood and other tests.
They all simply say he, like us, is aging.
I am still nervous, so I ask them to increase his mineral and vitamin intake. I know he is old, and I know older folk need to up their intake. It is all I can think of.
I must trust the vets and let it go.
On the way to buy Samantha more formal clothes, in case we have work dinners in NYC, I tell her I’m going to transfer her fee. Her fee for the fake engagement.
The crazy vixen shakes her head in the dark blue Bentley. She then refuses to give me her bank account details, saying she still feels weird about it. Also, that it’s bad karma.
I know William already has her account details, naturally for her salary, and I will transfer the funds this week.
As we drive on, Samantha tells me she will also refuse to let me pay for the formal clothes.
I need to convince her not to sweat it, so I tell her it’s just in case. Just in case things don’t work out.
“How’s that?” she asks, looking over, confused and nervous.
“Have a think about it,” I say, driving the newer Bentley and feeling her eyes on me.
“If things don’t work out between us. And you, say, become my chef again, you will need more conservative clothes.”
“What? And why?”
“Let’s say I get a real wife. Like, some spoilt, entitled, conservative old-money type.”
“Like a boring Edwina or Tiffany?”
“Exactly,” I say, playing along.
“You’d get bored!”
“Likely, anyway. There is no way she will want your hot butt around the home serving me. Especially in my shirt or your hot denim skirt! You. Need. More. Clothes!”
I say the last part flatly as I drive the Bentley through the leaves.
Samantha raises an astounded brow, then she looks dumbfounded. I drive on, heading towards several stylish boutiques. Samantha then lets loose fast, and she tells me I’m a dick.
“You want a dick?” I ask, serious and acting stupid.
Sam bites her lip and looks straight ahead. She puts her bare feet onto the Bentley’s walnut and leather console and runs her hand through her hair.
Her legs are apart, and I want to be between them.
As the wind blows her hair, I am forced to inhale.
“Don’t tempt me now, woman,” I command her. “I will pull over, and I will take you against a tree. You know I will.”
“Yeah, you say that,” she says. “As if I won’t like it.”
As I drive, I hold the wheel and growl. I then shift in the expensive leather seat. I’m getting hard, fast.
I am tempted to drive into the next set of dense oak trees and pull her pants down and take her on the hood of the Bentley. Hard!
We don’t go all the way to the upstate city, and we find the designer boutiques I had seen online. We also find a wicked lingerie boutique.
As Sam tries on the most incredible black, white, red, and yellow lingerie sets, I get a message from Tokyo.
It is the last thing I want to deal with now, but I take a quick glance. The Japanese have signed!
All I need to do now is sign tomorrow in NYC with Troy and Rhett.
The combination of having the deal off my chest and Samantha calling me out about over working, but in a cool way, makes me feel calmer.
Her explaining I should learn to live in the now was wise. I had been living for the future for so very long. I’d also been so engrossed in media, and the advertising and entertainment industry, I’d stopped really living.
I had been encouraged to be successful by my family, but that was another matter.
Having Samantha around is grounding me. She is also becoming good at calling out my bullshit. When I’m being way too serious, way too grumpy, or way too silent and cold.
Although, at night, she seems to be fine with this.
Me commanding her. Me claiming her. Me controlling her.
And me making her come.
We have a heated debate about time on the way home with the clothes. Sam argues intelligently and as good as most attorneys I deal with.
I try to argue time is valuable and that time is precious. Also, that we can never get it back, thus the wasting of time is foolish.
The sassy vixen with her fringe, who is successful in her own right, tells me I’m a dick. A dick because I’ve forgotten time is relative.
And that time is ultimately all in our minds.
She is not entirely wrong, and we debate the concept in length as I drive. We talk about amazing sunsets and how powerful they feel. Also, how amazing they appear.
The thing is, they happen over minutes. Not hours, and not days.
We then discuss, in contrast, the pain of waiting in queues for sporting events, concerts, or bars, or any kind of place.
I think her time-relative concept through, and even if I don’t like it, she is correct.
“I don’t like it when you’re right,” I say, driving us around a gentle bend.
“Well, get used to it,” Sam says, playing with the delicate and spectacular yellow bra she is now wearing.
“You just need to start living in the now, and not the future. You have done that long enough, and you have picked up bad habits. There is something else too.” I try to keep my eyes on the road. It is getting harder. Her finger on the bra is distracting, like her. “Faith.”
“What?”
“Faith! You’ve been so busy building for the future and trying to stay ahead, you’ve avoided the concept that things will work out fine, as long as you do this.”
“What?”
“Stay alert and simply keep an eye on things.”
We share a look, and she raises one of her sexy eyebrows. The thing is, it’s so fucking hot with her fringe.
“Babe. Have. Some. Faith.”
Sam leans over in the Bentley’s large leather seat and kisses my cheek.
“Things are going great, and there is no reason to imagine they won’t, right?” I am unsure about that, but things are going well. Heck, we are on fire. “And really, how much is enough?”
I drive up to the front of the chateau, and we get out with our bags and boxes of clothing.
“Look,” I say, doing a three-sixty. “I’m taking a break, and I am consolidating. I’m also now fucking shopping.”
Samantha laughs, and I can’t help joining in. It’s nice to take it easy, for once in my life. “That’s good because you deserve to live a little, babe.”
I nod and open the front door of the chateau for her. We enter with our large bags, boxes, and treats.
“So, are we good?” she asks as if it’s a real lesson.
I nod, and then I lift her fine chin. “Did you make that up then, or did you practice it?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes,” I say, meaning it.
“A mix,” she says before laughing and running.
I drop my boxes and bags on the marble steps and chase her up and into the chateau.
Finally, I catch her two stories higher and pin her down on the white marble steps. I then tickle her, hard. She squeals loudly and high-pitched until I kiss her soft, sensitive stomach. She then slows and plays with my hair.
I decide to check on her yellow panties, and they look stunning under the denim skirt.
We share a look, and her eyes are wanting and needy.
I pull the new yellow panties down her legs and push her legs apart. I am sure we will hear William if he’s in the building, and I start to eye-fuck my woman.
As I slide down, I bury my head between her legs. I then taste my wise and wicked girl. I savor her like she is a fine wine.
I then devour her as if she is my last meal on earth.