Chapter Ten Crazy Love
Crazy Love
Samantha
I’M LATE. I’M NEVER LATE. I’M absolutely always on time or early.
Never. Late. I throw the box at William, “Hold this,” and slip into my Creative Coding class, knowing William will either follow or stand sentry at the door.
I can’t think about which, and I most definitely can’t think about the box that was delivered to me moments ago as we walked to class.
William nearly tackled the guy as he approached me.
After the third degree, checks of the delivery guy’s credentials, and pictures taken of all of it, I was left holding the box.
I stared at it as if it might give its secrets away by the mere fact I was giving it a death glare.
When nothing happened, and with William’s quiet reminder of the time, we jogged the rest of the way to class.
I settle at a desk near the door, easy in, easy out.
My professor gives me a nod and glances at the door as if she’s waiting for William to follow.
When he doesn’t, I get a questioning look before she turns her attention back to the projector and her lecture.
As it was when I had FBI protection my last few months of high school, nobody asks me about my protection, but it’s obvious someone gave my teachers a heads-up.
This time, I’m sure it was Joseph or Michael.
I pull out my laptop and wake up the screen, thankful I turned it on earlier. Soon, my brain focuses on the images, formulas, and statements on the professor’s projected screen, and all thoughts of the box waiting for me fade into the background.
After two more classes and lunch, I take the box from William as we sit at a table in the commons area.
Turned so he can’t see the contents, I unwrap it to reveal the same type of shoebox I’ve received two times before.
I lift the lid and set it aside. I don’t have to touch the contents this time to see what is inside.
Side by side, possibly affixed to the bottom of the box to ensure maximum effect, is a picture of Joseph.
Next to it is a letter. The same type of letter I’ve received before, but this time the punch is a little deeper seeing his face right next to those words.
“Sam?”
I look up into the blurry face of Michael standing over me. I blink a few times to clear my tears. The sadness in his eyes is too much. I place the lid on the box and hand it to him. “Take it to Joseph.” I brush away my tears and look at William. “I’ll be late for class.”
He nods and collects our trash, disposing of it while Michael keeps watch.
“Come with me.” It sounds like a plea, but coming from Michael it can’t be. I can’t stick around and watch tough-as-nails Michael go soft on me.
Shaking my head, I stand and gather my things. “Tell Joseph I’ll see him at home.” I walk away before I change my mind and melt into his concern and the idea of finding comfort in Joseph’s arms.
Joseph
My two o’clock meeting is interrupted by a text.
Michael: We have another package
Luckily, I’m not the one presenting, nor am I key to this meeting. I make my excuses and exit the meeting with Teddy in tow. “Clear my afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.” He heads to his desk as I enter my office to find Michael standing at my desk, his back to me, looking down.
I stop and close my door. “Samantha?”
He turns. “She’s still at school. She said she’d see you at home later.” The Grim Reaper look he’s sporting tells me this is worse than the others. How can it possibly be worse?
“How bad?” I set my laptop down on my desk, giving wide berth to the box, catching only a glimpse of the letter inside.
“Bad.”
“Are you gonna make me look, or can you just tell me?”
His eyes lock on mine. “You need to see it the way she saw it.”
“Fuck.” I close my eyes, like I need the reminder that my girl is being inundated with this shit over and over again. I steel myself and move around to stand next to him.
Inside the box is a letter on the left and a picture of me on the right.
It’s close-up from the mid-abdomen up, looking down on me, like whoever took it was sitting on me.
I’m in a bed, my head on a pillow, white sheets.
It could be my college bed or any hotel bed—any fucking bed—it’s impossible to say.
It can’t be too old of a picture. I look the same age, maybe a tad younger.
My hair is a sticking out as if I, or someone else, has had their fingers in it.
And my face…Jesus, my face…has a look of pure ecstasy.
I’m coming—hard, by the looks of it. “Fuck me,” I sigh.
“Yep, that’s pretty much what it looks like.” I’m getting no sympathy from him. He seems pissed. “Read the note.”
I know this face well.
It’s the one he makes when he fills me with his cum.
Sincerely,
Joseph’s baby girl
“Goddamnit!” I’m about to lose it.
Michael grips my shoulder. “Calm down. I need to ask you some questions before you go all caveman.”
I pace to the window, close my eyes and breathe slowly in and then out until I feel calmer. “Okay.”
“Come look at the pic again, and tell me what you see.”
I stomp to my desk and scrutinize the box’s contents. “I see me. In a bed. White sheets. I’ve got fucked-up hair. And…” I clench my jaw as I look up, meeting Michael’s gaze. “…and I’m having an orgasm.”
He smirks. “Yeah, that’s one sight I’ll never get out of my head. Your come-face.”
“Fuck off.” I try not to, but he makes me laugh. “You’re just envious.”
Ignoring my comment, he continues. “Do you know where this was taken? When it was taken? Who you were with?”
The questions go on and on like an interrogation until my emotions have settled, I’m feeling numb, and his queries are exhausted.
My best guess is this pic is from college and may or may not be my bed.
I have no idea whom I was having sex with, but I’m positive I wasn’t alone as I’ve never taken a sexual selfie in my life—plus, most of the time I jerked off in the shower, not in bed.
Thankfully, my sex life with Samantha leaves me with no need or desire for self-gratification. I want all of her pleasure, and I want to give her all of mine.
“Are we done? I’d really like to get home to my girl.”
Samantha
I’m not a drinker, but after today, I need something to help me quiet the voice in my head.
The one that shouts he’s cheating on you, and you’re stupid enough to believe he’s not when the evidence is staring you in the face.
It’s a mean, nasty voice. I take a glass and an open bottle of wine to the balcony.
I’m on my second glass when I hear the door open and Joseph step out.
His eyes roam over me and then the wine bottle.
He sits next to me on the chaise, finishes off my glass, refills it, and then holds it to my lips.
I take a sip, my eyes glued to him. His tongue licks across his bottom lip as he watches me, heat flaring in his eyes, causing wicked thoughts of his tongue to take flight.
I nearly groan when he takes a deep drink and sets it aside.
His jacket, shoes, and tie are already discarded somewhere inside.
His shirt is untucked and lies open, his every movement highlighting his taut chest and abdomen.
“Samantha,” he breathes as his lips brush mine.
It’s just my name, but it sounds more like I’m sorry… I love you… Don’t believe what you see.
My sob is consumed by his mouth, tender and passionate, pleading and demanding.
He tantalizes my senses, and my body explodes with need to consume and be consumed.
I’m famished, starved for something my body knows only he can provide.
My hands dwell under his shirt, pulling him closer, but when his bare chest comes into contact with my clothed one, he groans his disapproval, pulling away enough to remove the sweater I put on when I came home.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls when he sees I’m braless.
His head dips, pushing me down on the lounger, his hands and fingers squeezing and pulling at my breasts.
His tongue flicks over my nipples, making them hard before sucking them deep.
With a pop, he releases one before he moves to the other.
His hands grip the waist of my leggings, and in one clean motion, he relieves me of them, my panties, and my socks.
I’m naked, and the cool October breeze sends goosebumps rippling across my skin.
Green eyes of fire look up at me with a quirked brow, asking too cold to say outside?
When I don’t object, his hands and mouth continue to lave me in his love.
His kisses move lower, and my moans of pleasure merely feed his fire.
He lifts my legs, pushing my knees to my chest, spreading me wide, and he dives in.
There’s no slow buildup of kisses down my thighs, around my pussy, teasing my opening.
No, he dives tongue first, slipping inside me and kissing me like it’s my mouth—long, deep, and probing.
“Oh, god, Joseph.” I try to buck my hips, but I’m locked in place, only able to take what he gives.
The more I thrash, the hungrier he gets.
His forearms rest on the back of my thighs, holding me open.
His hands tease my clit and play with my breasts, working me into a frenzy.
My cries echo around the balcony, turning me on even more thinking someone could hear us.
I doubt they can see us, but my excitement ratchets even higher.
“I can’t. I can’t,” I cry out, needing more, needing less, needing him.
“Yes,” is all he manages before his entire mouth covers me, his tongue fucking me, his sucking on my clit in time with his fingers pulling on my nipples.
In a move worthy of wrestler pinning his opponent to the mat, Joseph holds me down as I buck and shatter around him, crying out to him, to God, for mercy, for more, for him.
As my contractions abate, Joseph releases his cock, rubbing his head over my clit a few times before sinking inside. “Sweets,” he groans. Kneeling on the chaise, my legs over his arms, his eyes latch on to mine, feral and hungry as he thrusts.
For leverage, I hold on to the sides, but it’s of no use, I can’t hold back my caveman. He needs this. He needs to claim me. He needs me to know I’m his, and he’s mine.
“Look at my cock, baby.”
My eyes break from his and lower to where we are joined. It’s so hot watching him slide in and out of me.
“I’m covered with your sweet juices. This cock belongs to you. It only fits your hot and hungry pussy, only yours.”
I clench around him. “Joseph.” He’s gonna make me come again.
“Watch, Samantha. Watch what you do to me. I only come undone for you.” He wraps his arms tightly around my thighs, adjusts his thrusts, and when he hits that magical spot inside, I’m the one starting to come undone.
“Fuck, I can feel you. You’re so ready, baby.
” He presses his thumb to my clit, and I spiral out of control.
“Yes, Sweets. Fuck, yes, take me with you.”
On a scream I don’t recognize as my own, I come so hard as he pistons deliciously in and out of me with quickening strokes. My mewling mixes with his as his orgasm overtakes him. My eyes never leave his as I relish the look of ecstasy on his face, the look of love in his eyes.
He has that look. My heart sinks.
The. Look.
That matches.
The one.
In the picture.
The look that was for somebody else.
Not me.