Chapter 36 Samantha
SAMANTHA
After arriving in Manhattan near lunchtime, we check into a stunning hotel. We are staying at the famous and cool Waldorf Astoria, a landmark in New York City.
Harry booked their best suite, and we drop our bags off. Harry then changes into a black suit, and he checks his briefcase. He has a black Mercedes waiting for him, and it’s from his main media company.
As we pause in the lobby, he’s ready to go sign the agreement and put the huge media deal to bed. I adjust his tie. “Knock ’em dead.”
I kiss my man, and he dangles the Jaguar keys. Smiling, I grab them and yell, “Wahooo.”
Harry shakes his head, and we walk outside. He then slides into the fancy long Mercedes.
“Not a scratch on her. Now, enjoy, and I’ll call you later!”
I kiss him through the lowered window, then I pause. “Love you.”
Harry smiles. “I love you too, baby.”
I smile like a crazy person, then I run and leap into the Jag that is feet away. Next, I adjust my cool red scarf and huff, “Heck, yes.”
I have already planned the amazing art galleries I want to see, and throwing a glance into the side mirror, I floor the old sports car.
I do a loud and naughty one-eighty, and I peel off.
Three jaw-dropping hours later, I am two hours behind schedule. I have no idea where the hours have gone. I have seen some mind-blowing art, but I have messed up how long it takes to drag my sorry butt around the world-class art pieces and exhibits.
I am feeling elated from the incredible visual feast, but I am also depressed about missing one key gallery. As I run out of the current gallery I should have left an hour ago, my cell rings.
“Hey,” I say, panting.
“You okay?”
“Yes, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Too much amazement.”
“That’s New York City, baby,” Harry says with a laugh.
“Yes, well, it’s too much for this little lady.”
As I run down the street, I stick to my plan to jog to the next gallery. It’s hard in NYC because it’s spread out as all heck. “I’m not gonna make the last,” I say fast.
Harry asks what the name of the gallery is, and I huff it out as I run across the street.
Cars slide to a stop, and Harry’s voice cuts in, “Let me make a call.”
“What?”
“I know people.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Of course you do.” As I run into the second to last gallery entrance, I huff out, “Going into another, call me back.” I pocket my cell, slow down, and center my energy.
Ninety minutes later, and after having my mind blown again with US, European, and global art, I walk out, shaking my head.
I check my watch and do a three-sixty, lost. I’m unsure where the Jaguar is and where I am. Before I can do anything, a horn blasts.
As I look over, I see my hot, grumpy fiancé open the door of the black Mercedes. “Get in, kid.” I squeal and run across the busy street.
Over the top, panicked car drivers freak. Tires screech, and I wince. “Sorry!”
I leap inside, and Harry shakes his head. As I drop the window, I wave to the pissed drivers, and we drive off. I drink Harry’s sparkling water as he finishes some call.
“Yes, tonight,” he says. “Three hours and private?” Harry waits and sips our water. “Look, I know it’s going to cost.”
Hitting speaker, he holds the cell phone between us. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harrison, there will be no cost at all.”
I mouth OMG as “So, eight?” comes through the speaker.
“Perfect,” Harry says. “And thanks.”
He ends the call and looks totally at ease. “So, we have a thing. At eight.”
“You don’t say,” I squeal as I leap on him.
“Easy, easy,” Harry says, smiling but new to the idea of my hot butt on him. I am now sitting on his lap, and he is still wearing the perfect black suit.
We drive through Manhattan, and the street is classy. I then start to get used to the idea.
The idea of having a grumpy Media King Billionaire of my very own. “I could get used to this,” I say as a purr. I am now looking at the brownstone homes, trees, and mansions out the windows. “So, you’re not just some hot farm boy from upstate, after all.”
Harry laughs as I look back to make sure the driver can’t see us. The black divider is up, so the driver won’t be able to see anything. I slide quickly down to my knees and unzip Harry fast.
“Samantha, no.”
“Yes,” I say, trying my new husky voice.
“No way.”
“Learn to relax!”
Harrison looks torn, and then he shakes his head and sighs. “Okay but make it fast.”
“As you request,” I say.
I lick the crown of Harry’s hard cock, and he groans. He then holds my face softly as I start to pump him and suck hard.
As he starts to writhe, I fuck him ruthlessly with my wet, slutty mouth.
Within minutes, I have him bucking, and he starts to pump into my mouth. He suddenly holds onto my head, and he comes hard into my throat. Finally, I lick my lips and slump onto the seat next to him.
Harry shakes his head and zips his suit pants up. “Country girls in the city!”
I laugh as I drink the sparkling water.
“I can’t bring you anywhere, can I?” Harry asks.
Without an answer, I lie back on the huge leather seat. I then give him dark, hot eyes. I pull off my sandals, placing my legs on my man’s lap.
Harry breathes deep and calms his still racing heart. His eyes are still dark, and I recognize his hungry look.
As he stares at me, he slides a hand under my skirt. I lean my head back and slide down on the black leather seat.
Harry pushes my panties to the side. He then licks his fingers and slides them deep into me. I arch my back like a cat, biting my lip.
Harry watches me close. Using his second hand to slide the skirt up, he circles my clit with his magic thumb.
I lean back and spread my legs. I place one high, near a safety belt hook, and my foot jams into a useful place. My other leg locks in on the side of Harry. The new foot positions help me spread my legs, and I move my butt into the best spot.
Watching me close, Harry works me ruthlessly well.
With nothing to bite on, or to kiss, to stifle my whimpers or even hide my face, I close my eyes and start to moan.
I know I’m getting loud, and halfway through shattering and bucking in the car, Harry leans over. He wraps a hand over my moaning mouth, and I want to bite down on it.
Suddenly, my world explodes, and sparks shoot out of every cell of my body.
I am shot full of bliss, and its center is my tight, wet pussy. Finally, I stop surging and I slump down, used up.
Harry pulls my panties off me, placing them in his suit jacket pocket. He then helps me straighten my skirt, and I give him wicked eyes. He winks back and thumbs my lower lip. “You’re mine forever, and don’t ever think you’re not.”
I am unsure what to think of it.
Deep down, I like it, and I like it almost as much as I like him.
After we pick up the Jaguar and drive it back, we have a long shower in the timeless and classy hotel. Then, we have a small dinner downstairs.
I adore the famous landmark hotel, and I want to see more of it. There is only one problem: time. At seven-thirty, we are picked up, and we are driven to the last art gallery.
It is just as well we have the place to ourselves. It is massive, and it is mesmerizing.
Someone has arranged an amazing picnic for us and they have even left a perfect table and chair set up in the gallery.
As we walk in silence with champagne and canapés, we feast on the world-class art.
What is cooler still is the fact that the table has been placed in front of some of the best and most expensive art in the world.
That is when I realize, Harry is perfect.
The only real problem is when he fucks me, he doesn’t know when to stop. He also makes me come like there is no tomorrow. But with him, now, I know there is a tomorrow.
Because he is mine, and I am his.