Chapter 3 – Ashley
The door to the hotel suite hasn’t even fully clicked shut behind us before the restraint we maintained during the drive here completely dissolves.
We’re on each other instantly.
The tension that’s been simmering between us since we violently collided backstage—the heavy, magnetic pull from the terrace and the suffocating heat of that booth upstairs—explodes the second we are behind closed doors.
Samuel lets out a low, rough growl, the plastic hotel keycard slipping from his fingers and clattering uselessly against the floorboards.
Before I can even draw a full breath, his massive arms are wrapped securely around my waist, his large hands anchoring me against the solid, unyielding length of his body.
He lifts me slightly, completely erasing our height difference, and pins me against the door, kissing me with a raw, demanding vigor that leaves my head spinning.
His lips are hot, possessive, and entirely unhurried, yet filled with a hunger that tells me he’s been waiting for this exact second all fucking night.
My hands fly to his shoulders, my fingers gripping the expensive fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there isn’t a single millimeter of air left between us.
I am not feeling a single ounce of regret.
Whenever I make a decision, I’m ten toes down behind myself.
I don’t look back, I don’t second-guess my instincts, and I don’t apologize for what I want.
The logical, disciplined side of my brain knows this is completely out of character for me.
I don’t do hookups. I don’t let strangers into my space, and I have absolutely never thrown myself at a man like this—especially one I just met a few hours ago.
But looking at Samuel, feeling the dangerous, intoxicating heat of his touch, I don’t care about my usual rules.
He’s arrogant, he’s entirely too confident, and he’s a complete disruption to my carefully ordered life. But right now, I’m determined to enjoy every single second of him.
I arch my back into his touch, my dark eyes opening for a fraction of a second to lock onto his piercing blue gaze as my fingers slide up to tangle in his tousled black hair, drawing him deeper into the kiss.
His hands tighten on my hips, his thumbs digging into my skin with a possessive weight that makes a low gasp escape my throat. He drags his lips down the column of my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
“Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” he growls against my collarbone, his voice rough and completely stripped of that smooth, easygoing baritone he used all night. “I want to worship every single inch of you, krasavitsa.”
The foreign word rolls off his tongue like a dark, velvety promise, sending a violent shiver straight down my spine.
He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his striking blue eyes blazing with a dangerous, heavy hunger that leaves no room for argument. His hands leave my waist, his arms bracing against the door on either side of my head, trapping me completely within his massive frame.
“Undress for me,” he commands, his voice dropping to a low, dominant murmur.
The blunt authority in his tone makes a sudden, white-hot heat pool directly between my legs.
Ordinarily, if a man tried to order me around, I would dismantle his ego before he could even blink.
I’m the one who dictates terms, sets boundaries, and maintains absolute control in every room I walk into.
But looking up at Samuel—seeing the unyielding, dominant focus in his gaze as he waits for me to move—I feel my need for control slip away into the background.
I don’t want to lead right now. I don’t want to manage a single thing.
I want to surrender to the sheer, intoxicating freedom of being wanted this intensely.
Keeping his burning blue eyes locked onto mine, I slowly reach back for the zipper of my emerald blazer dress.
The metallic slide of the zipper sounds incredibly loud in the quiet penthouse.
I slowly peel the structured fabric off my shoulders, letting it slide down my arms and pool around my heels, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my lacy black undergarments and designer heels.
Samuel’s breath hitches sharply. His gaze darkens, tracing the full, unapologetic curves of my body with a raw, predatory appreciation that makes my skin tingle as if he’s already touching me.
My breath hitches as I let the lacy black fabric slip from my skin, leaving absolutely nothing between us but the warm air of the room.
Samuel falls completely silent. The easy, cocky smirk is entirely gone, replaced by a heavy, reverent quiet as his blue eyes trace every single curve, every dip of my waist, and the full swell of my hips.
He doesn’t move a muscle, but the sheer, predatory appreciation in his gaze is so intense it feels like a physical touch.
Under his unrelenting focus, a deep, hot blush creeps up my chest and stains my cheeks. I’ve never felt this exposed, yet I’ve never felt more desired.
“Fucking beautiful,” he rumbles, his voice incredibly deep and rough as he finally steps closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “When I’m done with you, Ashley, you won’t be able to look at another man. You’re going to forget anyone else ever existed.”
A sharp, breathless gasp escapes my lips, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs at the sheer, possessive promise in his words.
“Get on the bed,” he commands softly, his eyes darkening. “Now.”
Without a word of protest, I step back, my knees hitting the edge of the mattress before I climb onto the crisp white sheets, keeping my eyes locked on him.
But Samuel doesn’t immediately follow. He stands at the foot of the bed, holding my gaze with an absolute, unshakeable confidence that completely blows me away. Slowly, deliberately, he begins to undress.
He unbuttons his tailored black shirt, peeling it back to reveal a broad chest, rock-hard abs, and dark, intricate tattoos that crawl over his shoulders and down his arms. Next comes his belt, the heavy click of the buckle echoing in the quiet room, before he slides his trousers off.
My eyes bulge slightly, my throat going completely dry at the sheer size and power of him. He is built like an absolute god—all lean, dense muscle, rugged scars, and imposing height.
He catches the look on my face, and a slow, wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he murmurs.
Before I can answer, he moves with a predatory grace, climbing onto the mattress and settling his massive, heavy frame directly over mine, trapping me beneath his heat.
He looks down at me, his striking blue eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them, burning with a hunger that makes me shiver beneath him. Then, he bends his head and captures my mouth.
The kiss is deep, hot, and consuming, his tongue tangling with mine as he claims me completely. My hands automatically fly to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the hard, tattooed muscle of his back, pulling him closer as if I could never get enough of his weight.
He slowly pulls his lips away from mine, letting out a low, gravelly growl of satisfaction. He drags his mouth down the sensitive line of my jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses against my throat, making my head tilt back into the pillows.
“So soft, krasavitsa,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my collarbone.
His lips travel lower, tracing a path of fire down my chest to the full, aching swell of my breasts. When his tongue first brushes against my nipple, a sharp, electric jolt shoots straight to my core, and a breathless whimper escapes my lips.
He takes his time, paying slow, agonizingly thorough attention to me.
He circles the highly sensitive peaks with his tongue, blowing hot air over the wet skin until I’m arching my back off the mattress, begging for more.
He cups the weight of my breast in his broad, tattooed hand, squeezing gently before taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking with a deliberate, slow rhythm.
A high, breathless cry of pure pleasure escapes me, my fingers tightening in his thick, dark hair. I lose all sense of time and control, completely submerged in the overwhelming sensations he is pulling from my body.
Beneath his massive, heavy frame, I am entirely raw, writhing and whimpering as he worships my skin with a possessive, unhurried intensity that leaves me completely breathless.
His large, warm hand slides slowly down my stomach, the calloused palm a stark contrast to my skin. When his fingers trail lower, past my hips, and finally sink into the wet heat between my thighs, another high, broken cry rips from my throat.
He circles my clit with his thumb, applying a firm, teasing pressure that has me blindly tilting my hips up into his palm, desperate for friction.
“Samuel, please,” I beg, my voice sounding entirely unrecognizable to my own ears—husky, raw, and desperate.
He pauses the movement, leaning up on one elbow to look down at me, his striking blue eyes wild with dark satisfaction.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his thumb swiping once more across the hypersensitive center of me.
“You’ll take my cock soon, but you’re far too tight right now. I need to prep you first.”
Before I can process his words, he drops his mouth back down to my breast, rolling my nipple with his tongue as he smoothly plunges one long finger into my tight heat.
A sharp whimper catches in my chest. He doesn’t wait, immediately establishing a slow, rhythmic pace, fucking me with his finger while his mouth keeps me entirely focused on the white-hot ache in my chest.
I can feel the sheer thickness of his hands, the strength in his forearm as it rests against my inner thigh, stretching me open.
He pulls his finger nearly all the way out, then pauses against my entrance. “Can you take two, Ashley?”
I can barely think, my mind entirely short-circuited by the pleasure, so I just nod frantically against the pillow.