Chapter Eighteen Say You Won’t Let Go #2
She swallows. “Yes.” Her eyes still roam my body like she’s never seen me bare-chested before.
“For food?” I try not to laugh; obviously the three orgasms from earlier were not enough to satisfy my hungry girl.
“What?” Her eyes lift to mine.
“There you are.” I smirk. “Are you hungry for food?”
She crosses her arms, feigning indignation. “What else would I be hungry for, Mr. McIntyre?”
My brow arches. “You seem to be eating me up with your eyes, Ms. Cavanagh. I want to be sure it’s food you’re wanting.”
Her blush is fucking adorable. “I…uh…both.”
I chuckle and take her hand. “Come on, let me feed you. Then I’ll show you what I need to. Then I can feed your other hunger.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
So fucking cute.
She sits on the kitchen counter as I feed her leftover Chinese and tell her about my visit with Lydia and Veronica.
“Lydia was a total bitch, not an ounce of remorse. I left her in the hands of Matt, Michael, and Victor. They’ll scare the pants off her.
She’ll sign what she needs to and be out of our lives. ”
“I’m surprised she didn’t play all nice, still trying to get in your pants.” She sucks a noodle from my fingers. “That’s what I’d do.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” I kiss her Peking Duck-flavored lips.
“No, I wouldn’t. I don’t have the balls to hit on someone. I could never.” Laughing, she takes a bite of my pancake.
I’m struck dumb by the truth of her statement. I put down the food and wipe my hands. I wait for her to finish her bite before cupping her face as I stand between her knees. “I’m a lucky man.” My voice hitches on the power of what I feel for her.
“What? No. I’m the lucky one,” she insists.
I smooth out her furrowed brow with my thumb.
“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, the way you come undone for me, the way you look at me, the hunger in your eyes, and the shyness of your blush—so fucking sexy.
But you wouldn’t have made a move on me if I hadn’t sought you out first, would you? ”
“No. Never.” Her eyes beseech me.
“Even if you knew how much I wanted you, if you were positive I wouldn’t turn you down?”
She adamantly shakes her head. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because if you really wanted me, you’d make a move.
If you don’t, then it’s only an idea you’re toying with in your head.
I don’t want to be anybody’s toy. I want to be somebody’s everything, the somebody who compels you to make the first move.
Not a knee-jerk reaction where you give in to being hit on, not a compromise, not a second choice, not an ‘oh, why not’ decision.
I want you to know without a shadow of a doubt that you want me and are willing to take a chance, make an effort.
I want a man with the confidence, the will to go after what he wants, not wait for it to come to him. ”
Fuck. Me. “I came after you.”
She beams. “You did.”
“But you weren’t an easy catch.”
“No, I wasn’t. I’m still not. You have to work for me, Joseph. Not because I’m confident and believe I deserve it. But because I don’t.”
“Samantha.” I press my forehead to hers. “It kills me when you say stuff like that.”
“I need to be sure you understand what you’re getting into with me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that confident. I may always have doubts, and it’s not a reflection of your character, but of mine. I couldn’t love you more, Joseph. I don’t ever want you to doubt that.”
“I don’t doubt it, baby. I’ve got confidence enough for both of us. If you run, I’ll chase. I’ll always come for you, because I know you’re worth it.”
She closes her eyes, nodding her head over and over again as tears slip free.
My lips brush her cheeks. “I’ll always come for you, Sweets.”
“I’m counting on it.” Her voice is tight with emotions. She wraps her arms around my neck. “Please forgive me for my doubts. I know we said it earlier, but I need to hear it again.”
I pull her closer. “I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. I’ll always come for you.”
“Don’t let me go.”
“Never. Never letting you go, Sweetness.” I kiss her warm lips. “Come on.”
It’s now or never.
Samantha
In his office, Joseph pulls me into his lap. “I need to show you something.”
“You keep saying that. You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m a little nervous myself.” His fingers tip my chin so that I’m looking him in the eyes. “We need to finish this thing with Lydia, Veronica, and Tiff. I need you to trust me, give it a chance, let me show you what I see.”
I have no idea what he’s wanting to show me, but the knot in my stomach tells me it’s not good. I can’t speak. I simply nod.
Joseph wakes up his laptop, and a large monitor on his desk comes to life with a still of Joseph. “Shit. No.” I try to get up, but he won’t let me. “I can’t watch this, Joseph.”
His grip on me tightens. “Michael obtained the full video from Tiff. What you’ve seen is only some of it. This is the last copy. The only copy, and once you’ve seen it—I’ll destroy it.”
“So, the video and the come-face picture are for sure from when you were with Tiff?” Holy shit. I can’t watch this. I can’t watch him being raped.
“Watch it, and then ask me that question again.”
“Joseph, please. Don’t make me watch this.”
His hand cups the back of my neck as his lips crash over mine, licking and sucking tenderly, passionately.
I know what he’s doing, but I’m helpless to resist him. I don’t want to watch her take advantage of him. I want to be what he needs. When he needs it.
He pulls back, both of us breathless. “I need you to trust me, Samantha. I need you to see this through my eyes, see what I experienced. We need this closure.” He pulls me into a hug, whispering into my ear. “Please give me this. Trust me.”
How can I not? This man gives me everything, forgives me for doubting him. I can do this for him. “Okay.”
As the video starts, it’s obvious Tiff is on top looking down on Joseph taking the video. They’re in the throes of it, moaning, thrusting. Joseph tightens his hold on me. We watch for another minute before he pauses the screen—his face frozen with a look of pure ecstasy.
“You know that look, Samantha.”
“Yeah, that’s you having sex.”
“No, not just sex. And not sex with just anyone. That’s me making love to you.”
“What?” But he’s having sex with Tiff. Even though I can’t see her, I know it’s her. They got the video from her.
“Watch.” He resumes the video.
We watch in silence the most difficult thing I’ve ever witnessed—the man I love having sex with someone else.
He looks and sounds like my Joseph, the way he looks and sounds when he’s with me. His moans become more coherent. He’s talking to her, telling her to make it feel good. Shit. He’s said those words to me. Tears slip down my cheek. I blink to clear my vision.
Then I hear it: “Samantha.” The Joseph on the video called out to me. Me.
Joseph squeezes me. “That was you and me, Samantha. There was no one else in that bed with me besides you. Watch.”
All of a sudden, I don’t feel like a voyeur watching Joseph have sex with someone else. I’m watching with his eyes, seeing his moves, his face, his sounds he makes with me. Me.
In the heat of his desire, he looks into the camera. “I’m coming, baby.” The look on his face is the one in the still photo—his come-shot. But the video doesn’t end there. It continues, and he comes undone. “Fuck, Sweetness, I’m coming so hard for you.”
The video ends.
Silence. The room is full of silence and my ragged breath.
“It was only ever you and me, Samantha. That’s my drunken fantasy sex dream I had with you. I don’t remember Tiff. I don’t want to remember her, because what you saw is what I remember—what I cherish—you and me—making love.”
He carries me to our bed, lowering me down gently like I might bruise.
I sit in the middle of our bed and watch him undress.
He’s not giving me a show, like a strip tease, he’s simply undressing—for me.
When he’s gloriously naked, his cock at full attention, bobbing against his tight abs, I’m in awe of him—as I am every time I see him—that he’s mine.
Kneeling next to me, he slowly undresses me, his eyes caressing every bit of skin as it’s revealed. My shoes. Gone. My blouse and bra. Gone. My skirt. Gone.
“What the fuck did you do?” His concern alarms me until I see his eyes are on my panties. Well, actually on the bandage sticking out from under my panties.
“Shit. I forgot about that.”
“How the hell did you hurt yourself there?” His fingers gently glide over the top of the bandage. “Does it hurt?”
I lie back on my elbows. “It does hurt, to be honest. But Bowser promised it’ll be better in a few days.”
“Who the hell is Bowser?” Anger flares in his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, staring daggers at me and then the bandage.
“It’s supposed to be a surprise for you. But based on your reaction, I’m afraid to show you.”
He takes a cleansing breath or two—okay five. His eyes soften. “What did you do, Sweetness? Please don’t tell me you marked this beautiful skin with a tattoo.”
Oh, no. He hates tattoos? Tears fill my eyes.
“Baby, please tell me you didn’t.”
I shake my head, unable to answer.
He sighs in exasperation. “Fin took you to a goddamned tattoo shop?”
I roll away, kneeling at the top of our bed, covering myself with a pillow. He hates it. What was I thinking? So stupid.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. Come ’ere, baby. Let me see.” He moves toward me.
“No.” I jump off the bed, pillow securely covering my front. “I’m sorry. I thought…I wanted to do something for you. To show you my dedication to you.”
“Baby, please.”
“No. It was stupid.”
He stops in front of me. “Show me.”
I shake my head. “You hate it. I’m never letting you see it.”
“How do you think I won’t see it?” He pulls the pillow out of my grasp.
“I’ll get it lasered off.”
“The fuck you will,” he growls. He cups the back of my neck, tipping my head back.
“I’m an idiot, Samantha. I’m sorry. I didn’t…
it’s a shock that’s all.” He runs his hand down my neck and shoulder, watching as if he can see the trail it leaves behind.
“You have such beautiful skin, unblemished, untouched, pure.”
I scoff at that. “Untouched? Pure? Not anymore.”
Anger flashes again. “You will always be pure to me, because your body only knows my touch.”
“Caveman, that’s exactly why I wanted to get this tattoo.”
His nostrils flare. “Show me, Samantha. Let me see your gift.”
He tenderly carries me back to bed, lays me down, and swiftly removes my panties. I’m naked except for the bandage. His lips reverently kiss around the dressing. “Show me.”
“Okay, but don’t touch it. I have to keep it clean and covered for forty-eight hours.”
“I’ll clean it and cover it back up after I’m done examining my present.” His smile is earnest and gives me hope that he won’t hate it.
“If you don’t like it, they can turn it into something else, or I can have it removed.”
“No fucking way. Show me.” His impatience grows.
“Close your eyes.”
“Samantha.”
“Close your eyes, grumpy.”
Finally, he does, but his hands remain on my hips, his thumbs caressing back and forth. I lift the corners and peel off the dressing, placing it on the nightstand. I look back at my man, his eyes closed, his jaw lax, his lips full and begging to be kissed.
“You’re staring.” He grumbles.
“No, I’m not.”
“Can I open my eyes?”
“Yes.” I take in a sharp breath, waiting.
He opens, zooming in on it before I exhale.
“It’s green for your eyes.”
He nods, staring. Then he slowly traces the tips of his fingers directly below the writing in a delicate, ornate green script highlighted in black, not too big, just big enough for him to read. Only him. “You did this for me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what to say.” His gaze is still locked on, examining, his fingers caressing circles around it.
“You don’t like it.” I grab the bandage.
His hand covers mine. “No. Don’t cover it. I’m not done.” The longer he stares, the deeper he breathes. Then I notice he’s hard again, after having lost his erection, thinking I was hurt.
If he’s turned on, he must not totally hate it. “Say something. Anything.”
“I can’t believe you did this—for me.”
Yeah, that’s not helping. I still don’t know if he hates it or not.
But then he bends down, trailing warm kisses from hip to hip. He continues, moving lower until he’s right over the tattoo. He blows across it, and I squirm, unable to remain still. His flicks his tongue below it, ever so close to where moisture now pools.
“Joseph.”
His tongue flicks over my slit, delving in, finding my clit, and sucks.
“Oh, shit.” I fist the bedspread.
“Does the tattoo mean this belongs to me?” His tongue rubs up and down over and over again.
“Yes.” I want to spread my legs, but he has them pinned.
“Do you know how much this turns me on? To see you mark yourself with my name—the name you call me?”
“No, tell me.”
“Fuck, Samantha. To taste you and see my name on you, like a brand, telling me you’re mine. I think I could come right now if I look at it much longer.”
I moan at the thought.
“I can’t wait until I can touch it, kiss it, lick it.”
“Oh, god, Joseph.”
“I can bury my cock, balls deep, and see who you belong to.”
“Yes.”
He pushes my legs apart, kneeling between my thighs. His fingers slip inside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” His fingers glide in and out. “Say it. I want to hear you say it out loud. Whose pussy is this?”
“Caveman’s.”
“Fuck, that’s right. I never thought seeing a tattoo on you would make me want you even more, but the fact that you tattooed Caveman’s right above your pussy is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He pumps faster. “Are you gonna come for me, Sweets?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right. Whose pussy is this?”
“Caveman’s.”
“Fuck, my balls tingle every time you say that and I read it on your body. Come for me, baby, because I need my cock inside you. Now.”
He bends down, his tongue lapping at me, focusing on my clit, his fingers working that magic spot. He sucks and licks me into a frenzy until I come undone around his fingers. It only feeds his hunger for more. His groans and sucks continue, taking me into another orgasm.
Before I recover, his thighs are spread, my legs swung over his thighs, his cock rubbing my folds, then he slides home. “Dammit, you feel so fucking good.” His hands grip my hips, his thumbs on either side of his Caveman’s tattoo. His eyes are glued to it, watching himself slide in and out of me.
“Do you like your gift?” I manage through choppy breaths as he pumps into me.
“Fuck, yeah. Tell me again whose pussy this is?”
“Caveman’s.”
“That’s right. You’re mine, Sweets. You have the tattoo to prove it, and in three weeks you’re gonna have my ring and name.” His eyes lock on the tattoo again. “So fucking hot, baby.”