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Pulling me up his thighs, he splays the fabric of my dress over his lap until it drapes him like a throw. He shifts his weight under me, and I am surprised when I feel his semi-hard cock pressing against me.
“What about me?” He reaches under my dress and between us.
“You haven’t told me a thing about you.” I nearly choke on my words as he deftly frees himself from his pants.
His ever-hardening length dusts against the bare skin of my ass as he taps my outer thigh and commands, “Lift.”
“Samuel,” I gulp. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private first.”
“Lift.” His voice deepens significantly, and he painfully pinches my ass, causing me to rise from his lap just as he wanted. Quickly aligning himself with my entrance, he painfully pulls me back down on him. My pussy, not nearly ready to accommodate him, burns with every inch he forces into me. The pain causes me to wince and bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“You’re going to need to learn that I know what you need.” With a breathy growl, he pulls me over the last couple of inches of his shaft until he’s buried to the hilt. “And when you need it.”
The pain between my thighs causes a rogue tear to roll down my cheek. Using the pad of his thumb, Samuel tenderly wipes it away, “I don’t want to hurt you, Cora. But you need to let me take care of you, and that means listening when you’re told to do something.”
I merely nod my head in agreement, not quite knowing how to respond to him.
His fingers play in the loose curls hanging along my back as he takes the glass of Chardonay from my hand. After placing it on the table, he pulls me backward until I’m resting against his chest with his cock still inside of me, unmoving.
“You’re so fucking perfect when you listen. Sitting so still on my cock in front of all these people. A dirty little secret. Our dirty little secret.”
As though someone flipped a switch, Samuel’s entire demeanor changes, and he’s completely soft again.
Except his cock.
In the past week or so, he’s flipped on and off countless times. I would worry about Samuel, but I’m almost certain he’s absolutely harmless. I’ve been with violent men before – the kind that needs to smack the shit out of you to feel like they are in control and not to feel small. And he’s not like any them.
He's…sweet.
His tone soft, he kisses along the back of my shoulder and asks, “Now, what did you want to learn about me? I’ll tell you anything. And when you know enough, I’ll take you home and apologize thoroughly for hurting you.”
We talk about him for a little over an hour, his cock deep and rigid inside of me the entire time. The stories of his childhood are nowhere near as sweet as mine, but he shares them with me regardless.
With a drunk mother and an abusive stepfather, it’s a miracle he is as tender as he is. How football was his escape, a way for him to deal with his feelings and let out the aggression from his homelife. He never expected it to become such an iconic part of his life.
Apparently, being riddled with trauma and anger really paid off for him.
“This is hard for me,” he professes.
“Sharing?” I clarify.
“This.” His hand moves between the two of us. “Wanting this tenderness with you. And needing to fuck you so hard”—his cock twitches inside of me—“that you have no choice but to scream and cry for me.”
And just like that, he’s flipped the switch again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAMUEL
“Who says you can’t have both?” Cora flirtatiously glances over her shoulder.
Me.
No woman has or will love the vile wickedness inside of me. Not when they actually see the true depths of my darkness. Cora hasn’t seen what I actually am—what I’m trying so desperately to hide from her.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Samuel.”
But I do, love.
