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Samuel stays buried inside me after he comes. As both of us struggle to catch our breath, he presses a finger between my lips. Taking his time, he hooks it around the wet, ruined panties and pulls them from my mouth. He drops them to the floor, and his tongue promptly takes their place in my mouth.
As much as I try to fight it, I’m unable to hold back the groan that rattles from my lungs and into his mouth.
This isn’t like me.
These men are a job. A quick—usually lackluster—fuck. In and out. Certainly, no fucking kissing. Absolutely no fucking feelings. Yet, here I fucking am, with Samuel’s tongue down my throat—and loving every fucking second of it.
Fuck, Cora.
Vibrating across my tongue, his own groan echoes mine as he slowly pulls back from our kiss. Our foreheads press together; his lips fluttering against mine as we both try unsuccessfully to slow our breathing.
“You really aren’t like the others, are you?” His warm, fruit-scented breath blows across my face as he exhales the words.
“The others?” My question is barely a whisper as I didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
“Hey!” a deep voice billows from further down the aisle of barrels. “You can’t be down here without a tour.”
Samuel quickly lowers me to my feet as the voice begins walking toward us. I’m unable to stifle my groan when he quickly pulls his still semi-rigid cock from me. He pulls at my dress, ensuring it falls to the floor, before beginning to tuck himself back into his pants.
“I’m serious. You can’t be down here.” The man’s tone is stern, and his brows are furrowed when he repeats himself. The now annoyed man turns the corner, suddenly having a full view of us. He glances down to find Samuel pulling at his zipper. A concerned look spreads over his face, and he asks, “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Trust me,” Samuel snarks as he grasps my hand and pulls me from the corner. “She’s more than okay.” With a dark chuckle, he shoulder-checks the waiter blocking the narrow corridor between the stacks of barrels. The man faulters before regaining his balance, quickly pressing himself against the stacks to make ample room for the two of us to pass.
Instead of walking through the tasting room like we entered the vineyard, he pulls me around the back of the building and straight to the parking lot where his car is waiting.
“Don’t we need to pay? Or someth?—”
“They’ll put it on my tab.” His tone is gruff, and I opt not to test his most recent sudden mood change.
The ride back to his place is quiet. While he couldn’t keep his hands off me or stop doting on me at the vineyard, he hasn’t so much as made eye contact with me since he shut my car door. It’s the job, beck and call when they want you.
Sweet. Brutal.
Hot. Cold.
It’s like a constant flip with his moods.
Reaching the front of his estate, he pulls up to the base of the steps, where the driver left me a few days ago, before coming to a stop.
“I’m going to park the car and make a call.” His eyes never glance in my direction. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll be inside in a bit.”
Letting myself out of the car, I have barely shut the door behind me when he starts to pull off.
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.
I chuckle to myself as I head into the house and up to my room, quite eager to take advantage of the lavish bathtub in my ensuite. Stripping off my dress, I fill the tub with hot, sudsy water, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Holy shit…
I expected the smudged runs of mascara around my eyes and cheeks, but it’s the rest that shocks me.
Deep, red rings wrap around the front of my throat. Sliding my hand over them, and wrapping my fingers around my neck, there is no denying that they mirror where Samuel had his hands no less than an hour ago. The soreness of my back is quickly explained by the numerous tiny scratches covering the skin between my shoulder blades from repeatedly sliding along the rough concrete walls. Even my inner thighs and hips are peppered with the beginnings of bruises from Samuel driving into me over and over with unrelenting force and need.
“I’m going to look like a fucking blueberry by tomorrow.” I shake my head and mumble to myself. Turning away from the mirror, I glide my fingers through the bath water to check the temperature before sliding in. I hiss through my teeth when the heat hits the open skin on my back, igniting every tiny scratch.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and sink into the warm comfort of the water as I rest my head against the edge. After taking a few deep breaths, I open my eyes. Startled by Samuel leaning against the doorframe, I jump, and I shout, “Jesus fucking Christ, Samuel!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
