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Unlike with so many other clients, I don’t have to fake and force it with Samuel. I actually enjoy his company. Conversationally, we mesh, and we can talk about anything and nothing for hours on end. And when it comes to sex…he can fuck.
Holy shit can he fuck.
The ease and comfort of being with him always makes me wonder the same thing, though.
If he’s this fucking charming and amazing in bed, why the fuck is he paying for escorts?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAMUEL
“I have to fly to Chicago tonight for an alumni event this weekend.” I pause in the doorway.
“Okay.” Cora nods.
“I’ll leave my credit card with you. Use it for anything you need while I’m gone.” I pull my wallet from my pants, slide a black card from it, and leave it on the vanity beside my discarded cufflinks. “I expect your things in my room when I get back.”
“Sam—”
“I’m not asking.” I cut her off. “I want you in my bed with me.”
The words escape me as I say them. I don’t share my bed with women—not like that. I fuck them and discard them; they don’t spend the night. Ever.
I know Cora has only been with me for a week—and I’m paying her to be—but the idea of being apart from her doesn’t sit well with me. The only reason I’m not bringing her with me is that I need a little time by myself.
Time to be myself.
Cora hasn’t really seen the monster that I am yet. I want to show her, but I’m almost certain that she will run through the door the moment she finds out how roughly I want to use her.
How I can’t stop thinking about being deep inside her as she’s on the brink of unconsciousness.
This alumni weekend couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Normally, I despise them, but college campuses are more than full of girls who will allow me to scratch that itch.
This is how I’ll do it.
How I can be good for Cora…
…And keep that darkness inside of me happy.
“You don’t come while I’m gone. I want your cunt well rested when I get back. Understand?”
“I understand.” she agrees with an adorable pout.
* * *
For the life of me, I will never understand why colleges have these stupid fucking alumni dinners. I do not need to meet the entire incoming team freshman class to continue to support them on and off the field. I send more than enough money to both.
The only highlight of this evening so far is the cute little brunette sitting a few tables over. She bears a slight similarity to Mia, only it’s clear she has a different social status. Based on her super petite stature, I’d be surprised if she weren’t a member of the cheer squad.
She’s exactly what I need.
As dinner ends and things become significantly less formal, I continue to keep my eye on her. Mingling throughout the crowd—my fame is the true reason I get invited to these things—I ensure that she stays within my line of sight.
When she grabs her small purse from the table and heads toward the door, I promptly excuse myself from the mundane conversation with some new kid for the team. Pushing open the door, I step into the hallway just in time to see her slipping into the stairwell.
Where are you going, little one?
When I get through the door, her heels click a few flights above me. Staying light on my feet to ensure my soles don’t click on the metal steps, I take my time following her as I count her steps to gauge what floor she exits on. She pushes on a door, and the faint sounds of traffic tell me my counting was in vain—she’s on the roof.
