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“Yes.”
Holy fuck. What the fuck did I do? “You didn’t think that detail was worth sharing with me?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters. You should have told me.” I can feel my rage rising, right along with the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like I can’t breathe, and the memories that flood my mind make me feel like I’m about to drown.
Her eyes flash. “When was I supposed to tell you, Dante? Huh? When you were licking and sucking me, or when you had your fingers inside me? Or maybe I should have told you before you shoved your dick all the way inside me. When the hell was I supposed to stop and say ‘oh, by the way, Dante, you’re going to be my first.’ And what do you care, anyway?” Her voice is raised, and even through my anger, I think that she’s gorgeous when she’s pissed.
“I don’t fuck virgins,” I snarl. I get out of bed and start pulling on my pants from the night before.
“What the hell kind of rule is that? And if it matters, you probably should have asked me.”
“Yeah, because I totally expect a twenty-one-year-old stripper and escort to be a virgin,” I spit at her, and she looks like I just slapped her. “I mean, who would expect a girl who takes her clothes off for strangers to be a virgin?” I know I’m making excuses and putting it all on her. I know I’m being a dick. I just don’t care.
“It clearly wasn’t something you were worrying about last night. You didn’t hesitate once. If it’s such an important rule, you should have made sure, huh?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight.” I pull my shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned, and then turn back to her. “That never should have happened.”
I see a flash of hurt in her eyes before she quickly glances away, and I hate myself a little bit.
“No, it shouldn’t have,” she says quietly.
“It won’t be happening again.”
“No, it most definitely will not.”
The prim, cool tone she uses makes me want to put my fist through the wall. She gathers her dress and shoes and quickly walks out, and I hear her padding down the hallway to her own room at the other end of the penthouse. Good.
I run my hands over my face in frustration, and when I look back down, my gaze lands on the tiny red panties I tore off of her last night after making her come in them. I look away as my stomach clenches.
Fuck.
I fucked up. She should have fucking told me, but she’s not wrong. I should have been more careful, too. I swore I’d never let myself get into this type of situation again, and here I am. And I’ve already hurt her feelings, even if she tried to hide it.
This is exactly why I hired her for a month. I didn’t want emotional bullshit. I wanted a sexy, gorgeous woman to decorate my arm at all of these events I have to attend in the next couple of weeks, without any expectation on her part about feelings or emotions or anything else.
Bullshit, a little voice mutters. You wanted her. You were being some kind of knight in shining armor, saving her from sleazy Harry and the other assholes who would have bid on her eventually. Because you wanted her.
I shove the thought away and stalk to the bathroom. I can still smell her all over my body. I need distance, and I need to focus on something else for a while. Because no matter how good Samantha tastes, no matter how good it felt to be inside her, I can’t let that happen again. I can’t let her start to get attached to me. I don’t work that way.
For about a half of a second, I consider just letting her have her money and go. Cut my losses. But I paid for this month, and I want my money’s worth.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth is, I’m not ready to have her walk away just yet.
Chapter Seven
Samantha
I manage not to cry until I step into the shower in my room. And it’s not sadness, but I know he’d think I’m crying over him, because he’s an asshole.
No, I’m one of those people who cry when I’m mad, and right now, I’m so angry I can barely se
e straight.
The gall of him! To act high and mighty and pissed at me because I didn’t tell him I was a virgin. As if that affects him in any way. My virginity was mine to give, and I was happy with my choice until he acted like a jerk this morning.
I scrub away the scent of him, even as my body still aches from the things he did to me last night. My breasts are tender and swollen, and when he said I was going to feel him inside me for days afterward, he wasn’t kidding. As angry as I am with him just now, there’s also a part of me that wants to have him on top of me again.
