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Eyes locked with hers, I climb onto the bed. She opens her legs for me, and it crosses my mind that I’ve trained her well. She reads me like a book, and she’s always so damn happy to give to me. I settle myself between her thighs and look down at her, taking in her hair, her eyes, her lush curves, her full breasts with their luscious, dusky nipples. I can’t stop looking at her, and she’s doing the same to me. Even knowing that she’s looking at me makes my balls ache for the release only she can give me. No other woman will ever make me feel this way.
And like an asshole, I’m going to let her walk out of my life. Because we’d never work in the real world. This is pretend. This is a dream, and here, she’s mine.
I run my hands down her body, from her shoulders, over her breasts, down her sexy, rounded stomach, until I reach between her legs and cup her. She cries out, eyes still locked with mine. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that she belongs to me, that her sweet cunt, her entire gorgeous body, her heart, her soul…all of it belongs to me. But I don’t, because I have no claim on her.
I drag my thumb over her clit, and she cries out. I make her come with my fingers, thrusting them into her, torturing her clit, until she’s almost out of her mind from the intensity of her orgasms. She’s got this glazed look in her eyes, and I know that look now. I could do anything to her at this point. She’s mine completely. I’ve done some dirty-ass shit to her when she’s gotten to this point, things I know no other man will ever get her to do again.
But tonight, all I want is to be inside her.
I pull on a condom and enter her in one long, slow thrust, and we both groan in ecstasy as I fill her. We start moving, slow, languid, drawing apart only to crash back together again, eyes locked together, her hands gripping my shoulders, my hands on her hips. I angle my hips just a little, and with the next thrust, I hit her in the spot I know will make her lose her mind, and she cries my name. I do it again, and again, and again, and each time, my name is on her lips. She closes her eyes in her ecstasy, and I stop moving.
“No, no, baby. Look at me,” I murmur, and she opens her eyes. I can see it all in her eyes, her intense pleasure, the fear, the same fear as mine, that it’s too much, too intense, too good to last.
I’m goddamn going to make it last.
I start moving again. A few more thrusts, and I feel her clench around me, and then she’s screaming my name, thrashing beneath me, but like a good girl, she’s keeping her eyes on me.
“You’re so good, Samantha. So damn perfect,” I murmur as she comes down. I lower myself so I’m fully on top of her, taking most of my weight on my elbows, but I can feel her lush tits pressed against my chest. She’s still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, and I’m so damn close. I stop thrusting into her and lower my lips to hers, kissing her, tasting her, whispering how beautiful she is while I calm down. I don’t want this to end, and she deserves every damn bit of pleasure I can give her.
When I start moving again, I drive us both to the edge of insanity, and we come together, hard, our voices mingling as we cry out in release. And when I finally collapse on top of her, I do it knowing I gave her everything I’m able to just now.
I also know it’s not enough. She deserves so much more.
Chapter Eleven
Samantha
Our last week together almost feels like a frenzy of desperation, of me needing to get as much of him as I can. Our sex life, which was already active, becomes almost non-stop, and I take every bit of Dante I can get. As the days tick by, I feel dread settling into my stomach.
How am I going to exist after Dante?
I push the thought away, over and over again, because it’s a pointless question. I’m going to exist because I have to, because he made this second chance possible and I’m going to make the most of it.
It’s our last night together, and we spend it the way we began this whole thing: with me escorting him to an event. His assistant, Susan, brought my gown earlier, and it hangs in my closet, gold silk shimmering in the emptiness.
All of my other clothes have been packed away, shipped off to my apartment.
At midnight, this is over. The contract ends, the money is released into my account. Done.
The emptiness around me matches my mood. I feel lost, like I don’t know what’s real and what’s not, and
I don’t know where I fit into the world anymore. How am I supposed to go back to my old life after Dante Knight? I’m not the same anymore. I’ve fallen in love with a man I never should have even met in the first place. I’ve given him everything, including my virginity. I’ve done things for him and let him do things to me that I never imagined doing. He knows my body better than anyone else ever will.
No, I’m not the same. The girl who walked into the Calla Club a month ago, dreading what her life was becoming and, in her innocence, still believing in happily ever after, is gone. She disappeared in a flurry of lust-filled nights in Dante’s arms, caught up in Dante’s world.
And now I’m supposed to go back to my life like none of it ever happened?
My stomach has been in knots since I fell asleep in Dante’s arms last night.
He hasn’t asked me to stay.
He hasn’t asked to see me after this is over.
I swear sometimes that I see something in his eyes that looks almost like love. Maybe affection, at the very least, but I’m fooling myself. If he cared, he would have at least hinted at the idea of our seeing one another after it’s all over.
I force myself to stop thinking about it. It is what it is, and I have one more evening on his arm. I’ll do my job. I’ll be the perfect arm candy for the handsome construction tycoon.
I’ll pick myself up and get over him.
