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“Sam,” I gasp, surprised and excited by the prospect of himwantingme.
My fingers curl in his sleep-mussed hair, stroking down the back of his warm neck as he grunts and works his cock free, then slides home inside me. It's sudden, and it stings a little, but it's no less than what I deserve. And it feels sogood, to have him on top of me, starting things,wantingthings. I guess I wasn't prepared for how much I needed him to want me back.
He lifts his head from sucking a mark to my shoulder and kisses me, rough and long, just the same way he fucks me, hard enough the bed creaks with his hands on my hips to keep me still and holding tight enough to leave bruises. If this man is a monster, he's one that I made, and in that respect, he's perfect.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, Clo,” he mutters, nibbling at my ear.
He wraps an arm around the top of my head, pinning me down on all sides. My senses are full of him, the wordsSam Sam Sam, tumbling helplessly from my mouth along with 'Yes' and 'Please' and 'More's that seem to drive him wild. I moan along with him as his thrusts gain speed and power, the bed whining just as loud as I am. I wrap my legs around his waist, desperate to get him closer and deeper inside of me. Every inch of his touch is like a massage on a tender bruise, and it aches, but it feels so soothing andgood.
My orgasm hits me suddenly, so much so that I don't make a sound, I just cling to him and shiver in his arms, my pussy clenching his cock. His lips twitch in a satisfied half-smirk before he kisses me, grinds deep, and finishes as well with his own sated growl of my name.
This time, he doesn't pull out immediately. If there is any disgust and hate, it doesn't show in his eyes, and I don't feel it when he touches me.
If anything, I feel more loved that I have in a long time, which is a mindfuck in itself. Rolling onto his side, he pulls me into his arms and cradles me against him. Strangely, this startles me more than the sudden bout of sex. The fact that he didn't recoil from me this time. That hestartedthings instead of just throwing me out, which is absolutely what he should have done. My shoulder aches a little. I look at it, able to see the edge of the bruise he bit into my skin. I touch it, shivering at the sting, and bite my lower lip.
His lips touch my forehead, sending a sea of conflicting emotions flooding through me. I feel so many things for this man and I don’t know how to process any of it. He gently strokes my arm, holding me closer to him, as though he can sense something is bothering me. Not that I can talk to him about any of it. I am supposed to get myself knocked up with his baby, all so his wife can steal their daughter away. I thought I was doing it for all the right reasons, but now I’m doubting what’s real and what’s not.
How can I possibly put that into words that he’ll understand?
“You can talk to me, you know,” he murmurs, as if reading my thoughts. “You can trust me with anything.”
I look up and offer him a quick smile, then snuggle against his chest, knowing that I can’t tell him the truth, not without him hating me.
“It’s nothing,” I promise him.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he points out. “You disappeared for over a week. Why did you leave? Why are you back?”
“Because…” I bite my lip to stop the whole sorry, sordid story pouring out. “You’re married,” is what I eventually say. “I guess I grew a conscience.”
“She knows about us, and I doubt you grew a conscience.”
He says it so simply, like it means nothing. I turn to him, searching his face to discover how he really feels. How much did she tell him? He obviously has no idea how deep I’m involved, otherwise I wouldn’t be in his bed right now.
“She knows?” I croak. “How? What happened?”
“The neighbour saw you leaving,” he says dismissively. “Marissa accused me of sleeping with you and I guess I didn’t exactly deny it.”
“Why not?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. The thought of losing Kelsie is…” He sighs, drawing in a deep breath. “But the idea of losing you kills me just as much.”
His words sting me. I don’t know what to say or how to react. Sure, he thinks that now, but once he learns the real depth of my deceit, he’ll hate me. I’m sure of it. I roll over so I’m not facing him, letting his strong arms wrap around me.
Maybe none of this matters in the end, after all. Maybe he is my monster and what I’ve been doing all along is justice. The sinking pit in my stomach grows with every breath. As much as I hate to admit it, that would be the best outcome.
It’s the only outcome I can live with.
* * *
At some point,I fall asleep, entwined in Sam’s arms. I lay there for a moment, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against my back. It’s so calming and comforting, something I would give anything to be able to keep experiencing, but I know I need to get out of here and figure things out. I can’t think when I’m this close to him, while he’s touching me.
Easing myself out of his embrace, I climb out of the bed, careful not to wake him. My mind is still struggling to come to terms with what just happened. I have no idea what it was I was expecting when I snuck into his house, but it certainly wasn't this.
Tonight was the first time Sam had been the one to initiate sex, and dare I say it, intimacy. I have no idea what to make of it, but I know I can't make that decision here, with him. He is far too good at clouding my head with warm thoughts that make it hard to think rationally.
On the way out, I spy his wallet sitting on the kitchen counter, along with a little bottle of prescription pills. I slip both into my pocket without much thought. Maybe something in his wallet will lead me closer to figuring out once and for all if he is who I was led to believe he is and if that fails, maybe the pills will grace me with a few hours of much needed sleep.
Closing the front door, I disappear into the night, expelling a rush of cold air from my lungs. I wait until I’m safely out of view before I crouch behind a bush. My hands shake as I rifle through his wallet. I stop at his license, sliding it from behind the clear plastic window to get a closer look. I study his photo. It’s a younger Sam, but still clearly him. I can’t tear my gaze away from his vibrant blue eyes. I’m just about to discard the wallet when I notice a photo. It sits tucked away behind a few twenty-dollar notes. I pull it out, my heart thumping, and study the girl in the photo.Rachel. She looks about fifteen and shares the same deep blue eyes as Sam. He stands next to her, his arm protectively wrapped around her shoulder. My stomach twists into tight knots as I begin to comprehend what this means. Sam looks about twenty in the picture, the same age as my foster brother would’ve been when his father started abusing me. He looks nothing like the monster locked tightly in my memory.
