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“Holy shit, Samantha,” he mutters after he forces deep, shuddering breaths through his powerful chest.
Face still pressed to a couch pillow, I smile. “I don’t think I’m Samantha anymore. Just Chance’s cum slut... that’s it... because... Wow.”
A tiny laugh shakes me, and Chance pushes deep inside me. Though he’s soft after that back-blowing orgasm, I don’t want him out of me yet, either.
I sense his smile. “Should I remind you of that later when your sanity returns?”
He’s hilarious. Because that’s not who I am, and anyone who suggested as much would enter the find-out phase of the fuck-around-and-find-out process. But right now, it’s the truth. I just want to lie here and luxuriate in what we’ve done.
“Only if you want me to remind you that you commanded me to use my cunt to squeeze your cock like a good girl,” I tease as I look over my shoulder to catch his reaction.
Dirty talk is a strange thing. In the middle of sex, it’s the hottest thing ever and crazy things will make you have a damn-near instant orgasm. But seconds later, when the haze clears, it sounds like a cringe-worthy PornHub script written by high school boys.
Chance laughs a little before more seriously asking, “You okay? Your knee? Your... the rest of you?”
I couldn’t even tell you if I have knees right now, but I answer, “Yeah, I’m okay. You?”
He shifts on top of me, holding his weight up on his knees. “Other than needing a shower and food, I’m awesome.” He pops my right ass cheek with a playful swat that sounds worse than it feels. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and then I’ll make us some dinner.”
Orgasms and dinner? I’m not going to argue with that. Ever.
CHAPTER10
CHANCE
“I thinkyour bathroom is fancier than any spa or gym one I’ve ever been in,” Samantha says, noting the walls and floor covered in swirled marble slabs, the light wood vanity, and the huge shower enclosure with more heads than a car wash. “Not that there’s been many, mostly just the gym at school and the spa I treated myself to when I finished undergrad.”
“It works,” I reply modestly. I take pride in my home, and I enjoy luxury, but my needs are also relatively simple. I’d be fine with a locker room shower as long as it was lukewarm. Thankfully, I don’t have to be, though.
Because I wouldn’t want Samantha in some jockstrap infested locker room. She deserves the best, which is why I’m washing every inch of her body, making sure the scented body wash lather gets absolutely everywhere.
“I could get used to this,” she moans as I work shampoo through her hair.
“Warning or threat?” I ask with a smile she can’t see because her eyes are closed in bliss.
“Both?” she answers, cracking one eye and peering at me cautiously.
I bet her eagle eyes don’t miss much. But unlike last time, I’m not having second thoughts about what we did or how we did it. This time, I feel... great.
Maybe it’s because of Samantha’s positive reaction? Or maybe it’s because I can’t be too upset at anything that makes me come that powerfully?
“How about omelets for dinner? I make a mean spinach and feta version.”
Samantha bats her lashes flirtatiously. “You cook too? How has nobody snatched you up?”
“Maybe I didn’t want to get snatched,” I counter. “Really, it’s that the club has been my focus, priority, and obsession, so I haven’t spent much time fighting off women.”
That’s not the whole truth, which has a lot more to do with my being an asshole teenager, a fuckwit college kid, and an adult with standards so ridiculously high that most women don’t pass my first consideration.
Until Samantha.
Who doesn’t meet any of my checklist, mostly because she took it, wadded it up, and lit it on fire. Metaphorically speaking. Though she’d probably do it literally if she knew there was such a list.
She tilts her head back to let the water rinse through her hair, and I press up against her, helping to sluice the suds out. “Tell me more about it? The club.”
I gather my thoughts, wanting to give her more than the elevator speech I give most people, especially since she already knows the basics. “I was in college, surrounded by guys who were half-ass stumbling through every day, assuming they were going to be big shots after graduation, but they wanted to be treated like they already were.” I chuckle, remembering one of the guys whose Daddy was a rich CEO-type and how he’d lead with that as if he had something to do with it. He’d literally introduce himself as Max Winston, oftheWinston Warehouses. It’d worked okay for him until he pulled that shit on an actual prince who was at school on a diplomatic student visa and answered with, ‘Prince Pietro, ofthecrown’. Max deflated pretty quickly at that, and no one would let him live it down, laughing and mocking him anytime he tried that shit again, especially if it was to get a girl.
“Competition for a place in the hierarchy is weird at that age. When I graduated, Evan and I talked a lot about how to have a positive impact. We came up with the club and the podcast and have been working our asses off ever since. He’s the realist, the planner, and I’m the dreamer, the connector. We balance each other so that we can give guys a place to become their best selves. A little guidance, a lot of positive peer experiences, and a sprinkling of learning opportunities disguised as fun.”
