Hating the Guy at the End...

Chapter Nine: Pillowtalk or Regretful self-loathing?

"Occasionally." Samuel finally answered while following close behind, already stripping from his suit jacket and tie, along with his watch and college graduation ring.

"You bring girls to this dull cloud of fun?"

"Not many woman are focused on my sense of decorating, they barely give themselves a tour before and after we fuck."

"So, this is indication that you want me gone after this?" I stopped just before he bed and turned to him. His best was already slung over the small couch between the bathroom and closet, his suit jacket laid across the dresser with his tie, now he was working on his button top- unhooking one white button at a time without looking away or removing that sexy strict look upon his face. Did I just refer to him as sexy? Sex is a very dangerous factor...

Samuel simply shrugged his shoulders while slipping off his shirt and taking off the thin under barrier between his true form and expensive fabric. Hairy chest... I always loved hairy chested men, I think it makes them look rough and stronger, plus the six pack and large muscular arms. Okay, he has officially made this decision not entirely a mistake. I went to unzip my dress, but he knocked my hands down by reaching for the thin zipper with one hand while the other caressed my sides and ass.

Doing the rest of he work by removing the spaghetti straps off my shoulders and rolling the dress down to my ankles, my breast was exposed like a million times before. Like those other million times, this was different, more intimate and also intimidating. Not as intimidating as the photo shoot, but it's a little more special in a way; I'm sharing my body with him, I'm going to have sex and I don't pass that around to everyone. Yeah, I may give a few hand jobs here and there, but what does that men? What does this mean? "We don't have to do foreplay." I rushed out when reaching for my lace band of my erotic underwear, I tugged those off as well and tried not to hide my lady part from his gaze.

Samuel looked me up and down very slowly, taking me in, praising my body with his gaze, biting the bottom of his lip before licking them. Instead of saying anything about my comment, he kicked the tips of his middle and index finger and done the boldest thing that was better than the kiss. He placed those those two fingers in between the lips of my sex, I gasped in response from the sudden action and also moan from his rough but also gentle touch.

In a circular motion, he rubbed me; caused my juices to flow, that flame of passion to form inside my stomach, for me to ache and moan, grip his arm for more and shoulder as if I were pulling away- confused on what to do, rather I want more or for him to get on with it. I was conflicted, clouded from judgment, not know rather to beg or curse, to fall into the bed or keep standing her until my knees give out. What do I do? I need order, someone to tell me what to do, someone to take control. I need Samuel to take control, and he did without me actually saying it- apparently it was in my touch and sounds of pleasure that escaped my throat, the way my eyes flutter closed and open, the way my push became wetter, and nipples hardened. I need Samuel Jones.

Removing his fingers from my sex, Samuel guided me to the desktop in front of the window, the draft made me shiver- along with the cold surface under my as when he picked me up by my thighs. The bed wasn't an option, at least not yet. Unbuckling his pants and shoving them off with his briefs, he opened one of the drawers in the desk to retrieve the Trojan horse- he ripped it open with his teeth and slide the latex barrier onto his hard cock that was definitely thick, I can give him that.

He shoved himself inside me, one thrust it took to unravel and melt on that desk; my legs spread wide, toes pointing upward to the ceiling, head tilted back, hands gripped to the edge for dear life, as my breast were caught in his mouth and hand, and arm wrapped around my wrist to keep me from truly falling. In and out he went, hard, sharp, and fast; I could barely breath nor comprehend on anything but the dim lighting that surround us and the cold draft that made my skin warm instead of hot.