‘Are you mine?’ he asked softly and began very slowly to trace the hollows of her sex with the tip of his cock, teasing her, tormenting her.
Breathless, she nodded, moaning as he pushed a little way into her and withdrew. ‘Sam… please… please…’
He pushed his cock a little further in… and again, withdrew. She almost screamed in frustration, and it thrilled him to see how much she wanted him.
‘Would you like me to fuck you now, Isabel?’
‘Yes…yes…’
Without warning, he pulled her onto the floor, pressed her legs as far apart as they would go and buried his cock in her as hard as he could, forcing her hands above her head, thrusting with long, brutal strokes. It should have frightened him the way he could so easily lose control with her, hurt her, but Sam knew, in his heart that he never could, never would. They fit together so perfectly, read each other, knew each other already so well…
Later, after a long, luxurious, and definitely X-rated soak in his huge bathtub, they were dressed for dinner. He was ready and pouring them a drink when she appeared in the doorway. His breath caught his throat. Her silky pale pink dress skimmed her hips, swept over the rise and fall of her breasts, clung to the curve of her belly so he could see the hollow of her navel. The tiny beads on the dress threw little sparks of light up into her face, into her lovely eyes, her dark hair was pulled softly over one shoulder.
‘You’re stunning.’ He said softly, and she smiled shyly.
‘I thought I’d dress up for you,’ she walked to him, placing her hands gently on his chest, reaching up to kiss him. Then she smiled wickedly. ‘Just this once – I wouldn’t want you to get complacent.’
Sam grinned down at her. ‘Never. God, how I am supposed to concentrate on anything else when you look like that?’
Isa laughed and took his hand, tugging towards the door. ‘Come on, horn dog, your brother awaits. Let’s not keep him waiting.’
Sam let her drag him to the elevator. ‘He’d understand, believe me.’
As Sam predicted, Cal took to her straight away, and Isa was glad that the young man seemed as easy-going and as friendly as his brother. The physical difference between the two men was striking; Sam, immensely tall and muscular, dark and angular. Cal was softer looking, his dirty blond curls wild about his head, his merry eyes full of mischief. He ribbed his brother on keeping Isa a secret; then pretended he didn’t know that they’d only met the day before.
Isa took a slug of her drink, watching the two brothers bicker good-naturedly. One day. One day and her life had changed beyond measure. Because of him, because of Sam. It was almost unbelievable – in fact, she hardly believed it. The animal, unbearable need he had brought out in her and yet she didn’t know this man. She ignored the prickle of uncertainty, told herself; Zoe had known him for years and she trusted her opinion. Her de facto mother had raved about the man, told her and Seb stories of his incredible taste, his work ethic, his love of art and artists. Above all else, he’s an absolutely sweetheart, Zoe had told her with her eyes shining. Zoe wasn’t wrong.
She just hadn’t expected him to be so… it was a connection she had never experienced, not just sexual, not just physical but even without knowing the minutiae of his life, she felt closer to him than any other person she’d ever met.
She was pulled from her reverie by Cal, waving a hand in front of her face, and she smiled at the young man. It was weird; Cal was the same age as her – twenty-eight, Sam had told her – but she felt like his big sister.
‘Sorry, Cal, what was that?’
He grinned. ‘I asked if you wanted dessert.’
Isa grinned. ‘Oh hell, yes.’ Sam laughed at her eagerness and Cal nodded approvingly.
‘This one eats. Yep, I’m sold.’ He high-fived his brother, who rolled his eyes and looked at Isa apologetically, sliding a warm hand onto her thigh.
‘Please excuse my little brother, he has no filter.’
Isa felt a little sting – ‘this one’ – but she laughed it off. ‘Bet I can eat you under the table, skinny boy.’
Cal raised an eyebrow, smirking. ‘Challenge accepted.’ He raised his glass to them. ‘In any case, here’s to the both of you, and to your first show, Isa...’
‘I like him,’ she said later as they rode back up to his penthouse. Sam kissed her, her lips, her neck. He slid his hands under her dress, under the silk, and she laughed softly as his fingertips brushed her inner thighs, drifting upward to the soft mound of her sex.
‘I’m trying to tell you I like your brother,’ she protested. Sam grinned down at her wickedly.
‘Could you not talk about Cal when I’m trying to seduce you?’
She grinned then rested her head against his hard chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed, the steady beat of his heart. She closed her eyes.
‘I feel so safe with you.’ She couldn’t help the words from coming out, and the hand that was gently stroking her ass stopped.
‘Why wouldn’t you feel safe?’ He tipped her face up to his, and she was surprised by the look of concern in his eyes.
‘Oh, no no… sorry, I didn’t mean…’ she sighed. ‘I didn’t mean anything specific just that it’s strange. You feel like home to me.’ She flushed slightly but knew the truth of her words.
Sam’s face cleared, and his eyes were soft. ‘Thank you. That’s a wonderful thing to say and to hear.’
Later, as she lay in his arms, she stared out the huge windows to the starless night, rain constant against the glass, and thought about what she had said to him. Home.
Until Zoe had reached out to her, given her a real place to settle when she was eighteen, she’d never known what it was to have a home. Her father, a military surgeon, had moved his family all over the world: Germany, Japan, Diego Garcia, before settling in D.C. He had never wanted children and viewed Isa as an inconvenience – her mother, dissatisfied with her life, neglected her only child, and so Isa grew up a solitary and shy girl, with her head always buried in a book. They didn’t even care that she maintained straight A’s; was at the top of her class in English and Math as well as Art, and was a budding activist. A teacher at her high school noticed her potential, her intelligence, and took her under her wing, inspiring Isa, at sixteen, to seek legal emancipation from her parents. They didn’t fight it. Although she as relieved to be free, it didn’t stop the sting of knowing they didn’t care. Soon, she had lost all contact with them, and she was truly alone. She worked as a waitress, saved her money and move across the country, away from everything she’d ever known and built a new life. The moment she set foot in Seattle, she fell in love with the place and knew this was where she was supposed to be. The second day of college, she met Zoe and found her family.
Isa turned herself to face Sam. The hard angles of his face were softened by sleep. Isa studied his face intently, noting the curves of his brow, the pattern of scattered freckles and moles on his cheek, the color of his full lips and the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed.
She had been right – he did feel like home as if they had been destined. She stifled a snort. Way to get dramatic. If she was honest, this apartment, the obvious trappings of his great wealth left her a little uncomfortable, starkly aware of the myriad differences between them.
‘Can’t sleep?’
She felt him kiss her forehead and smiled up at him. ‘Just taking stock.’
He nodded, understanding. ‘This has been a wild twenty-four hours.’ He searched her face. ‘Regrets?’
She smiled. ‘Not one.’
‘Good.’ He kissed her, smoothing the hair away from her face as he moved on top of her. ‘You and me, kiddo, that’s how it’s going to be from now on. And you know what?’ He smiled as she wrapped her legs around his waist, press her body to his. ‘I think this is going to be incredible.’
The next few weeks flew by in a whirl of meetings, works, organization, press. Isa was carried along by Sam, Cal and Zoe’s plans for her first sh
ow. So much so she sometimes felt left behind by them. Cal had set up interviews with local press – something that Isa found terrifying – but Sam had been there, by her side, for every one of them, guiding her and jumping in when she got overwhelmed.
Sandy, her boss, had graciously given her some time off to prepare, was as excited as anyone to see her exhibit, but Isa felt guilty about leaving him alone at such a busy time.
It was a Saturday. The gallery was quiet, Zoe was at the Farmer’s Market and Isa was alone for the first time in weeks, working out how to place her paintings for best effect. She had changed her mind at least three times and was now getting frustrated with herself. She walked to the little office, to the little mini-fridge and snagged herself a soda. The bell on the gallery’s entry door jingled and, sighing, she went out to greet the newcomer.
A red-headed woman, who looked in her mid-thirties and expensively dressed, nodded at her. In silence, she walked around the gallery, appraising the artwork. Isa sat behind the desk, giving the woman space. It was only when the woman looked like she was heading into the closed off room where the exhibit would be, that Isa rose from her seat.
‘I’m sorry, that room is off limits for now. We’re having a show in a week or so.’ Feeling shy and awkward; she handed the woman a flyer. The woman studied it – for what appeared to be a strangely long time then looked up at Isa. Under her stare, Isa got the impression she was being appraised like the artwork and judged. The woman smiled eventually but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had yet to speak, and Isa began to feel creeped out by this odd woman. She offered up a small smile and turned to leave her alone, but the woman grasped stopped her, her bony fingers digging into the soft flesh of Isa’s forearm.
‘Just a quick preview?’ Her voice was higher than Isa expected, almost little-girl-like. Her ice-blue eyes, rimmed with red, bored into Isa’s.
Unease curled in Isa’s stomach, and she gave a small, awkward smile.
‘I’d really prefer – ‘
‘Please. I don’t think I’ll be coming to the show; I don’t live in Seattle.’ The woman’s voice had an edge that Isa couldn’t figure out. She sighed; perhaps if she let the woman see her stuff, she’d leave quickly.
‘Okay, just a quick look.’
The woman walked slowly around Isa’s exhibit, taking in every painting fully. Isa could not read her reaction and the woman offered no comment.
She paused at the last one then looked at Isa. ‘They’re yours, aren’t they?’
Isa gave a tight little nod, waiting for her to continue. Her palms were sweating, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans. The woman flicked her gaze up and down Isa’s body, and her mouth jerked up in an unpleasant smirk. She brushed passed Isa rudely as she left the room. Isa’s cheeks flamed with heat, with embarrassment at the slight.
She followed the woman into the main gallery, and her heart leaped when she saw Sam arriving. He grinned at her, but when he saw the woman with her, his face went hard. She had never seen him look so cold and it sent a shiver down her back. She hadn’t realized he could look so terrifying. The woman stared back at him for a second then strode out of the gallery.
Sam shook himself then came to her. ‘You okay?’
Isa frowned. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What happened?’ There was an edge to his voice she didn’t understand, and she shook her head, frowning up at him.
‘She wanted to see my exhibit, insisted, so I let her see. She was so rude, so, God, I don’t know.’ She studied his face. ‘Sam, do you know her?’
His expression was stone, and she caught his hesitation before he spoke. ‘No. Did she say anything?’
Isa shook her head, finding herself close to tears. Grow a thicker skin, idiot. Sam saw her distress and hugged her.
‘Hey, let’s forget about her. I’m taking to you to lunch.’
She smiled gratefully at him. ‘Let me just freshen up.’
In the bathroom, she washed her hands and face, avoiding her reflection in the mirror and swallowing back the wave of nausea that came over her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.
It wasn’t the woman’s attitude now that was upsetting her. Not the implied criticism of her work. No. It was the realization, the thought, that something was not right here.
Because she was certain, now, above anything, that Sam, her beloved, beloved Sam, had just lied to her.
Sam watched Isa at lunch, picking at her food, avoiding eye contact. Shit. Why had he lied to her? And why the fuck had Casey been at the gallery?
When he’d walked in and saw her there with Isa, his stomach had dropped to the floor. A thousand questions beginning with: what the hell had she told Isa?
His life with Casey was a million light years ago; the marriage itself had lasted less than a year, and he’d regretted it seconds after he said ‘I do.’ He didn’t, he hadn’t, he shouldn’t have. Casey was a master of misdirection and of manipulation. Beautiful, talented but deadly. Her frequent infidelities he overlooked, mostly to protect Cal. For all her faults, Casey had adored Cal, had supported as he went through his teenage years, especially after Cal’s mother had died so suddenly when Cal was seventeen.
Isa excused herself to use the bathroom, and Sam watched her walk away. He shouldn’t have lied, but now it was too late to take it back. Shit. His cell phone chirped: a text message. He frowned, not recognizing the number. He clicked on the message.
She’s beautiful.
What the hell? Who is this? He texted back. No reply. He tried calling the number. Dead. Sam gritted his teeth, deleting the message. Casey. Casey was fucking with him. Sam switched his phone off, annoyed.
‘What’s up, Grampus?’ Isa bent to kiss his cheek before she sat back down. She seemed a little brighter.
Sam smiled, putting his hand over Isa’s. ‘Hey. Don’t let today get to you. There’ll always be – ‘
‘I know,’ Isa interrupted him, giving him a half smile. ‘I’m just tired.’
Sam traced the dark circles under her eyes with his thumb, felt gratified when she leaned into his touch. ‘Have I been pushing you too hard? I should have asked you before this. Is this what you want? I admit, I was so swept up in us, so blown away by your work that it just seemed the natural thing to do but I feel like I’ve steamrollered you into this show and I never asked – is this what you want?’
Isa smiled, a genuine smile, and he felt relief flood through him. ‘Sam, what you’re doing for me, I could never repay. You’re making my dream become a reality.’
Sam leaned over to kiss her. ‘Isabel, you are my dream.’
They left the restaurant soon after that and strolled back to her place, hand-in-hand. The late Fall evening was dark and cold, the rainwater from earlier still making the island’s roads slick.
In her bedroom, he stripped her slowly, tasting every part of her as he did, the delicious, delicate saltiness of her skin, breathing in the scent of her. When they were both naked, he lay on top of her, trailing his fingers down between her breasts, tracing a pattern around her navel, feeling her belly quiver. The feel of her soft, soft skin made him weak. She reached down to cup his balls, stroke his cock until it shuddered and hardened. It seemed, tonight, their lovemaking was slower, deeper, His cock strained, needing to be inside her. She gasped as he slowly entered her, keeping his strokes, slow, long, but plunging deeper with every thrust, her nails digging into his back. They moved together as one, their eyes locked, and he smoothed the hair away from her face. She was his, and he could hardly believe it.
‘I am so in love with you,’ he said simply and tears sprung into her eyes. She clung to him, and he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.
‘I love you, Sam,’ she whispered and pressed her lips to his. The joy felt almost unbearable.
As she reached orgasm, her body arched into his, her head flung back, his pace quickened, slamming his cock so deep into her she must have felt it in her belly. Sam smiled, groanin
g as he came, grinding his hungry mouth down on hers. Nothing else had ever, would ever feel like this, he knew with certainty, and as he continued to thrust, he forgot Casey, forgot the weird text and forgot everything except for the beautiful girl in his arms…
He watched Sam as he fucked her; his huge body covering her tiny one, and the man’s rage grew inside him, swelled, an incandescent fury. He gripped the wooden frame, trying to quell the roar of desperate betrayal rising in his chest. His eyes were locked on Isa; her beautiful body had an otherworldly glow in the lamplight of the apartment, the pale sheen of sweat on her skin as she rode Sam, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands pinned to the bed by his and the way that her soft, pink lips opened as she cried out with pleasure. He watched her come with shuddering, delirious pleasure and he had to look away.
Bitch.
He climbed slowly back down the stairs. She would scream for him too, with pain, with disbelief, with agony as he drove his knife into her again and again. The thought of her blood pumping out, soaking his hands made his groin tighten, his breath catch in his throat. Yes. Yes. He fantasized how Isabel’s lifeless body would feel in his arms; how he would kiss her lips as they grew cold with the finality of it all, her skin, her beautiful golden skin, turning the palest blue of death. Sam’s face and his grief when he found her body.
The man smiled. Enjoy fucking her, kissing her, tasting her. She’ll be dead soon enough. He looked up at the faint glow of the window and thought about him – he – would teach them about terror, about fear, about loss. Teach them that however deep, how complete their love, fairy tales always, always ended.
Zoe squinted at Isa as the younger woman hefted her canvases around the room. Isa was – again – rearranging her work as a means of distracting herself. Soon, a television crew from KOMO would be here to interview her. Isa’s nervous energy was making Zoe’s head spin, and eventually she grabbed her shoulders and forcibly shoved her into a chair.
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