“Okay then,” she said with an easy shrug and a too-knowing smile, clearly not believing him for a second. “Good night, Saint.”
Yeah, she was mocking him with the nickname, so he did the same. “Good night, Cupcake.”
She laughed, the lighthearted sound making him smile as she walked away, leaving him to wonder what her next plan of attack would be. And whether he’d have the strength and fortitude to resist.
Chapter Seven
Samantha closed the hardcover novel she was reading—a current best seller that had been lying on the coffee table—and exhaled a frustrated sigh. Three long days had passed since the night in the bar with Clay, and he’d made himself deliberately scarce ever since. He was gone when she woke up in the morning, and he remained downstairs long after closing while she returned to the apartment alone. For all she knew, he slept downstairs at the bar, as well.
Clearly, he was avoiding being alone with her, but that didn’t change the sexual pull between them, which was obvious and glaring when she saw him during her shift. Even when they were in the crowded bar, surrounded by dozens of people, she’d catch him watching her with those dark brown eyes—not as her employer but as a hot-blooded man who wanted to ravish her.
The thought made her shiver, especially since she’d already had a sampling of Clay’s seductive kisses, which were so delicious they became habit forming. And just like a junkie hooked on opiates, she craved more of him, her body constantly on edge with desire and the need to experience every last sensation he generated. He was her drug of choice, and withdrawals were starting to settle in and make her restless.
Standing up, she made her way into the kitchen in Clay’s apartment and poured herself a small glass of apple juice. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning, and she was bored. Over the past few days, she’d managed to keep herself busy until her shift started. She’d cleaned up Clay’s place and used some of her tip money to replenish the basics in his refrigerator—milk, bread, butter, some protein and fruits and vegetables so they’d have things to eat. She did his laundry, and one morning she’d strolled the neighborhood to familiarize herself with the area and the nearby businesses.
She’d found a family-owned grocery store, an Italian restaurant, and even a trendy boutique called Dress For Less, where she’d purchased a few cute outfits, a pretty matching lacy bra and panty set, and sandals all for less than fifty bucks. Another afternoon, she’d looked up the name and address of Mason’s tattoo shop on Clay’s laptop, and using MapQuest for directions, she’d walked the city block to Inked and checked out the place. Katrina had been sitting at the receptionist’s desk and greeted her with a friendly, welcoming smile. She’d even taken a break so they could get an iced coffee and chat for a bit about the frustrating men in their lives—Mason and Clay.
After much deliberation, Samantha had decided to send her mother a postcard with a brief note, just so her parents would know that she was okay and her choice to not come home was a deliberate one. She didn’t want their input or interference when it came to her decisions about what she would do with her life and future. She was still trying to figure that out. But the more she thought back on her conversation with Clay about her desire to be a pastry chef, the more the idea appealed to her. He hadn’t laughed at her, which only fueled her determination to try. She just wished she wasn’t so self-conscious about her lack of experience, the one main obstacle that caused her to hesitate in pursuing her dream job.
Today, though, she was out of ideas to keep herself busy. She finished off the chilled apple juice just as she felt a soft stroke of fur brush against her ankle. She glanced down and found Xena looking up at her with her one good eye and meowing softly. Smiling, Samantha picked up the sweet, loving cat and cuddled the feline against her chest, remembering the story Clay had told her about how he’d rescued the kitten when most people wouldn’t have saved her based on her mangy appearance and vet expenses.
“Your owner is a softy, you know that?” Samantha asked as she scratched Xena behind an ear, and grinned when the cat purred in agreement. “He’s also stubborn and hardheaded, gorgeous, and so freakin’ hot he drives me crazy,” she grumbled in exasperation.
As if commiserating, Xena rubbed her head against Samantha’s palm, shamelessly demanding the attention and affection she wanted.
That’s exactly what I need to do, Samantha suddenly realized with clarity—make her desires known and demand what she wanted, without taking no for an answer. There was no question that Clay was equally hot for her. One of them had to push past that steadfast control of his, and she knew it had to be her.
She shivered at the prospect of satisfying the sexual hunger between them, but, she admitted to herself, she hoped to gain more than just sex with Clay. She wanted an intimate glimpse into the man he really was. Based on what Katrina had told her and the few things Clay had shared, she already knew he’d had a rough life, and he quite obviously kept people at a distance because of it.
She ached to discover everything about the man. She’d glimpsed those darker shadows in his eyes when he’d talked about his past and told her about Jerry, the father figure in his life. What had happened to his real dad? As the oldest of three siblings, and clearly the responsible one, she suspected he’d taken on that role for his brothers. And what about his mother? Where was she now? Samantha wanted to know all that and more.
But right now, she’d settle for seducing him. Finally breaking down those physical barriers and experiencing the hot, dirty, sexual encounter he’d threatened her with in an effort to scare her away. Too bad for Clay, the new and emboldened Samantha Jamieson didn’t frighten easily.
She was in this for the long haul, whether Clay liked it…or not.
* * *
Clay was becoming a Tetris champion and not by choice. No, he was playing the online game on his office computer as a way to pass the hours until his employees arrived. Normally, he’d be upstairs, taking a break and relaxing before the bar opened, but he’d deemed the place off-limits while Samantha was up there during the day.
As a result of his self-imposed isolation, he’d never been so caught up on inventory, payroll, and scheduling. His office was cleaner than it had been in months, and all the paperwork that normally piled up on his desk was cleared off and filed, all invoices paid, compliance reports signed and submitted. He had nothing left to do during the day, so Tetris had become his best friend.
He just didn’t trust himself to be alone with Samantha and not do something incredibly stupid, like touch her, or kiss her again, which would undoubtedly lead to stripping her naked and slaking the lust that smoldered just below the surface.
At every opportunity, Samantha tempted him, and he knew if he allowed his control to slip any further, things between them would get down and dirty, and very quickly. Every man had a breaking point when it came to sex, and he was inches away from his. There would be no stopping the inevitable, and once he was deep inside her, he’d dominate her pleasure, dictate her release, and own her body. He physically shook at the thought of possessing this woman, and a low, tormented groan escaped his throat.
But the visual didn’t stop there, as the scene played out in his mind. He’d fucking demand everything she had to give, and steal even more, until she was too wasted to even think or move. Then he’d take her all over again. Harder. Faster. Deeper. That was the illicit fantasy that kept him tossing and turning on the couch all night long, his dick rock hard and throbbing for relief. Just as it was right now, he thought as he rubbed his palm over the growing bulge in his pants.
“Need some help with that?” a husky, feminine voice asked.
His eyes snapped back open. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating Samantha as a residual effect of the fantasy that he’d just entertained, but when she shut the office door and locked it behind her, he knew this woman was no figment of his imagination.
He also knew the moment of reckoning had arrived, and he sat up straighter in his cha
ir, wondering if his dwindling willpower had any chance against the determination shining in her eyes or the purposeful way she strolled toward his desk.
He didn’t know if she’d dressed for seduction, but the outfit she wore did it for him in a major way. A pale yellow lace top, cropped just above her waist, exposed the soft, creamy skin of her stomach, and a matching layered lace skirt that ended mid-thigh showed off her long, sexy legs. Her silky blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and as she closed the distance between them, he grew dizzy, as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room.
She came around the desk and stopped right between his spread thighs. Close enough for him to reach out and stroke his fingers along the bare flesh of her abdomen or down her long, sleek legs. Or, if he leaned forward, he could easily dip and swirl his tongue into her navel. Just the thought had his mouth watering for a taste.
With effort, he kept his hands and mouth to himself and dragged his gaze back up to her face. There was no missing the seductive smile on her pink, glossy lips or the naughty intentions flickering in her gaze. He was so screwed.
“How long do you intend to avoid being alone with me?” she asked, tipping her head to the side as she asked the question.
As long as possible, he wanted to say, except it didn’t escape his notice that he was alone with her now, so it was a moot point. And she knew it, too.
“It’s for your own good,” he said gruffly.
“Why is it that everyone else thinks they know what’s best for me?” A small frown formed between her brows. “When does what I want matter?”
He heard the annoyance in her voice, and even understood her frustration, but that didn’t stop him from trying one more time to dissuade her. “Samantha—”
“Please don’t say no,” she pleaded softly as she skimmed the tips of her fingers along his hard thigh, which sent a shaft of heat straight up to his already aching cock. “Not this time. I’m a grown woman, Clay, and I want you. And I know you feel the same way.” Her blue eyes shimmered with determination.
That same determination that kept her on the wrong side of town despite what her family wanted. She was a strong woman, despite having let herself be led down a path that was clearly wrong for her. She’d decided the time had come to take what she wanted from life. And she wanted him.
He clenched his jaw, his good intentions wavering as she leaned in closer. “You’re eating me up with those dark eyes right now, and even though you haven’t touched me yet, I’m getting wet at the thought of all the dirty things you want to do to me.” She slid her tongue along her full lips. “Not to mention all the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”
Oh, fuck me, he thought as the last of his self-control crumbled to dust. She’d become so bold and brazen since the first night he’d seen her sitting at his bar. In such a short time, she’d blossomed into a sensual, confident woman who wasn’t afraid to go after what she desired, so why was he denying them both the intense, heated pleasure they craved?
He could no longer answer that question, and at the moment, with her bracing her hands on his thighs and slowly lowering herself so that she was kneeling between his legs, his reasons no longer mattered.
“Take off your shirt so I can touch you,” she said softly, huskily, her guileless blue eyes encouraging him.
He immediately pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. She stared in awe at his bare chest, her fingers tightening on his denim-clad thighs as her gaze traveled all the way down to the thick length of his shaft straining against the fly of his jeans. He was hard as fuck for her.
Circling his fingers around her slender wrists, he guided both her hands up and placed them flat on his bare chest. Her palms were cool on his feverish skin, and the erotic contrast made him grit his teeth against the instinctive urge to take control of the situation, along with the woman who was making him feel so much more than just lust.
Soon, he told himself. But the next few minutes were for her. “Touch all you want, because once you’re done, I’m going to be in charge, do you understand?”
She nodded jerkily, and he released her wrists, giving her time to explore his body. Her teeth sank into her lush bottom lip as she reverently slid her hands over the muscular planes of his chest and down his rib cage, using her thumbs to trace the definition of his abs until she reached his jeans.
Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she looked up at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You’re so hard and hot…” she murmured as she leaned forward and licked a slow, sinuous path along his stomach with her soft, wet tongue. “And salty.”
A tremor passed through him, and he hissed out a breath, suddenly desperate to feel that beautiful, tempting mouth on his cock. Done letting her play, he tunneled the fingers of one hand tightly into her hair, making sure she knew and understood that he was now calling the shots.
Excitement brightened her gaze, and he knew they were on the same page.
“Unzip my pants and release my dick.”
Eagerly, she did as he demanded. When she had the fly of his jeans spread open, she grabbed the waistband and briefs and pulled them both down his hips, until his shaft was freed. His solid erection pulsed with need, and he circled his fingers around the firm length, slowly stroking his rigid flesh. She watched with a combination of fascination and dark, wild excitement. A drop of pre-cum seeped from the tip, and he dragged the pad of his thumb across the sensitive head, coating his finger with the sticky fluid.
Curious to see how far she was willing to go and how adventurous she would be, he pressed his slick thumb into her mouth so she could taste him. “You know what I want, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Dreamy eyes locked on his. She didn’t hesitate to close her lips around the finger, her tongue lapping around the digit and her teeth grazing his knuckle as she answered in actions, not words.
Oh, yeah, she knew exactly what was playing through his mind.
He withdrew his thumb from her warm, luscious mouth, already imagining filling it back up with his pulsing shaft. “Tell me what I want you to do with your soft, hot mouth,” he coaxed in a low, rough voice.
The enticing flush of anticipation swept across her cheeks. “You want me to suck your cock.”
Hearing his sweet cupcake speak those dirty words ramped up his lust even more. “Fuck yeah. I’ve been dying to feel your lips sliding down my cock. I’ve fantasized about it and jacked off in the shower with those images in my head.” Numerous times.
“Then let me,” she begged breathlessly. “Please.”
Done teasing them both, he wound the long strands of her hair around his fist, so tight and secure there would be no doubt in her mind who had the upper hand. That her mouth was his to do with as he pleased.
He guided her head forward, pushed his cock between her parted lips, and didn’t stop until the sensitive crest bumped against the back of her throat. She didn’t jerk back. Didn’t push away from him. Instead, her lashes fluttered closed and she moaned, the sound vibrating along his shaft and tightening his balls.
Jesus fucking Christ. His body shook like it was his first time getting a blow job, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to thrust his hips and fuck her perfect mouth harder, deeper. As it was, surrounded by all that silky heat and feeling the suctioning pull on his cock as he slowly drew her back up the length of his shaft, he suspected he was only going to last a few strokes.
She went down on him again, her greedy, hungry lips and tongue wreaking havoc with every last semblance of his control and shoving him closer to orgasm. The scrape of her fingernails down his flexing abdomen added to the erotic sensations surging through him, and when she opened her lashes and looked up at him with passion-blurred eyes that told him how much she loved sucking his cock, he was done for.
Breathing fast and feeling the rush of adrenaline in his veins warning him of his impending climax, he loosened his hold on her hair, giving her room to release hi
m. “I’m going to fucking come, Samantha. Hard,” he rasped, barely recognizing his own gravelly voice. “If you don’t want that, you need to stop. Now.”
She ignored his warning and took him to the back of her throat again and swallowed, the tight muscles there squeezing around the head and triggering the hottest, fiercest orgasm he’d ever had. The muscles in his stomach contracted, and he came on a hoarse shout, his hips jerking while her mouth continued to devastate him. Feeling as though he’d just been through a major hurricane, he dropped his head back against his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recover from the tempestuous storm that was Samantha.
It took a few minutes for his heart to stop racing and his breathing to return to normal, and when he finally opened his eyes again, he found her still kneeling on the floor in front of him, a pleased smile on her lips. And she had every right to be delighted with herself, because she’d just ruined him for any other woman.
Instead of dwelling on the implication of that unsettling thought, he focused his attention on making sure that he returned the favor and that Samantha was equally satisfied. Especially when he thought about what she’d told him about her ex, that he wouldn’t touch her between her legs because he was a germ freak. Before they were done, Clay was not only going to touch her soft, wet pussy with his fingers, he would lap up her delectable juices with his tongue and make sure every inch of his cock was covered in all that slick moisture while making her come as hard as he had.
“Stand up,” he said, back in control again.
Her eyes widened at the authoritative tone of his voice, but she quickly scrambled to her feet in front of him. He met her bright, anxious gaze and sat forward in his chair, his pants still undone. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he lifted his hand and skimmed his fingers up the inside of one quivering thigh. His hand disappeared beneath the hem of her short skirt, traveling up, up, up, until he reached the silky barrier of her panties.
Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1) Page 9
