She comes, and it excites me so much—the sounds she makes, how her body arches off the counter, the way she looks me in the eye—that I almost come with her.
But scumbags don’t deserve release. So I don’t give in to mine.
I can’t be punished enough for what I’ve done, and what I’m doing now.
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
I come apart in Samuel’s hands.
His tongue on my pussy, his fingers curled into my thighs, I come so hard it knocks the breath out of me. The force of the orgasm is propulsive, sending wave after wave of sensation crashing through my center. My entire being pulses in time to the tide, a quick, eviscerating drumbeat I feel down to my toes.
It’s the best orgasm I’ve had in ages. Maybe because I shaved? I’m always experimenting with my grooming habits. Or maybe it’s because I’m coming on someone else’s fingers, with someone else’s tongue on my clit. I don’t have to try—to focus, to think, to fantasize—because the fantasy is happening right here, right now.
Granted, it’s a fucked-up fantasy. Can you even call a hate hookup with a coworker a fantasy, especially after that coworker treats you like shit?
But the man knows what he’s doing.
Those broad, strong fingers I’ve been staring at for days touched me just the way I like to be touched. His lips are as soft and full and knowledgeable as I imagined they’d be.
And there’s something true about the way he’s looking at me right now, blue eyes wide and full of emotion. He’s not hiding or smirking or glowering. He’s shocked, just as shocked as I am that he likes what I like.
He likes that I like being bossy. From the way he looks, and keeps looking, I can tell he’s curious too. He’s not afraid. He’s not judging me.
I’ve met so few men outside the internet who don’t judge me for being on the alpha side of the power dynamic scale I’ve started to believe they didn’t exist.
But none of that matters when the guy in question treats you like garbage. Even a great orgasm doesn’t change that.
It also doesn’t change the fact that I never should’ve touched Samuel in the first place. This is wrong in a million ways.
He was wrong to taunt me, and I was wrong to let him.
How awkward is it going to be at work now? Will I be distracted and fuck up? What if Samuel runs his mouth, and it gets out I was (mostly) naked with a Beauregard brother?
I have so much to lose. My dream job. My reputation. My entire future.
Because here’s the reality of the situation: I have a hell of a lot more at risk than Samuel does. He has an ownership stake in the resort, for crying out loud. His brother’s the CEO. He’d have to do something pretty egregious to lose his position. But me? I’m new. No one really knows me, not yet anyway, so I’m vulnerable in ways Samuel will never be.
My orgasm fades, and the reality of what just went down sinks into my skin like a chill. I’m naked in Samuel Beauregard’s kitchen. Tit out and legs spread, his handsome head between them. Mouth slick with my arousal.
Looking down at him, I’m overcome by anger like I’ve never known.
“What is it?” he asks, his brow crinkling. “Emma, talk to me.”
My pulse thunders in my ears. I’m shaking. I’m needy. My body wants more, but I know better. I fucking know better.
I sit up. Tugging my bra over my breast, I look Samuel in the eyes. He has the nerve to appear concerned. Brows curved up, mouth curved down.
Longing rips through me. I want to believe him, to believe he cares, so very much. Today, I thought I saw a guy who cared. But clearly that was another front, another mask. Was he planning this all along?
Fuck him.
He reaches for me, but I flinch, pulling away.
His eyes go wide with confusion.
“Don’t,” I say, and I leap off the counter. Tugging up my leggings, I make a beeline for the front door.
I’m mortified by the sudden burn in my eyes. Keep it together. I have to keep it together until I’m safely out of this gorgeous hellhole. I will not let him see me cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
But Samuel is hot on my heels, footsteps heavy on the hardwood floors.
“Hey,” he says, reaching for my elbow. “Hey, look, whatever just happened, I’m sorry.”
I pull out of his grasp. “Stop pretending you give a shit.”
“Are you kidding? I just made you come. Of course I give a shit.”
We’re in the foyer now. He does this dip fake-out move thing and effortlessly overtakes me, putting himself between me and the door.
Athletes. Ugh.
“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“You know exactly what’s wrong.” I glare at him. “Step away, Beauregard. Now.”
“Please.” The pleading note in his voice gives me pause. He gestures to his impressive erection. “Look at me, Emma. I’m at your mercy here.”
No, I think. I’m at your mercy, and that’s the problem.
I reach for the doorknob, and he lets me. He steps aside, eyes following my every move, and I open the door.
“I really wish you wouldn’t leave like this,” he says.
“Why? Because you want to get off?”
His expression softens with hurt. “Because I know you don’t feel good about what just went down, and neither do I.”
Shaking my head, I scoff. “You take such pride in faking it. You’re good at pretending, Beauregard, I’ll give you that. Really, really good.”
“You really think I’m proud of that?”
“I think you don’t know who you are.” I meet his eyes one last time. “Who the fuck are you, Samuel?”
He looks stricken. He looks away, a muscle in his jaw clenching against his carefully trimmed scruff. “I don’t wanna be the kind of man who hurts you, I know that much.”
“Horseshit,” I say, throwing his earlier line back at him.
Before he can reply, I slip through the door and walk back to my cottage on unsteady legs. What the hell did I just do? I thought touching Samuel earlier today, and being touched by him, was inappropriate.
But I enjoyed it. I loved that Samuel didn’t fight me when I had my hand around his throat. That he let me tell him where and how I wanted him.
Stop. I can’t go down that path. This is my job, my future, my fucking career.
I cannot, under any circumstances, touch Samuel Beauregard again.
The only relationship I can have is one with Blue, especially while I’m proving myself here at the farm. But coming so hard with someone else’s hands on me makes me wish I could actually meet my cybersex partner.
I want his cock inside me, rather than just imagining how good it would feel.
What if we did meet in person?
I recognize I’m not exactly in the best state of mind to be making big decisions about my romantic life, but I need something to look forward to.
Something to give me a sense of hope. Because my situation at work just started to feel pretty fucking hopeless.
Blue did say he’s in the area. We could meet at a local restaurant or something. Have drinks and get to know each other. Chances are, the chemistry we have online won’t translate to the world outside our computers. Still, it’s worth a shot, right? He does have the body of a god. And a beautiful cock. Samuel’s girthy, heavy dick felt exactly the way I imagined Blue’s would feel in my hand.