Page 10 of Resisting His Charm
I don’t tell him the only time I’ve ever had multiple orgasms was with myself. Instead, I smile and nod my head as his fingers plunge into my opening.
“Shit!” I groan in pleasure as he reaches right up to that little hidden spot deep inside me. “I need…” I moan, gripping his forearms. “Damn it, even your arms are hard.”
Sammie laughs as his mouth wraps around one of my breasts and his fingers continue their assault on my pussy. It doesn’t take long before I feel another orgasm building.
“How?” I mutter as I close my eyes and give myself over to the pleasure.
When I open them again, Sammie is looking down at me. “Two.”
“Two.” I smile wide. Maybe I’m dreaming. That has to be what this is, because men like Sammie Russo Junior don’t exist in real life. No one can be this good with their tongues and fingers.
I watch as he tears open a condom. “You sure you want this?” he asks, rolling it down his shaft.
“I want this,” I tell him.
He settles between my thighs, the tip of his cock pressing against my opening.
“Just go slow. I’ve never… had anything this big inside me,” I admit.
He smiles like a proud kid who just got a gold star. “I’ll go slow.”
He slides his dick in, inch by agonizingly-slow inch, until he’s fully buried inside me. My walls are contracting around him, adjusting to the intrusion. A slight burn gives way to pleasure.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he groans.
“You can move now. I’m good,” I tell him, and it’s as if I waved some kind of flag, because move he does.
Sammie fucks me within an inch of my life, and I swear I almost pass out when he gets yet another orgasm out of me.
Chapter Five
Waking up alone isn’t usually a problem for me. It’s preferable. Until right now, when the first thought I had was rolling on top of Poppy and burying myself inside her again. Except she’s not here. The bed’s cold where she should be.
How the fuck did she get up without me noticing?
Dragging myself out of bed, I head for the bathroom and have one of the world’s quickest, coldest showers. I don’t know where my little runaway went, but I will find her.
Once I’m dressed, I walk down the hall to her friend’s room. It’s empty too.
As I make my way to the undercover garage, I log into the system at Paris and look up the name Poppy Kestral. Her reservation pops up, showing that she’s already checked out.
I have an early flight.Her words from last night repeat in my head. She’s gone. I take a screenshot of her details: name, address, phone number. Zoom in and groan. Fucking Texas.
I should be relieved. I won’t ever see her again. This is how I like things to be.
I jump into my car and head to my parents’ house. It’s early, I know. Imogen won’t be out of bed yet and I need to make sure my sister eats breakfast after not eating dinner last night.
My phone rings just as I’m pulling up the driveway. Alfie’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hey, got that guy you were looking for,” he says.
“Good. I’ll be there soon. I’m just at my parents,” I tell him.
“I’m leaving him on ice for you. I got shit to do.” He cuts the call.
I climb out of the car and jog up to the front door. I manage to make it to my bedroom and change out of yesterday’s clothes before I head back downstairs to the kitchen.
I’m halfway through making a mushroom, onion, and avocado omelet—I know it’s disgusting but Imogen loves them—when my dad walks in.
