“Darius,” she groaned, a hot gush of desire drenching his fingers. “I can’t stop it. Oh yes, yes,” she cried and came, her orgasm explosive as he continued to suckle her.
He mounted her then, the feel of his thick penis like living heat at the entrance of her core. Waiting until she stared into his eyes, eyes that shone a fiery, inhuman red, he slowly eased inside…
“Everything okay in there?” A woman’s voice asked from outside the door at the same time the doorknob rattled.
Shaken and confused, it took Samantha a minute to understand what had happened. Thoroughly embarrassed, she cleared her throat and spoke loudly enough to be heard through the door. “Yeah, sorry. Just a bad dream.”
“Right, well, I’ll come back later then.” Footsteps and a squeaky wheel faded into silence before a door down the hall opened and banged shut.
Samantha glanced at the alarm clock on the bedstand. Eleven o’clock. Wiping her sweaty forehead, she threw the heavy comforter off her and swung her legs to the floor. She grimaced when she stood, uncomfortably aware of the moisture between her legs.
I had an erotic dream. Big deal. Except one of the maids had heard her scream.
Samantha felt her face heat and tried to shrug off the embarrassment as she headed into the bathroom. But she still couldn’t believe how real the dream had felt. As she stood under the shower’s warm stream, she could easily recall every detail about Darius Storm, what he looked like, what he smelled like, what he tasted like.
She stilled. She hadn’t had one of those dreams in months.
Then a detail of her dream flashed before her. Darius Storm had stared down at her with red eyes. She immediately relaxed, relieved her dream was nothing but her horny subconscious screaming for sex.
Just a dream, not a vision. Nothing to worry over.
Shaking her head to escape her fanciful thoughts, she forced herself to focus on the here and now.
“Mundane details,” she muttered as the water massaged her scalp. “Find an apartment, check on storage, and forget about gorgeous dream men and their amazingly skilled mouths.” She ran her fingers through her hair, rinsing out the shampoo as if rinsing away the pleasure she’d recently felt. “And no more orgasms.”
Orgasms led to needs and desires she’d been working hard to suppress. Hell, she didn’t even touch herself anymore.
After a year with Josh-the-Asshole, she’d thoroughly finished searching for Mr. Right. The fact of the matter was she kept settling for Mr. Right Now, despite her desire not to lower her standards.
Samantha didn’t understand her inability to find someone worthy of her affections. She didn’t ask for much. A man to love her, to respect her, and most importantly, she wanted someone in whom she could trust. She thought about her needs and secrets, the deepest core of herself she’d never shown anyone.
Only a man that truly shared her spirit would understand that which drove her. A strong, intelligent partner to comprehend the oddities that made up the woman who saw things others didn’t.
She turned off the water and shivered while she sought a fresh towel. Drying herself, she couldn’t help pondering whether Darius Storm had any hidden depths. On the surface he seemed a lewd playboy too confident of his desirability. Sure, he was beautiful with a body to match, but was there anything more beneath his perfect face?
At thoughts of him her body tingled and she cursed as she dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater. The man had taken advantage of her last night, coming on to her after scaring her half to death in the basement. So what that she’d felt exceedingly needy. It made sense considering how long she’d been without sex. Adding a man like Darius Storm to the mix was like adding a match to a pile of kindling drenched in kerosene.
No, she would do better to live on her own devoid of men, building a secure life for herself both financially and emotionally before she even thought about dating again. Shrugging on a thin parka designed to keep out the cold and wrapping her neck in a scarf, she exited the room with a fresh outlook.
She had returned to Seattle to begin anew. New client, new apartment, new attitude. Smiling, Samantha descended to the ground floor and left the hotel with a spring in her step, despite the wintry weather.
Avoiding several patches of ice, she made her way towards a small but trendy restaurant and ordered a large coffee and a late breakfast.
She sat by the window as she ate, hungry not only for food but also for the familiar sight of the city she’d missed for the last year. At the time of her break-up, distance had seemed just the cure for her battered heart. But now that she’d returned, she realised how much she’d missed her adopted home.
Raised in the Northeast, she’d grown accustomed to harsh winters and clustered traffic. Seattle had plenty of snow and traffic jams, yet the spacious outdoors and clear, crisp air made up for the growing population.
She would never regret the job that had taken her from Philadelphia. It had been exciting to travel across the country to Washington. And Seattle’s bright mix of artistic temperament and lucrative marketing concerns had made her transition to the West Coast remarkably easy. After three years with J. Applet Financial, however, she’d moved onwards and upwards.
Though her potential for promotion had been stymied thanks to the sexist jerks running the business, she had received plenty of experience and made enough contacts to start her own consulting firm, one that until recently had kept her away from Seattle.
Digging into her Spanish omelette with gusto, she began to feel a renewed sense of energy when a commotion outside distracted her.
Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, she watched as a woman dressed in a thick wool coat, which likely cost five times what Samantha’s parka had, argued with a well-dressed man who stood with his back to the restaurant window.
His height and posture reminded her of Darius, but she couldn’t see Darius Storm owning a fancy suit, let alone wearing one. From what she’d heard of him through Gerry and seen of him last night, he was strictly a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. This man, however, wore a dark designer suit, carried a trench coat over one arm and a briefcase in his hand.
Agitated, he donned his trench coat and ran a hand through his thick black hair while gesturing something at the woman. Damn, she wished he’d turn so she could see his face.
Samantha glanced around her, not surprised to see others—specifically the female patrons—staring at the scene outside. The woman’s voice had risen so that occasional shrieks of outrage could be heard even through the thick glass of the restaurant window.
Shaking her head, Samantha pushed at the remainder of omelette on her plate as she watched the crumbling woman. She forced herself to take another bite, trying hard to distance herself from the woman’s hurt. Men aren’t worth it, she mentally chided. Trust me, lady, I know.
When the woman started crying, the man finally pulled away from her and strode in the direction of the restaurant. Several gasps and ahs floated around her, but Samantha could only stare in astonishment.
She’d been wrong.
Darius did own a suit and looked like a million bucks wearing it. He appeared just as dangerous as the last time she’d seen him, but now he wore a subtle sheen of sophistication from his wing-tipped black shoes to his neatly brushed hair. A corporate shark who’d just ripped the heart from another female victim.
Imagine ending a relationship with him. Josh had been difficult to part from, but he was only a man. Darius seemed much more than that, a larger-than-life heartbreaker.