Page 11 of Chase

“No. There’s something you need to learn if this is going to be a regular event.” She blinked up at me with bright blue eyes, her fierce expression morphed into curiosity. “When I fuck, I like to be in control. As this is our first time, I’ve been gentle.”

“Why? I’m a big girl. Tell me what you want to do to me.” Her lips widened to expose perfect white teeth. I tightened the grip on her left wrist.

“I want to tie this to that.” My eyes moved deliberately to the left-hand bedpost. Her line of vision followed mine. “Then I want to do the same to this one over here.” I transferred the pressure to her right wrist before moving my focus to the right-hand bedpost. Her breasts rose into the air as a breath caught in her throat.

“Are you nasty in the bedroom, Mr. Chase?” she teased, and I smiled to myself.

“Nasty? No. Demanding? One hundred percent. When you allow me to do what I want to do to you, Sam, I want you to enjoy it. I want to be able to secure you, and use your body for my pleasure while you crumble under me.” Her breathing, which was getting louder with my words, deepened further. With my left hand, I skimmed her skin then placed my palm over her pussy. “Are you wet thinking of what it would feel like for me to have complete control of you?”

“Yes,” she hissed between her teeth. “I want it now.”

“No, our first time needs to be like this. But one night soon, I’ll tie you up, spread your legs, and fuck you until you can’t walk. Now, close your eyes.” The blue orbs I’d been fixated on disappeared. I quickly freed my cock and moved the scrap of material dividing us to the side, then slid between swollen, wet lips.

Her pussy opened enough to let me in, but her walls held on tightly. She groaned with my entry, immediately flexing, her hips wanting more. “You’re on birth control?” I whispered, dropping my lips to her ear.

“Uh huh,” she confirmed, eyes still closed.

“Good, because I never want to fuck you with anything between us. You feel so fucking good, Sam.” Her eyes opened, and she smiled the most dazzling smile.

“Move,” she said, deliberately mouthing the word. “I want to feel what it’s like to be fucked by a gentleman.”

“A gentleman, you say. I doubt you will call me that after you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Sex has mostly been pleasurable for me. I could count on one hand how many times I’ve not enjoyed the feel of a woman. Over the years, though, I’ve never had a serious relationship. Sure, some girls hung around for a while, but I was never sure if they were there for me or my wallet. My experience has been that as time passes, expectations increase. The restaurants have to get more expensive, the trips more luxurious, and the gifts more frequent. When the time inevitably comes that I feel more like an ATM than a man, I tend to end the connection.

Samantha, however, emits an alien vibe—one I am unfamiliar with. When we are together, her attention is never fixed on the label on my suit jacket or the color of my credit card. When she talks to me, she looks me dead in the eye, her focus never wavering from the words coming from my lips. She listens and responds with sensible points or an amusing quip.

The conversations we’ve had over these few short weeks have been mind-blowing. Not because of the content, but because of the interaction. The fact is, she listens to what I say. She’s interested in my opinions on topics that may seem unimportant to most. She seems happy for me to discuss my latest artwork purchase or the new horror novel I’m engrossed in. We touch on my work and my role within the law firm, where I fit into the puzzle of Chase, Chase, and Waite. We speak about my ongoing issues with the family dynamic between my criminal father and Violet.

Russell’s never-ending issues and toxic temperament seem to be a recurring theme. I’ve told her stories of our childhood, the good and the bad. We discuss whatever pops into our heads at the moment, whether it’s complex or a random news report we see in the newspaper as we pass by the store.

In return, she’s given me a small glimpse into who she is, though her information is guarded. She talks of her childhood fondly. Her parents still live on the coast somewhere in a small cottage by the sea. She speaks to them often but hasn’t visited in a while due to her work commitments and lack of funds. London is an expensive place to live when you’re trying to make ends meet. What would be pocket change to me is a week’s wages to her, and that’s a fact I’m highly aware of.

She’s talked of her disappointment over how her career has progressed. The bright lights she craved so badly have dulled in her eyes. I can see it. For all her buckets of sass and independence, Samantha Coleman is lost in some ways. She's stuck somewhere between wanting a better life and being forced to work to pay for the one she has.

There’s a lot I don’t know about her, and I know if I wanted to, I have the connections to find out. In the past, I would have, but what I have with Sam is different. There’s a trust there I’ve never felt before and deep down, I truly believe I’ll find everything I need to know when the time feels right for her.

Chapter six

Samantha and Mia’s Apartment, London

Samantha

Connor Chase can fuck. The man knows how to please a woman. Last night was all the evidence I needed to prove it. He put every ounce of effort into my pleasure, and I have every intention of enjoying round two as soon as possible. He was dominant but gentle, his promises for our future meetings thrilling. The dull ache between my legs throbs for my attention, reminding me of where he was.

Fuck, I can still feel him. The sensation of my body wrapped around him is fresh in my mind.

Once he slid inside me, he filled every inch until I came around his cock. Holding my wrists firmly on the pillows, his thrusts became more urgent. As I strained against his touch, he pushed harder; the soft purple bruise on my left wrist tells me he got carried away. It was a taste of the lover he could be.

He’s sworn this was the first of many pleasurable experiences, but I suspect what he has in mind could push the limits of my control. He wants me completely at his mercy, and my body available for him to do as he pleases. The idea is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The one thing Connor has in his favor, that most men I’ve been involved with don’t, is I trust him. I’m playing with a gentleman in public, but a deviant between the sheets. The thought makes my heart race but my pussy ache, both parts of my body straining for more contact with him.

My striptease in the middle of his kitchen hadn’t been planned, but Russell had pushed my buttons earlier in the evening. The bastard has this amazing talent of being a complete and utter asshole every time he opens his mouth. His bad mood and shitty personality are somehow intriguing, though. My infatuation with terrible men started as a teenager and never stopped. If they’re stitched out of red flags I’m all in, and both Chase brothers have more than plenty, albeit in different ways.

I had been leaving my apartment yesterday evening when I stepped out onto the cold pavement and directly into Russell's chest. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and gently directed me backward. When I glanced up, his intense brown eyes stared back.

“You have an appointment this evening I believe, Trouble,” he said casually, then released me from his grip. “Please allow me to escort you to my brother’s home.” He had lifted one hand into the air and waved it in a grand gesture as he bowed.

My focus moved to the sleek black sports car sitting at the curb—the number plate CH4SE didn’t attempt to hide who it belonged to. The alloy wheels glinted under the low streetlight, each one with too many spokes to count. In the center was a black badge with his surname elegantly embossed across the middle in silver. It screamed wealth, self-assured male, and idiotic superiority. It was pathetically mesmerizing.

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