Page 56 of His Dark Vices

Sam responds with a chuckle, ignoring my request. "This is the way you like it, Bree, just like this. Isn't that right?" He easily pins my wrists above my head again, covering my mouth with the other hand. "Aren't you glad to have a man who will fuck you just the way you like it? You think you want to be fucked hard and fast, but I know what you really want. You want it juuust like this. You want me to work you up slowly so you can really explode."

His voice is low and thick, but I can hear the effort it takes to keep himself in control. And I know he's right. Nothing feels better than getting helplessly worked up like this, having no choice but to take it.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as I nod at his words. The fight goes out of me, my body relaxing beneath him. I give in again, give over everything I have, just like I want to.

"There you go, baby, just take it. Show me how you like to come."

Sam's hand slips from my lips and attaches to my waist, his dick digging out my cries. As I start to chant his name, I hear him swear under his breath, his panting mingling with my voice. I know he feels me getting close. My pussy is clenching hard, wanting him to stay buried, wanting us to stay as one.

And when I feel his hand in mine, hear his whispers in my ear, commanding me to come for him, I let it all go, screaming my pleasure as I come hard. He doesn't hold on for much longer—he's filling me with his hot seed in the next moment, each spurt making him buck.

Warmth spreads inside me, deep, lightness starting to overtake me. Our heavy panting mingles, and between breaths, he drops kisses on my back, murmuring praises here and there.

We're still one right now, connected, sharing something. His heartbeat is thumping against my back, and he's letting some of his comforting weight rest on my spent body.

I hold on to the moment for as long as I can.

When I hear the shower switch on, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I'm sitting on Sam's side of the bed, listening to the sound of the water running, wishing like hell thatthe afterglow of our sex had lasted longer. The afterglow was disappointingly brief, and as it faded away, anxiety and nausea settled in its place.

I've been able to dodge Sam's concern by faking fatigue. That's party true, but nothing is weighing me down like the reality of the fucked up situation we're in.

Sam orchestrated the death of his parents, and he's been stalking me for years, so deeply rooted in my life that I shudder to think what he's seen me do. How, exactly, does he know how I like to be fucked, for instance? In the moment, when I was at his mercy, I was living on his words.

Now I just feel violated and sick.

I stare off into space, numbness creeping over me. I close my eyes gratefully. I'd rather have blankness than the rush of fear and emotion. I don't know how to deal. A man has never made me feel like he has—is it because he's been stalking me? And it's over now. Can't that excuse the past behavior if we agree on a blank slate?

I scoff out loud, startling myself at the same time.

Fuck no.

I can't let myself be so pathetic just because the dick is good.

But isn't it more than that?

I angrily shove that thought aside. Sam seems to think I've fallen in love with him. Is he supposed to know me more than I know myself just because he's a creep? No, there's no way he can separate fact from fiction in this mess any better than I can.

Besides, what happens if I want to leave? Would he allow this years-long investment to slip away?

I heave a huge sigh and shake my head, my vision finally focusing on the thing I've been staring at this whole time. It's a little piece of fabric caught in the drawer of Sam's nightstand. Something so tiny wouldn't be worth getting confused over, ordinarily. But this little piece of fabric looks… lacy.

I reach for the drawer, paying no mind to the fact that I'm intruding on him. We'rewellpast that point by now. And when I open it up, I can't even react to what I'm seeing. It's a familiar sight. I have a drawer like this back in my apartment, although my collection is bigger, naturally.

But what is Sam doing with my panties in his drawer?

My eyes shut heavily in defeat, and my body starts moving on its own. Maybe that's why I sat on his side of the bed rather than on the side I've been claiming. Maybe I knew all along that I wouldn't stay here long.

I don't have an excuse for him. There's nothing I can think of to make this all right, and my panties in his drawer proves it all—Sam is more depraved than I even know.

I don't know Sam as he is at all. I can't stay with a man like that.

My heart grows heavier with each step, the sound of the shower fading into the background. I make my way down the stairs and into the living room, my eyes quickly sweeping the space, looking for anything I might have lying around. It's better to get it all while I can.

I'm not coming back.

I dress silently and pull my coat on, my mind empty. The last thing to do is givethatback. I've had it for too long, but it was never mine. It's always been Sam's.

I fish it out of my purse, finding it by touch, and set it on the table in the living room. How attached I'd become to it, my little Companion. But I was just talking to Sam all these years.

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