Page 11 of Not-So Real Breakup

“Don’t apologize for being tired, baby. It was a hell of a day.” I gestured to the large island. “Are you hungry? Why don’t you sit and I’ll fix you dinner?”

Samantha yawned as she hopped up onto one of the stools. “I could eat.”

I smiled and retrieved two bowls and some silverware, then filled the dishes with pasta before bringing them to the island and sitting on the stool beside her.

“Mmm, this is delicious,” she effused after taking her first bite. She ate every morsel, and when I filled her bowl again, she devoured all of that too.

“I was hungrier than I thought,” she giggled with pink cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that.” I trailed a finger over her cheek. “Seeing a woman eat like a human instead of a rabbit is refreshing.”

Samantha laughed and climbed off her seat to take her dish to the sink.

“Leave it, baby,” I instructed when she turned on the faucet to rinse it. “The housekeeper will get everything in the morning.”

I couldn’t help laughing at the expression on her face. She looked thoroughly confused, and in her mussed state, it was fucking adorable. “You have a housekeeper? You don’t normally do dishes?” The prospect seemed to delight her for a moment, then her face fell, and she shook her head. “She doesn’t need any more work than she already has,” she insisted as she flipped on the water again.

Laughing, I picked up my dishes and hurried over to put them in the sink and shut the water off. “I have a feeling that being a billionaire is going to take some getting used to for you.”

Samantha stared up at me, her blue eyes swirling with questions, but she must have decided she wasn’t ready to ask because she licked her lips and walked back to the island.

“Are you still tired?”

She shook her head. “I shouldn't have taken such a late nap. I’m wide awake now.”

I smiled and closed the distance between us, looping my arms around her waist. “Luckily, there’s a lot to do around here,” I teased before kissing the tip of her nose.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “As much fun as it would be to play with all of your toys”—my cock turned to stone, and I swallowed hard at all the thoughts her words had conjured up. All the while, she seemed oblivious to the dirtier interpretations of what she’d said—“I don’t think I’m quite awake enough for more than watching a movie.”

I shook my head as if that would clear away the fog of lust threatening to choke me and latched onto what she’d said. “Movie,” I croaked. “I can definitely do that.”

The theater room was on the opposite side of the house, but it had its own kitchenette stocked with treats. I didn’t bother grabbing anything before taking Samantha to a room that resembled an actual big screen theater with a projector, stadium seating—except the chairs were big, comfy recliners with a few love seats and a couple of couches.

I guided Samantha to one of the couches and handed her the remote, telling her to pick whatever she wanted while I fixed some popcorn and grabbed two bottles of cold water. She picked a comedy that I’d seen before, but I enjoyed watching her reactions to it more than the movie itself.

We’d started out with me lounging on the end of the sofa and Samantha curled up in the middle. But throughout the show, she moved closer and closer, little by little, until she ended up snuggled into my side with my arm wrapped around her.

I loved the feel of her body plastered to mine, but it was also an acute form of torture. Every time she laughed, gasped, or took a single fucking breath, it rubbed her tits against me.

The arm I had around her waist eventually developed a mind of its own and leisurely inched up until my hand was resting just below her breast. My thumb softly brushed back and forth on the underside of the rounded globe, and though it was so quiet I almost missed it, Samantha’s breath hitched.

Moving with deliberate slowness, giving Samantha plenty of opportunity to stop me, I shifted her body so she was in front of me. The footrest was up, and the back slightly reclined, so she sat between my spread legs and leaned back against me.

For a moment, I rested my hands on her curvy hips, then glided them up her torso until I cupped her breasts. When my thumbs passed lightly over her nipples, she let out a tiny moan, and a shiver raced through her body.

I buried my head in her thick, strawberry-scented curls and inhaled deeply as I tried to get a better grip on my control. Gently, I massaged her globes before twisting and plucking the rigid tips.

“James,” she murmured as her body squirmed against me. When my rock-hard shaft pressed against her ass, she froze. I waited on pins and needles to see what she would do next. After what seemed like an eternity, she wiggled again and pressed herself even closer to me.

“Fuck,” I grunted as I released one of her tits to move all of her hair to one side so I could nibble and suck on the sensitive skin of her neck. Then my hands traveled south to the hem of the shirt she was wearing, resting on her legs, just above her knees.

Samantha trembled as I inched my hands up under the material, sliding them along her silky skin.

When I reached the apex of her thighs, I paused. “Are you wet for me, baby?” I purred in her ear.

A tiny sound escaped her lips, and I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. She finally nodded, and I grinned against the damp skin of her neck as I pressed on her thighs, moving her legs and draping them over mine so she was wide open. Then I finished the trek up to her center, and the whole world froze.

“You aren’t wearing panties?”

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