“Sam Briggs,” Hailey said. “Sam Briggs and Hailey Cook. Sounds like quite the tough combo.”
“You bet,” I said.
“And you know what else?”
This time, Hailey moved to me, placing her hands on me. She didn’t say anything else. But I had one thing to say.
“Come,” I said, leading her out into the hall. “I’m not doing anything in this room until I make some changes.”
The instant Hailey crossed over the threshold of the room to my hallway, though, I pressed her against the wall and kissed her.
Hailey
As soon as Satan—Sam, rather, I wanted to refer to him as Sam—had said, “Something about you, Hailey Cook,” I couldn’t wait to get to this point.
I was very cognizant of the fact that this man, the president of an MC, the toughest man in Phoenix, the hardest shell to crack, was opening up, and that had to be painful. And for almost the entirety of the time in his room, I listened with empathy and warmth.
The instant it became evident he was moving past feelings of the past and hope toward the future, though, and that that future involved me…yeah, it was on.
I understood we needed to be in a separate room for now. I wouldn’t want to have sex while a photo of an ex-boyfriend hung over the bed. But now that we were free, there were no inhibitions.
This wasn’t like the first time, where a sense of taboo made it possible. This wasn’t like the ensuing week or so, where it felt like we were negotiating the most fun business transaction of our lives. This was nothing other than the mere connection that we had, but there was nothing “mere” about it.
It felt genuine. It felt real. And Satan—damn, again, Sam!—was right.
I had quit the job in the name of truth. And in the sense that that truth was for the Devil’s Patriots, I guess you could say I quit the job for the Devil’s Patriots.
No, not the Devil’s Patriots. For him.
For Sam.
We moved off the wall and hurried into the same room where we’d first made love. You couldn’t have noticed if even a flea had been in the room. It looked absolutely spotless.
“Much cleaner than your bedroom.”
“Yeah, well, I like to be clean. I just don’t clean my bedroom because no one else is in there. Usually.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond because Satan’s lips and teeth caught my neck while his hands moved under my shirt and over the soft, sensitive skin of my stomach. Oh, everything felt warm and rushed! Every goosebump there was stood up on my body; every hormone of arousal that could have been released was. Everything about me was sex, Sam, and everything in between.
I was perfectly content to just stand there and let Satan work his magic. At first, his hands moved up my shirt, found my breasts, and squeezed while he kissed. But that wasn’t enough—thank goodness it wasn’t—because his right hand moved back down, down my pants and underwear, found my pussy, and fingered inside.
I tossed my head back even further, groaning as I rested it on his shoulder. His other hand unbuckled me and dropped my pants to the ground, letting me breathe free down there while he went to work. My hand reached back to try and grab his cock, give some strokes, but I was in no place to concentrate on him. Sam was fucking working me over, and I could already feel the first orgasm of the night—perhaps even the session—approaching.
He pushed me toward the bed as I stepped out of my pants and socks. He landed me face down, my top still on, as his fingers dug deeper and deeper inside. I managed to get my clothes off and me naked, but I didn’t do anything else other than claw at the bedsheets. Sure enough, just barely within a minute, I was screaming, gasping, and breathing hard as my body pulsed with the sensation of Sam’s fingers being enough to get me to orgasm as hard as anything we’d had in our time together.
Maybe the time off from when the broadcast aired to now had been enough to recharge my orgasms? Who knew? Who cared? Fuck, it felt so good.
I rolled over, sure that my hair and makeup were a hot fucking mess, and not caring in the slightest. If anything, it probably aroused Satan.
“We seem to have a discrepancy in clothes on,” I said as I shuffled forward on the bed and came to his pants.
“Yeah, but you look better naked,” he said.
“Is that so?” I said as I unbuckled his belt and worked on his pants. “You’ll forgive me if I have a difference of opinion here.”
“I dunno, I—oh, fuck.”
I cut him off by sliding my tongue over the shaft of his dick. I was in no mood to go slow. I wrapped my lips around him, put one hand on his shaft, the other on the base of his balls, and went to work.
