Samson's Lovely Mortal by Tina Folsom Page A

and joined her in her climax.
    His semen shot into her in short bursts, mimicking Ilona’s spasms. Seconds later he collapsed onto her.
    “And don’t you ever try to order me around again.” Truth be told, he welcomed any excuse to spank her—it got him hornier than hell.
    “As long as it gets me what I want …”
    “Let’s not kid ourselves, Ilona. Neither one of us will ever get what we want.”
    She huffed. “Like you have any idea what I want.”
    “You are not that different from me, even if you don’t want to admit it. But if you believe that you can fill your empty heart with money, power and meaningless sex, you’re more delusional than I am. It’s not going to warm your cold heart. You can ask me. I’m an expert at it.”
    He sure was. Amaury closed his eyes to the pain he remembered, then swallowed it away. Cursed to sense other people’s emotions, he was devoid of feeling love himself. Loyalty, friendship, anger, even guilt, pain and lust—he had no trouble feeling. But love? There was no place in his shriveled up heart for it.
    “You’re wrong. Money and power will get me a long way to where I want to be.”
    Amaury rolled off her and shrugged. “If you want to delude yourself, be my guest. It doesn’t change anything about the facts.”
    She turned her face to him. “Do you really believe I give a damn about what you think?”
    He let out a bear laugh. “Of course not. All you give a damn about is my cock. I’m not the one who’s delusional.”
    She slapped at him, but he caught her arm without effort.
    “Looks like somebody needs another spanking.” And another quick fuck.
    Amaury looked at his watch. He could spare another twenty minutes before he had to do some work.
    ***
    When the final curtain at last fell and the clapping subsided, Samson looked at his gorgeous date.
    “Are you trying to cause a disturbance in the audience?” he teased her.
    “Now, how would I do that?” Delilah asked innocently, her big eyes looking up at him.
    “Looking at me like that is a start.” If she continued like that he’d drag her behind a curtain and take her right there.
    She shook her head. “No, let’s just keep the record straight. You started it.”
    “You didn’t stop me.”
    “I’m just a weak woman.”
    He laughed heartily, drawing the attention of several theatergoers onto him. “Oh, a woman you are. Weak, you’re definitely not. I bet you can bring any man to his knees.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    “I’m a living example of the power you have over men.” He moved his head much closer to hers.
    “Shall we get out of here before you cause some sort of disturbance?” Her giggles were refreshing.
    He laughed and pulled her out of her seat. “Where do you want to go?”
    “How about we’ll just go with your plans? You did have something else planned, didn’t you?”
    Undressing her in the next dark corner was the plan.
    “What if you don’t like what I’ve planned?” He was enjoying teasing her.
    “Try me.”
    As in taste? In a heartbeat.
    Samson licked his lower lip. There was a hell of a lot of things he wanted to try, and tasting her was just the beginning. “I think I will. No. Scratch that. I know I will.”
    With his arm around her waist, he led her to the stairway. The theater had almost emptied, and they were the last ones to walk down the broad staircase leading to one of the side exits. The sound her high heels made on the stairs echoed through the air.
    They were alone. He could press her against the wall and take her right there in the stairwell. Her moans would echo through the empty space, bounce off the walls, the sound amplified. But it would be over too soon. No, he had to distract himself and get her to his house where he could keep her all night.
    “Why do women torture themselves and wear high heels like that?” Samson was certain his voice was colored with pure lust.
    “Because women don’t like to be short.”
    He chuckled.