Final chapter, y'all! I hope you enjoy it (it's a bit spicier)!
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When Charles got back from the fencing club, he went to his shower as quickly as he could, hoping to talk with Samara before she went to bed. She'd told him it was fine to call her whenever he was finished, but he didn't want to risk waking her if it was too late.
He usually finished lessons by eight, although sometimes Eva came by after his last student to try and provoke him into a match－which is exactly what she'd done tonight. She was the type to never let up once she fixated on something-an admirable quality, in truth, but Charles found it highly annoying tonight. He never liked it when she called him "Chuck," and tonight he found it particularly infuriating. His annoyance seemed to inspire his victory over her, though, and that had felt good in the moment. Then, Eva had asked if he wanted company tonight, to which he'd replied, "No, thank you, Miss Lawson. I think any time we spend together from here on out should be here." After that, he turned on his heel and walked out.
He hurriedly dried himself off after he was clean, and then stepped into a clean set of pajamas before picking up his phone (sighing angrily－he couldn't help it whenever he saw the pink color). Sitting on the edge of his bed, Charles typed out a text:
Are you still awake, Samara? I do apologize for the lateness－there were some hold-ups at the club.
He sent it and waited. It had been hard for him to concentrate when he first got to the club that evening, still thinking about the taste of Samara's lips and the scent she'd worn. And that bow. Damn that bow, he thought with a heavy sigh, trying to picture it.
His phone went off, jolting him out of his thoughts and he snatched it back up into his hands. Samara responded: Of course! Hope your lessons went well!
I'm blessed to have gifted students, he wrote back. They're good listeners, and that makes them keen learners. May I call you?
He watched the little icon that let him know she was typing, and her response was quick: Please do.
Pressing the call icon, he pressed the phone receiver to his ear and waited. She picked up on the second ring, "Hey there."
"Hello, Samara. How was your evening?" Charles asked smoothly.
"It was good," she answered. "I walked Bowser, ordered dinner, did a bit of gaming, and did some work on Evermake."
"Making good progress, I hope."
"Little by little," she affirmed cheerfully. "So you said you got held up at the club? You didn't earn any more bruises that I'd have to treat, did you?"
Charles chuckled, "As much as I'd love to have you be my nurse, I thankfully didn't sustain any injuries tonight: I won the bout."
"Well, that's good at least."
"Yes, I was eager to get home－my impatience served me well," he told her, not able to stop his smile.
He heard her laugh slightly on the other end, and he could tell she was laying in bed. "You caught me just as I was getting into bed," she confessed. "I had just slipped into one of my new purchases."
Charles fell back onto his pillows, feeling himself grin stupidly, "Oh really?"
"Mhmm…"
"I'd ask for a picture, but that would be ungentlemanly of me－and as you know, I am nothing if not a gentleman."
"Oh, yes－that would indeed be ungentlemanly," she teased. "You'll just have to wait until Wednesday, I suppose."
You little minx, he thought devilishly. "Oh, you vex me, Samara," he murmured to her, shaking his head. "I'll be counting the minutes till then."
He heard the rustle of sheets as she changed positions. "I'll be doing the same. Till then, all I can do is tend to myself…"
Charles closed his eyes, wishing he could see her face when she'd said that. He could picture her face flushed, grinning shyly and trying to hide behind her pillow or sheets. He murmured, shaking his head again, "Oh now you're just being cruel－but I'm glad to know you've taken me up on my suggestion from Saturday night."
"Mmhm," Samara said softly. "I spent the better part of yesterday evening doing just that."
"Ah, I wish I'd called you," he said, more mental images of Samara came to mind (all of them ungentlemanly). "I confess, I'd wondered why I didn't hear from you yesterday－but it appears you were busy."
"Very," she told him. "I went all over shopping for clothes, then to the salon… and then to one last specialty store."
"A specialty store, hm?" he asked curiously.
"Oh yes－but a gentleman such as yourself wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."
"M-Miss Young!" he exclaimed, scandalized, "are you telling me…? W-What did you buy?" Charles never expected Samara to go into a sex shop－he'd never been in one himself (outside of online shopping, that is). His face flushed, and he ran his fingers through his bangs.
"Nothing for you," she told him. "Just a little something I'll use once we hang up."
Charles' mind was reeling, and he couldn't stop his questions (or attempts to ask them), "S-So it's… i-it's a－?"
"Something my friends told me about. It's called a Ladykiller. Its function is… unique."
"O-Oh? How s-so?" Charles couldn't stop stammering. The idea that Samara would go into a sex shop, buy something, and then proceed to use it had absolutely blindsided him (among other things).
"Oh, I couldn't explain that without compromising your gentleman status, now could I?"
He almost whimpered. Instead, he bit his lip, closing his eyes, "You make it hard to maintain it, Samara. I'd better go before it's in shambles."
Samara murmured sadly, "I never meant to make you leave. I hope you're not annoyed with me, Mr. Jones."
"Just the opposite, Samara. As far away as the opposite can be. You have me wanting to drive over and be your audience－though I can't promise I could simply watch for very long," he said, grinning broadly.
"There might be room for audience participation," she offered.
"Then I look forward to your next performance, but I should let you go tonight before you turn me into a wolf, bunty," he told her.
"You've always been a wolf, Charles," Samara laughed. "Goodnight, sleep well."
"And you as well, Samara. I'll see you tomorrow."
Charles ended the call and immediately opened his phone's browser, typing Ladykiller, sex toy into the search engine. When the results came up and he saw what the device looked like, reading the specs, he murmured to himself, impressed, "My, my… that is unique." He exhaled heavily closing his eyes, "Mae hi'n mynd i fod yn ddiwedd i mi."
His phone went off again, a text message alert: Oops, my finger slipped… And a picture of only Samara's legs popped up in their texts. She was still laying in bed, but he could see the bottom hem of the chemise she wore－a sheer purple－and the skimpy black lace panties she had on underneath. Her legs looked so smooth, and Charles couldn't help but think about dragging those little panties down them with his teeth.
He replied: Oh, now you've done it. I'll be thinking about that all night… Her only response to that was a simple winking emoticon.
Then Charles remembered Wednesday was the day after tomorrow, and he glowered at his ceiling.
"Fuck."
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Sam turned over in bed, burying her face in her pillow. Did I really say all that just now?! Did I really do that? She was shaking, but at the same time she couldn't stop smiling to herself. Charles had sounded so shocked about her specialty purchase, though she couldn't blame him, really. It surprised her, too. But she found his stammering… adorable. The fact she could reduce him to fumbling over his words the same way she usually did made her giggle.
She rolled over to her nightstand and looked at the device they'd discussed, biting her lip. Her mind went back to the kiss they'd shared in the car earlier that day, and the one he'd given her when they arrived at her apartment building. His hands were so large they could meet when touching either side of her waist, and at one point he nearly felt up her thigh, underneath her skirt…
Sam snatched the Ladykiller off her nightstand, starting it up and mentally planning her outfit for tomorrow.
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When Wednesday morning finally came, Sam took a deep breath and let it out when she stared at herself in the mirror. If things went well tonight… things would be different between her and Charles. For better or for worse－but she was ready.
Last night she'd wanted him to come over－and he was eager to do so－but right as they pulled into a parking spot at her apartment building, Charles got a frantic call from his mother. She needed his help with something, and while he apologized to Sam profusely, she urged him to do whatever he could for her. "Besides, I need to take Bowser out for a walk anyway," she told him.
It didn't stop them from kissing goodbye for several minutes. This time, Charles' hand did go up her skirt a little, and Sam could tell he was feeling her stockings. When his fingers reached the garter clasp, he moaned into her mouth. "My God," he breathed, his voice hoarse.
"I'll see you tomorrow night, Charles," she'd said against his mouth before getting out of the car.
Sam took another deep breath, and headed out the door to her appointment.
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Charles waited for Samara in her office, anxious to find out how things went at the doctor. He sat at the table, going over a few emails on his lap top. He'd woken up nervous this morning, something he hadn't expected. He couldn't recall another time recently when he'd been this antsy－but he knew why. This was Samara－his boss' daughter, his assistant, probably the sweetest woman he'd ever known… She was special, he realized. She was special, and he wanted her. He wanted her badly. There were a lot of things riding on tonight, and it could either be the start of something wonderful… or a giant, disastrous mistake. But even if it did end up a mistake, it was one he just had to make.
"Oh, hey Charles," Samara greeted cheerfully.
Charles looked up from his laptop, giving her a soft smile, "Good morning, Miss Young." She was wearing a black dress today, similar to the ivory one she'd worn on Monday.
Samara sat across from him, setting her bag down next to her, "Was there something you wanted to discuss?"
He shook his head, "No－well, yes, but not business-related." He cleared his throat, "Your appointment…? It went well this morning?"
Samara nodded, "Yes, sir."
"Good," he said, relieved. "Good. And-And if you need to stop by the pharmacy at some point today, you could of course－"
She shook her head, "That won't be necessary." Leaning forward, she whispered to him, "I got the shot. Much easier than taking a pill every day."
Charles nodded, clearing his throat again, "Of course. I-I know we said tonight, but I meant what I said about wanting to keep the moment somewhat spontaneous. It's okay if… if things don't… happen tonight. I don't want you to feel pressured." He kept his voice low.
Samara touched his arm, "I know. I don't." Her eyes were sweet, warm, sincere, "I want this, Charles. I'm ready. And I want you."
Charles smiled gently, "Alright then."
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Sam fluffed the pillows on her couch, scanning her apartment for anything that needed to be touched up. She had Ms. Whipple take in Bowser for the evening, no doubt they'd spend the evening eating popcorn and watching crime dramas together.
She'd told Charles that she'd like to take the bus home and get a few things ready before he arrived. Reluctantly, he agreed, saying he'd come by a little later in the evening. Sam was baking some of her mother's special cinnamon rolls. She'd prepared the dough the night before, letting it sit until she got home from work. They would be crisp on the outside yet fluffy and soft on the inside, and mouthwateringly sweet. The cream cheese glaze she'd made for them was flavored with a bit of orange zest and juice. That was Sam's own tweak to her mother's original recipe. If she got the timing just right, the rolls would be coming out of the oven just as Charles arrived.
She was still in the dress she'd worn to work this morning, but she'd put on the stockings from yesterday. The reaction they got from Charles excited her, and she liked knowing she could excite him like that.
Sam washed her hands and smoothed the skirt of her dress, wondering if she should light some candles or something－but just then there was a gentle knock at her door. Smiling, she went to open it, and found Charles standing there, dressed casually again with a small bag.
"Good evening, Samara," he greeted.
"Hey there," she replied, stepping aside for him. "Come on in."
Charles entered and looked over her outfit, "You look lovely. I wish I'd stayed in my suit－I wouldn't look so drab in your presence."
She gave him a playful admonishing look, "Oh, please. You look great in whatever you wear, Charles. You keep that up, and I'll have you start doing self-love exercises for me."
He chuckled, setting the bag he'd been carrying on the counter, "Very well." He took a curious whiff, "Something smells divine－what are you making?"
The timer to the oven went off right as he finished his question, and Sam smiled to herself as she went to retrieve the baking dish. "It's my mother's Sweet n' Sinful Cinnamon Rolls, though I modified the recipe ever so slightly." She set the steaming pan on the hot pad nearby, her apartment filling with sugary orange sweetness. From the stove, she picked up the pot she'd been heating the glaze in and poured it over the rolls.
Charles looked starved as he stared at them, "My goodness those look delicious, Samara. What did you call them? Sweet and Sinful?"
She nodded, "Yes－and they are indeed."
"I can think of a couple of other things that are sweet and sinful, too," he flirted, watching her plate a roll for him. The glaze dribbled over the sides of it, pooling on the small dessert plate.
"I'm sure you can," Sam said, grinning as she plated one for herself. "Would you like a fo－?" When she looked at him, he was already eating it with his hand. She giggled at him, "Is it good?"
Charles closed his eyes, "Samara… it's like eating a cloud. Mmph…" He took a huge bite and sighed contentedly.
Sam had never seen Charles so ravenous about food before, and it made her wonder if it was true what her mother had told her many years ago: the way to a man's heart－any man's heart－was through his stomach. Either way, she was overjoyed that he liked it, "Well, there's plenty here."
He swallowed, "I'd better stick to the one－I could eat that whole tin." Charles looked around on the ground, "Where's your pup?"
Sam waved a hand, grabbing and lightly wetting a couple of napkins at the sink before she took them and her roll to her coffee table, "Oh, I let my landlady look after him this evening. She loves getting to watch TV with him."
"I see," Charles said, nodding as he joined her on her couch, still eating his roll.
Sam nodded at the bag on the counter, taking a bite of her dessert with a fork, "So, is that a present for me?"
Charles swallowed, looking from the bag back to her, "In a sense…" His cheeks were pink. Sam lifted a curious eyebrow, beckoning him to tell more. He chuckled, licking his lips, "I'll tell you when I'm not such a mess." He picked up one of the moistened napkins and began wiping his fingers.
Sam set down her plate and caught his wrist, bringing his hand to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around his index finger, sucking it clean. Charles' face was dumbfounded for a moment, but then he quickly cleaned his remaining fingers, lunging for her when he was finished. Sam went to straddle his lap, and he held her around the waist. "Samara," he breathed, his mouth finding her neck.
Sam gasped softly, leaning to let him have access. Her fingers ran over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin, brown shirt. Lust filled her and made a tremendous ache within her, somewhere deep, and she lowered her hips over him. Charles' hands formed over her hips, trailing down her thighs, feeling how the skirt of her dress bunched up to reveal her stockings and garters. He moaned softly, running his fingers up under the hem. Sam loved the feeling of his large hands on her, and she directed one of them to cup her breast.
The wordless permission seemed to excite him, as his other hand came rushing to the other breast. They squeezed in unison, slow and deliberate. Sam let out a little cry of pleasure, her head lolling backward. Charles' hands were large, yes, but Sam's breasts were larger still, it seemed. She sighed against his neck, feeling her nipples harden. Her fingers ran through his hair as he started nibbling on her earlobe. "Charles," she whispered breathlessly. "Charles, please… I want you."
His mouth found hers again, kissing her hungrily. "I want you, too," he told her huskily. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to her bed.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Hawaii, approximately 5:48 pm…
Samuel Young held his wife's hand, sighing contentedly as they strolled along the beach. Every time he looked at her, it was as if she sparkled like a gem. Nothing could ruin the feeling of being with her, nothing could－
He stopped in his tracks.
A prickle went up his spine…
"Honey?" Samantha Young asked, tilting her head. "What's wrong?" She petted his forearm as he looked about the beach in distress.
Mr. Young shook his head, but kept his eyes vigilant, looking out into the eastern ocean, back towards the states. "I sense… a disturbance."
Sam's Apartment, approximately 8:48pm…
Sam trembled in Charles' arms, but she helped him take off his shirt. He sat her on the edge of her bed, kneeling to help her take off her shoes. His fingers were so nimble and gentle as they undid the little buckles and slipped them off, his hands roaming upward to slide off her stockings one by one. When she stood again, she felt his hand go up her back to the zipper of her dress. He paused, and she caught the question in his eyes. She nodded firmly, and Charles held the zipper, dragging it down as far as it would go.
Sam shimmied out of the garment, pulling it over her head. Charles helped her toss it to the side. His electric blue eyes greedily darted over her figure, taking in her vintage-inspired black and white lingerie. Sam slipped off the garter belt, leaving herself in just the bra and panties. She stepped forward, her face burning but unflinching, and unbuttoned his corduroys, never leaving his gaze. Her fingers found the zipper, and she slowly brought it down. She could swear she felt him tremble when her knuckles brushed the warmth inside.
Before she could push the pants down off him, he reached into the pocket and pulled out several small packets. Sam, realizing what they were, blushed a deeper red, and she pulled his face down to kiss her lips again. Charles set them on her nightstand, gently urging her to her bed. She sat, and brought her hands to the clasp of her bra. When it came undone and she let it fall away from her body, she saw Charles swallow. Hard.
"You're so beautiful, Samara," he said softly. She looked up at him shyly, and he turned his head towards the kitchen, "T-The bag I brought…"
"Yes?" Sam asked curiously.
"It-It's a bottle of lubricant." He looked back at her.
She blushed heavily now, "Th-That may not be necessary."
Charles lifted his eyebrows in surprise, "Oh?" He swallowed again.
Sam nodded, "Come here." Her hands reached out to him, and Charles slipped off his pants, crawling over her. He was only wearing his boxer briefs now, and it was very apparent what kind of effect Sam had on him. They kissed again, wildly and hungrily. Charles' hands were all over her, and he found her breasts again, making her gasp. He gently teased her nipples and she mewled, squirming under him. His mouth kissed his way down to them, and when his tongue flicked over one of the sensitive buds she arched her back, gasping even louder. He teased her breasts for several minutes, until she couldn't take it anymore. She was squirming with delight and excitement.
Charles' fingers hooked themselves under the band of her lace panties, and he looked at her again. Another question in his eyes. Again, Sam nodded. He pulled at the garment slowly, and Sam's face was burgundy when she saw how the apex of the panties clung to her center. Charles noticed that as well, and a hungry fog of lust filled his eyes… that was, until he pulled them off and saw she'd been waxed nearly bare. "S-Samara," he breathed, his eyes wide and his face turning all different shades of pink and red.
"Like I said," she told him, shrugging shyly, "this is a two-way street."
Charles nodded, "And you meant it." He bent down to kiss her, "Now let me make good on my side…" He took off his underwear, and Sam caught a peek of his length before he rolled a condom over it－he was big… bigger than she thought he'd be, even－and for a moment she wondered if they really would need that lubricant. But he came back to her kissing up from her navel, between her breasts, and then her neck. "Are you ready?" he whispered to her, his breath hot against her ear.
Sam nodded, putting her hands on his shoulders, "Yes." She kissed his jawline, her teeth gently nipping at his earlobe, "Hurry…"
She could feel the weight of his length on her mound, warm and thick, rhythmically running up and down her folds. She moved against him, pushing up into him. "That's it," Charles sighed passionately. "Oh, that's it, bunty… Just like that…"
He slipped inside her, and Sam gasped sharply, her eyes going wide.
Charles froze in place, "Did I hurt you?"
"No!" Sam said urgently, her hips continued to move. "Not at all, please keep going…" Her hands cupped his face, bringing his mouth to hers.
Charles kissed her back, slipping his tongue in her mouth as he moved inside her. He moaned, and Sam felt herself tighten around his length, pulling him further in. Her legs raised off the bed, locking around his waist to keep his body close.
"Samara," he breathed, closing his eyes.
She cradled his head to her breast, her fingers messing up his perfectly gelled hair. "More," she cried softly. "Oh god… more…"
The bed started to squeak as Charles' thrusts gradually got faster, the two of them gasping in time with each motion. Sam's hands shakily explored his back, feeling his working muscles. She was trying not to scratch him, but it felt so good.
Seeming to realize what her struggle was, Charles panted in her ear, "It's alright, bunty. You can scratch－I like that."
Just as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, Sam cried out and proceeded to rake her nails down his back, making him utter a satisfied moan into her shoulder. "R-Right there!" Sam gasped, her eyes squeezing shut. "Oh my god, oh my god," she breathed, trembling.
He found the angle again, and kept at it. Sam cried out. Every thrust sent her cries higher and closer together. The closer she got, the more she seemed to tremble. "Let go, Samara," he urged her, going harder. "Come on, bunty－let it go… let me feel you…" He buried his face in her shoulder again, apparently close himself.
Sam gasped, her muscles getting tense, and she clung to him desperately. "H-Harder," she squeaked. "God, Charles－harder!" He obliged her, and the headboard started smacking the wall. Sam was shaking now, and her cries were getting louder. "Ch-Charles, you're going to make me scream," she squeaked. "C-Cover my mou－OH~!"
Charles clamped his hand over her mouth just as she shouted her release. Sam's eyes rolled into the back of her head, feeling herself radiate with warm, fluttering pleasure all over his length. She could feel Charles' hips stuttering into hers, telling her he was right along with her. He was gasping into the pillow behind her, muffling his cries.
When he rose, Charles slowly took his hand off her mouth, Sam nodding it was okay. He kissed her tenderly, breathing heavily through his nose. "Are you alright?" he asked when he parted from her. "You're shaking."
It was true. She looked at her hands and then shrugged, "I-I'm okay."
"Do you need your inhaler?" He gently brushed her bangs away from her face.
Sam nodded, "I think so." She reached for it on the nightstand, and Charles helped put it into her hand. She shook it and took a big dose, letting herself breathe. She grinned, "My ears are ringing… is that normal?"
Charles laughed, "I think so. I'll take that as a compliment."
She bit her lip, her free hand tracing a line on his chest, "Was I…?"
He kissed her deeply, one of his hands cupping her cheek, "Dduwies, you were far better than anything I imagined. Truly." He pulled out of her and carefully disposed of the condom in the wastebasket beside her bed, then settled next to her so she could breathe more freely.
Somewhere in Hawaii, half-past 7pm
Samuel Young strolled into the hotel lobby casually, trying not to look distressed to the other people busily flitting around. His wife had hidden his phone from him (probably with good reason), but he couldn't shake the feeling he'd gotten earlier, and it had brought him to the front desk.
He approached the clerk and smiled cheerfully, "Good evening－would it by any chance be too much trouble to use the phone?"
The woman running the desk, shook her head, returning the smile, "Not at all, sir. Please, help yourself." She picked up the desk phone and set it before him. He nodded gratefully and began calling his daughter's cell phone number. It was late, and she was likely already in bed, but it couldn't hurt to try it once. When she didn't pick up, he called Jones' number, ready to strike with the third degree if the Suave Welsh Bastard answered. Again, no answer.
But Samuel had one last ace in his sleeve. He knew one employee of his who stayed up late watching reality dating shows: he called Lucy.
She picked up right away, and as calmly as he could, Samuel said, "Good evening, Lucy－I'm terribly sorry to call so late, but if you could, would you run the 5P Protocol app to find Samara's location for me?" Lucy of course said yes, and it took a moment for her to boot it up, but she confirmed for Samuel that his daughter was safe and sound in her apartment. He was somewhat relieved by that fact, but it still didn't make the suspicion go away. "That's good to know, Lucy. Now, did you happen to install the SWB app as instructed on Charles' new phone? If so, it shouldn't show up on his list of apps at all… Good. Thank you－yes, I would like you to boot it up, please." Samuel stood there, part of him ready to erupt with rage if his intuition turned out to be true. Lucy made a soft gasp. "What is it, Lucy?... You tell me, now."She spoke, and Samuel felt something inside his head snap. "I see… wonder why he's there so late. That will be all, Lucy, thank you. Goodnight."
Samuel ended the call with a little more anger than he intended－it wasn't poor Lucy's fault, after all－but he squeezed the phone receiver so hard that it crunched in his hand. The desk clerk sheepishly took the phone back in pieces, too afraid to say anything as Samuel stalked away to rejoin his wife.
He. Is. FIRED.
Samara's Apartment, almost 11pm
"Tell me a riddle," Samara demanded, turning to Charles in bed.
Charles chuckled, "A riddle? Why?"
She shrugged, "You said you loved them, and I bet you know a bunch of good ones."
He rolled over on his side towards her, "That I do. Alright then, Samara. I'll start simple: what word starts with E and ends with E, but only has one letter in it?"
"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully, her sweet brown eyes seeming to search her ceiling for the answer. "Oh, it must be an envelope."
"You're right," he confirmed. "But that was an easy one. What about… 'No sooner spoken than broken.' What is it?"
"Pfft－silence," she said, not even having to think about it. "C'mon, stop going easy on me."
Charles chuckled again, "Alright, alright… How about this one: I have four keys, but no locks. I have space, but no room. You can enter, but can't go inside. What am I?"
This one seemed to stump her for a bit, she repeated the lines to herself a few times. "Ah!" she said, realizing. "A keyboard. I should have known that one."
He pulled her close, "Correct." He kissed her shoulder, "Do you know any riddles yourself?"
She giggled, squirming from how his breath tickled her neck, "A few."
"Tell me one," he said, his mouth running along her collarbone.
"A-Alright… what has teeth but can't bite?"
Charles nibbled at her pulse, "Mm, a comb." He rose from her, "Another?"
Samara bit her lip, looking thoughtful, "What flies but has no wings?"
He smiled into the other side of her neck, "Time. I like that one. Any more?"
"Only one I can think of when you're tickling me like that," she murmured. Her hands came around his shoulders, and quietly she said, "What's white when it's dirty?"
Charles grinned, nibbling up her sensitive neck again, "A chalkboard. Or…" He trailed off, moving his lips to her ear, "You."
Samara gasped, shocked, and she playfully swatted him, laughing, "Charles Jones! I thought you were a gentleman!"
He chuckled and moved on top of her, pressing his forehead to hers, "I am, bunty. But you've woken the wolf in me." He kissed her deeply, tasting her warm, shy tongue, "Care to go for another round?"
"God, yes," she breathed against his lips.
Charles hummed agreeably, his mouth going to her ear, "Would you like to try a new position?"
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Charles dropped Sam off at the coffee shop the next morning, but not before kissing her goodbye. It was several minutes before they finally broke from each other. His hands had been all over her, and hers all over him, feeling his chest and the heat of his skin. "Mmn," Charles murmured, slightly breathless, "we'd better stop before we get worked up again."
Sam nibbled on his bottom lip, making him groan softly, "You should have thought about that before you put your hands all over me, Mr. Jones." She ran a finger up his jawline to his chin. "See you at the office?"
He nodded, "Certainly. Will you let me drive you home this evening?"
"Of course," she agreed, giving him one last peck before getting out of his car.
They'd left her apartment fairly early so that Charles could go back to his place and get ready for work, so Sam had a little time to kill when she got her coffee. Smoothing her skirt, she walked inside. Today she was wearing a bright cerulean skirt with her black silk top, the sleeves rolled up and several buttons undone. Her hair was down, but parted slightly farther over than usual, and it made her angled bob a little more chic.
When she walked through the door, she noticed Link and Dee immediately trying to look busy, and Sam blushed. Oops… I think they saw us.
"Sam!" she heard a familiar voice exclaim. "You're here so early!"
She turned and saw Angela with Vikki, waving at her from the couches eagerly. Sam waved back, "Yeah, I got up a bit early this morning. Let me get my coffee." She'd told them Charles was coming over on Wednesday, and that it might be "the night," but she hadn't texted them since then. She was sure they'd be dying of curiosity.
"Hey Dee," Sam greeted cheerfully. "Can I get my usual?"
Dee nodded, "Absolutely." She turned to Link, who was pretending to clean one of the coffee machines, "You got it, Link?"
Sam saw his ears burn, but he didn't turn around, "Yep－right away!"
Dee turned back to Sam, smirking knowingly at her, "So… who was that guy in the nice car?"
Sam's cheeks turned pink, "That's Charles."
Her eyes got wide and she gasped, "As in your boss Charles?"
She nodded, biting her lip and looking down, trying to hide the grin creeping itself across her face.
"Well, well, well," Dee said, shaking her head. "Whatever it is you're doing－it looks good on you, girl."
"Thanks, Dee," Sam said, meaning it.
Link approached the counter as she paid, the travel mug of coffee steaming. "Here you go, Sam," he said, his face red.
"Thank you!" She looked at him, tilting her head, "You doing okay?"
He coughed and nodded, "I'm great, Sam. Thanks for asking."
She smiled warmly, giving a kind of air-toast to them with her coffee mug, and then turned to join Angela and Vikki. As she walked away, she heard Dee talking to Link, catching the words, "...big time." Shrugging, she sat on the couch, next to Vikki.
Angela leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes boring into Sam's face, "Sooo… you gonna tell us why Charles dropped you off here so early?"
Vikki poked Sam in the side playfully, "Did he spend the night?"
"C'mon Sam－spill!"
Sam's face pinkened, but she met their eyes and then eagerly nodded.
They both gasped in unison, their faces gleeful and surprised. "Tell us everything!" Angela demanded, clapping her hands together.
Sam smirked into the lip of her coffee cup, "It was amazing."
"Was he nice to you?" Vikki asked.
"He was a gentleman," Sam assured her, but her face reddened even more. Mostly, she thought to herself mischievously.
Angela rested her chin on her hand, staring at Sam with a genuine smile, "You gonna tell us more than that?"
Sam crossed her legs, taking a long sip of her coffee, smiling thoughtfully as she stared off at the wall, thinking about her night with Charles.
"No," she said finally. "No, I don't think I will."
SC SC SC SC SC SC SC
"Hurry…"
The memory still made Charles shiver with delight. Samara being so eager for him last night, and at the same time so sweet and sincere… he was beyond endeared by her. Other women made sex a performance with him, every gasp and moan artificial and hollow. But Samara experienced the pleasure so freely, gave herself to it, gave herself to him… and he gave himself right back.
He looked at the parcel of leftover cinnamon rolls she'd left for him in the passenger seat, smiling at them as he drove. Sweet and sinful, indeed. That was also how he'd describe Samara herself last night. One thing he hadn't anticipated was how… resilient she would be. Charles had only brought three condoms for them to use last night, thinking she would get tired eventually, but much to his surprise, that had most assuredly not been the case. He should have brought a whole box with how energetic and enthusiastic she was with him.
He found other ways to satisfy her when they ran out of condoms. He showed her just how nimble and controlled a pianist's fingers could be－and when he saw how wet and engorged her center had become, he couldn't help but dip beneath the sheets and taste her. He still could, even now.
And when Samara reached under the sheets for him, her experimenting fingers massaging him with shy curiosity, it drove him wild. The pleasure he shared with her was unlike anything he'd experienced with anyone before, and he treasured it.
Samara had shyly thanked him for last night, but he kissed her fingers and shook his head. "It was a privilege, bunty," he'd told her. "Thank you."
SC SC SC SC SC SC SC
In the days that followed, Charles stole all the moments he could with Samara. Thursday, he went over to her place again. They ordered dinner and then spent almost all night in her bed. The next morning, Charles hopped in the shower with her, "helping" her get clean. When they came into the office together, they hardly noticed the curious looks they were getting from the others, or even notice how Umed grumbled, slyly sliding a twenty dollar bill to Lucy, who happily took it and looked pleased with herself.
Friday night was Samara's raid, and Charles didn't want her friends to worry about her again, so he couldn't join her in her apartment. Instead, he called her late after she'd finished, and they had phone sex. It hadn't started out that way－he was originally calling just to talk to her before bed, but the conversation just… drifted. The sound of her needy, breathy little noises over the phone made him bite his lip whenever he thought about that night; and when he told her he was close, that he wanted to be inside her, what Samara said next had his mind spinning. "Do it," her soft, sweet voice had panted to him, on the edge of her release as well, "I want to feel you do it inside me…"
Saturday, he met up with her at the dog park, and they spent a large portion of their afternoon playing with Bowser. The pup seemed to really enjoy his company, and Charles found himself glad for it. He gave them a ride back to her apartment, and walked the pair to her door, where he hungrily kissed her goodbye, cursing the fencing lessons he had to give. He'd pressed her into her door, Bowser yapping happily as he watched them kiss, running around their legs. Their legs were wrapped in his leash, and when Ben came out of his apartment next door, it startled them both so badly they nearly stumbled to the floor, laughing. Charles carefully disentangled them from the leash while nodding at Ben, "Hello there, Ben."
"Charles," he'd said in response, his face curiously crimson. He seemed in a hurry to leave them, having nearly jogged to the stairs at the end of the hall.
Saturday night, Charles called Samara again, and they laughed about something a student of his had done. She told him all about her progress with Evermake, and then about a puzzle game she thought he'd enjoy. They'd fallen asleep talking that night.
Sunday was busy for him, as he had to run errands all day. He missed her, thinking about her smile and enthusiasm fondly. She'd spent the day with her friends, and he wondered if she was thinking about him, too.
When Monday morning came, Charles brought Sam with him to a client meeting. She was calm and polite－not even stumbling over her words, he noticed. He loved seeing how she'd blossomed into a more confident, motivated woman over time. After the meeting concluded and they were riding in his car, he asked her if she'd like to go back to his place. "What about 'the company dime'?" she'd asked, grinning over at him.
He'd just shrugged, "Let's just say the meeting ran long."
When they got to his place, he couldn't keep his hands off her, not even in the elevator. Their clothes came off haphazardly, thrown to the floor in a rush of hasty kisses and groping fingers. Charles usually liked to tease and torment a woman until she was frustrated, but the sweet sincerity of Samara's begging was too much for him－he dared not deny her a thing. "Hurry," she'd whispered to him again. "Hurry…" They must have spent over two hours on his couch, completely naked with the afternoon light streaming through his wall of windows－they weren't patient enough to climb all the stairs to his bedroom－and he urged Samara to be as vocal as she wanted.
"You can scream, bunty," he'd panted in her ear while he reached between her legs from behind. The two of them knelt on his couch, naked, with Samara's back leaning into his chest. Charles stroked her clit rudely, pushing his length up into her, deep and slow. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, trembling in his sweaty arms. He could feel her holding back, trying not to cry out. "Let me hear you, bunty," he'd said, rolling her sensitive bud around his fingers. It didn't take her long. When she came, her delighted screams and satisfied mewling echoed against his apartment walls, spurring him to finish with her. As the warmth of the afterglow began to fade, Samara snatched his head down to kiss her lips, and he'd never tasted a sweeter moment.
That was, until the next morning when she came to work in the red dress. The red dress… The red dress, the stockings, the shoes, the lipstick… It drove him mad all day. And when the time came for him to take her home, he'd driven to a secluded spot in the parking garage of their office building where they had sex in his car. He didn't wear a condom that time－Samara was too eager, and he was too excited when his fingers traveled up her skirt and found she wasn't wearing panties. The windows fogged up all around them, and the car filled with an addictive heat. His mouth ruined her red lipstick－it ended up all over his face, all over his shirt collar when she kissed his neck, but he didn't care. He could only say her name that day, over and over, whispering it like a prayer as she bounced on top of him. It felt like an illicit affair, and he liked it－he loved it.
A horrifying, intrusive thought came into his mind at that point, one that kept haunting him: Is this how Gwen felt? Is this what she was missing?
It scared the hell out of him, and he pushed the thought aside with everything he had, looking into Samara's flushed, smiling face before he kissed her.
No, he told himself. I won't let you taint this, Gwen. I love her.
That was the thought that did him in. That was the last nail in the coffin, he realized, as he stared at the email from Ellesmere.
"Mr. Jones, we are pleased with your decision to join our team. The links to your flight information are enclosed. We look forward to seeing you soon!"
Putting his phone in his pocket, he looked over his packed bags, taking one last look through his apartment before he walked out the door.
"I'm sorry, Samara…"
SC SC SC SC SC SC SC
Charles waited in the first-class lounge anxiously. He sat by the window, watching other planes pull in and out of their gates. The sun was getting low, and the sky was shades of pink and orange, blurred into the clouds. His phone rang, and when he saw the caller ID, his heart stopped.
He answered it.
WHY did I answer it?!
"You weren't even going to say goodbye?" she asked him outright. "After everything? You were just going to leave?"
Charles closed his eyes, hating the devastation in her voice, "Samara… it's-it's not yo－"
"I know it's not me," she said. "I know I didn't do anything. I followed your guidelines－but I thought after everything, you'd at least kiss me goodbye."
He sighed, running his hand through his bangs, "If I kissed you again, I wouldn't be strong enough to leave."
"Strong?!" she cried incredulously. "You think what you're doing is strong?"
"Samara, it's complicated," he told her. Excuses, excuses, Charles…
"I know it's complicated, Charles," she said sadly. "I know it is－I may not know everything about you, but I have a feeling that the reason you're leaving has something to do with that chain you carry in your pocket. I think it all has to do with that." Her voice was shaking, and she went on, "It's a reminder of something, I think. Something your ex said to you."
Charles' throat closed up, and he was unable to respond. His eyes stung.
"What did she say to you, Charles?" Samara asked, her voice full of pain. "What did she say to break you down, to make you feel like you weren't enough, to try and justify what she did? What did she say to make you want to bury the wonderful man you are?"
He still couldn't speak, and hearing her call him wonderful made his heart break.
"She was wrong, Charles," Samara went on. "Whatever she said, whatever she tried to hurt you with－she was wrong." She sniffed, "And even if you don't want to be with me anymore, I want you to know that you deserve to be loved, Charles. Do you hear me? You deserve to be loved again." Her voice broke, "I could love you. I can… I do."
Charles' hands shook, and he covered his eyes with his free hand, feeling them water. He looked out the window next to him, trying to keep his emotions hidden from the few people in the lounge.
"How could I not?" Samara asked him. "You built me up. You showed me how to love myself. You were my first kiss… did you know that? I gave everything to you, Charles, and I don't regret a second of it... Do you?"
"N-Never," he told her, finally finding his voice. "I never will, Samara."
She sniffed again. She was crying. Crying for him. "Well, I'm glad," she told him. "I'm glad to hear that, at least." He heard her take a deep breath, "And I… I wanted you to know I'm going to take my proposal to Indigineer. I'm going to present it myself next week. I'm at the office r-right now, trying to prepare what I'm going to say."
"You'll do great," he told her softly. "Knock 'em dead, bunty."
Hearing his pet name for her must have hurt, because she didn't respond for a minute. When her soft voice came through again, it hit him like a hot spike through his chest, "...Goodbye, Charles."
"Go－"
The line went dead before he could say another word.
Charles sighed and reached into his pocket for the chain. Any time he felt himself slipping from his control in the past, he would clutch the chain in his pocket, run his wedding band through his fingers, putting himself back in those dark moments with Gwen and her biting words. Oddly enough, the entire time he was with Samara, he never felt the need to touch it.
He looked at the gold band, narrowing his eyes at it before tossing the whole thing in the trash.
SC SC SC SC SC SC SC
It was dark by the time Samuel Young made it back to the states. For the remainder of his vacation, he'd tried to keep his fury to himself, but his wife knew him too well. When she asked him what was wrong, he explained everything. Samantha listened, nodding and stroking his hair affectionately as they lay in bed. When he finished, she only asked him one question: Would it really be so bad if they were together?
Yes! he told himself. It would!
When his plane touched down at the airport, he pulled out his phone and ran the SWB protocol app, trying to locate Jones. His eyes narrowed at the screen with the location locked on, and when he got off the plane he made a beeline for the cab station. Once he found a car, he told the driver the address and fumed the entire ride.
Why Jones would be in the office at this hour was beyond him, but Mr. Young was ready to have it out with him no matter where the bastard was.
The office building was dark when he got inside, and he marched through the halls to Young Technologies.
The moment he opened the door, however, he heard music playing softly. And it wasn't just any music: he recognized it as a favorite of his and Samantha's. It was well-known to their children as well, because his wife would sing it to them before bed when they were young. It was the song he played for Samantha the night before she left for Florida. They'd danced all night… Samuel stopped dead in his tracks, slowly approaching the office where the music was coming from－his daughter's office.
The music got a little louder as Samuel got to the doorway and looked inside.
They were dancing. Slow and close, swaying lazily with the soul song playing. They were completely oblivious to him standing there, both their eyes closed. Charles' hand was around her back, hugging her tightly against him as his cheek lightly rested at the top of her head. The look on his face was so serene, so peacefully happy.
And when he looked at his daughter－his pumpkin, his angel, his princess－he saw a young woman. She was wearing Samantha's light green dress. Her head was resting against Charles' chest, one hand on his shoulder and the other gently clasped with one of Charles'.
Samuel saw her feet were bare, and that Charles had taken off his shoes. He saw the giant bouquet of daisies on the table nearby, and finally he just smiled to himself, shaking his head as the last lines of the song were sung.
If you wanted
to leave me
and roam…
When you got back,
I'd just say
"Welcome home"-
'Cause, honey, nothin'
nothin',
nothin',
can ever change this
love I have for you…
"No," Samuel said to himself as he walked out of the office into the cool night air. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad…"
SC SC SC SC SC SC SC
The song at the end of this chapter is "Nothing Can Change This Love" by Sam Cooke, and I highly recommend you guys give it a listen after you read this.
I'm not really a Charm-shipper (I know, surprising, right?), but I do feel like Sam and Charles would be great for each other. Their relationship, however it really happens, I have a feeling it will be a stepping stone towards something great for the both of them-even if they don't end up together.
I seriously thought about ending this fic on a sadder note, but I just don't think I could do that to y'all.
I hope y'all enjoyed this-please let me know what you think.
Be safe and stay healthy,
Glacier