Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 25
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Samson kept holding her hand during the entire first act and only released it when there was occasion to clap. She noticed him looking at her from the side several times, but she didn’t return his gaze. She was too worried her good manners would desert her like the rats leaving a sinking ship, and she’d jump his bones right there in the theater. She didn’t need or want an audience for what she wanted to do with him.
When the lights came up for intermission, he let go of her hand.
“It’s gotten warm in here.” She fanned her face with her hands.
“Downright hot. Would you like a drink?”
What she needed was to splash some water onto her face before she spontaneously combusted. Or maybe a cold shower to douse the flames she felt shooting through her belly.
“That’d be great.”
They got up and made their way through the crowd toward the bar. Samson was right behind her, his hand on her waist guiding her in front of him. When she reached a bottleneck at the door, she stopped abruptly, unable to get any further. His body suddenly molded itself to her back. His chest felt strong and hard, and his hand, which had rested on her waist, now slid around her stomach to hold her close to him.
“I guess we’re stuck here for a little while.” Despite his comment, he appeared unconcerned about the hold-up. His hand lay intimately low on her stomach, his fingers leisurely tracing the seam of her panties through her skirt. Subtly she pressed her body into his and felt the rigid outline of his erection against her lower back. His hand on her stomach held her in place so she couldn’t rub herself against him any further. Had he noticed what she was doing?
“Delilah, we’ll have to be patient.” She felt his warm breath on her neck and his lips almost brush her skin. His words told her he’d caught her naughty movements and knew exactly what she was up to. Why didn’t she feel embarrassed about her brazen behavior?
“Patience is overrated, don’t you think?” Her retort elicited a chuckle from him, but he didn’t release her from the intimate position she was locked into. On the contrary, it felt as if he pulled her closer into him, or was his erection growing? His fingers seemed to slip slightly lower, provocatively pressing against the top of her mound.
“I’m sorry, are you getting too hot?” His voice sounded almost innocent, when his hands were anything but.
“I like it warm.”
None of the other theatergoers could see his response to her admission, but Delilah could feel it.
Samson slowly rubbed his thumb against her sex, the thin fabric of her skirt barely providing any barrier. His nostrils picked up her scent: the sweet scent of her arousal. She surprised him with how far she let him go, and if there weren’t that many witnesses around, he’d fuck her right here, standing up.
All it would take was to hitch up her skirt, strip her of her panties, and she’d be his for the taking. Without even touching her, he knew she was already wet—wet enough for him to slide in without resistance. What if he pulled her aside and found a dark corner somewhere in the theater? Would she be game?
Before he could form a plan, the bottleneck dissolved, and he had to release her from his intimate embrace. They moved into the bar.
“What would you like?” He had a hard time making his voice sound normal again. In his own ears he could only hear the lust and desire his body had difficulty getting under control.
“Just some water, please.” As he ordered, Delilah excused herself to find the ladies room and left him at the bar. His eyes followed her. She had curves in all the right places. How could a woman like her still be unattached? Were all those human guys out there blind? Just as well; at least he wouldn’t have to fight off the competition. She would be all his soon—very soon.
“Wishful thinking.” The voice behind him was one he hadn’t wanted to hear ever again. Should he ignore her and leave?
“I said—” she repeated.
Samson spun around. “I heard you the first time, Ilona.” His voice had the razor-sharp edge to it which he always employed when dealing with enemies. He glanced at the tall beauty in front of him. She was dressed to the nines, her long red hair artfully draped over her naked shoulders. The tight corset of her dress accentuated her breasts, and the dark green of her gown complemented the color of her hair and skin. She was stunning, but he wasn’t fooled, not anymore.
“A little tense, are we?”
“None of your concern. Shouldn’t you be heading for a costume party somewhere in Hell?” Samson took the bottle of water the bartender handed him and paid.
When the lights came up for intermission, he let go of her hand.
“It’s gotten warm in here.” She fanned her face with her hands.
“Downright hot. Would you like a drink?”
What she needed was to splash some water onto her face before she spontaneously combusted. Or maybe a cold shower to douse the flames she felt shooting through her belly.
“That’d be great.”
They got up and made their way through the crowd toward the bar. Samson was right behind her, his hand on her waist guiding her in front of him. When she reached a bottleneck at the door, she stopped abruptly, unable to get any further. His body suddenly molded itself to her back. His chest felt strong and hard, and his hand, which had rested on her waist, now slid around her stomach to hold her close to him.
“I guess we’re stuck here for a little while.” Despite his comment, he appeared unconcerned about the hold-up. His hand lay intimately low on her stomach, his fingers leisurely tracing the seam of her panties through her skirt. Subtly she pressed her body into his and felt the rigid outline of his erection against her lower back. His hand on her stomach held her in place so she couldn’t rub herself against him any further. Had he noticed what she was doing?
“Delilah, we’ll have to be patient.” She felt his warm breath on her neck and his lips almost brush her skin. His words told her he’d caught her naughty movements and knew exactly what she was up to. Why didn’t she feel embarrassed about her brazen behavior?
“Patience is overrated, don’t you think?” Her retort elicited a chuckle from him, but he didn’t release her from the intimate position she was locked into. On the contrary, it felt as if he pulled her closer into him, or was his erection growing? His fingers seemed to slip slightly lower, provocatively pressing against the top of her mound.
“I’m sorry, are you getting too hot?” His voice sounded almost innocent, when his hands were anything but.
“I like it warm.”
None of the other theatergoers could see his response to her admission, but Delilah could feel it.
Samson slowly rubbed his thumb against her sex, the thin fabric of her skirt barely providing any barrier. His nostrils picked up her scent: the sweet scent of her arousal. She surprised him with how far she let him go, and if there weren’t that many witnesses around, he’d fuck her right here, standing up.
All it would take was to hitch up her skirt, strip her of her panties, and she’d be his for the taking. Without even touching her, he knew she was already wet—wet enough for him to slide in without resistance. What if he pulled her aside and found a dark corner somewhere in the theater? Would she be game?
Before he could form a plan, the bottleneck dissolved, and he had to release her from his intimate embrace. They moved into the bar.
“What would you like?” He had a hard time making his voice sound normal again. In his own ears he could only hear the lust and desire his body had difficulty getting under control.
“Just some water, please.” As he ordered, Delilah excused herself to find the ladies room and left him at the bar. His eyes followed her. She had curves in all the right places. How could a woman like her still be unattached? Were all those human guys out there blind? Just as well; at least he wouldn’t have to fight off the competition. She would be all his soon—very soon.
“Wishful thinking.” The voice behind him was one he hadn’t wanted to hear ever again. Should he ignore her and leave?
“I said—” she repeated.
Samson spun around. “I heard you the first time, Ilona.” His voice had the razor-sharp edge to it which he always employed when dealing with enemies. He glanced at the tall beauty in front of him. She was dressed to the nines, her long red hair artfully draped over her naked shoulders. The tight corset of her dress accentuated her breasts, and the dark green of her gown complemented the color of her hair and skin. She was stunning, but he wasn’t fooled, not anymore.
“A little tense, are we?”
“None of your concern. Shouldn’t you be heading for a costume party somewhere in Hell?” Samson took the bottle of water the bartender handed him and paid.
