Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 14
A beautiful face flashed in his mind. Delilah. He could pretend it was Delilah.
Right, that was the plan.
Perfect plan.
The stripper wouldn’t object. After all, it was what she was paid for. She’d do whatever he wanted her to do.
Excellent.
There was only one problem with his brilliant plan.
His cock had gone completely limp.
Dead.
Absolutely fucking dead!
Not a single blood cell rushing to it to rouse him, not a one.
Shriveled up like a prune.
What the hell was going on? It had been working fine only a few minutes ago, and now, with a naked woman waiting to be fucked, he couldn’t get it up!
Not even an inch, not half an inch.
No movement whatsoever.
“What are you waiting for, big boy?” she teased him and batted her mascara-crusted eyelashes at him.
Samson glared at her. Was she mocking him?
She took two steps toward him and placed her hand over the zipper of his pants.
“Oh.” She let out a disappointed sigh.
With lightning speed, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him. He pushed her away from him with his next breath.
“Fuck!”
The guys downstairs toasted each other when they heard Samson’s voice from upstairs. In the old Victorian voices carried well.
“Now, that’s either been one hell of an orgasm,” Ricky began.
“Fucking hell!” Samson’s voice came from above.
A few choice expletives followed. The guys looked at each other.
“Or none at all,” Amaury mused.
They raised their heads toward the ceiling to listen for more, when they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“None at all,” Thomas confirmed.
“Oh bugger.” That was Milo. “Poor sod!”
Samson had already stormed into the kitchen and overheard Milo’s comment. He was fuming and ready to kill somebody. Thomas protectively stepped in front of Milo.
“Fuck!” With the power of a sledgehammer Samson slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking the granite countertop. It split into several pieces.
His eyes glared red, and his fangs were extended. He could barely control his anger.
“Amaury, get him some blood, now,” Ricky ordered calmly, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Samson.
“I’m already on it.” Amaury handed Samson a glass with the lukewarm red liquid.
“Here you go, Samson, take a drink. You need it.”
Samson snatched the glass out of Amaury’s hand and gulped it down in one go, then glared at Ricky.
“You’d better make it clear to that stripper that if she breathes one word about this to anybody, I’ll snap her pretty little neck in half. Is that understood?”
The feral look in his eyes confirmed that he meant it.
Ricky nodded. “We’d better be leaving. Guys!” He waved them out of the kitchen.
Samson could hear them in the hallway as the stripper came down the stairs.
“But he had a hard-on when that woman was here. I saw it. In fact, it was hard to miss,” Thomas whispered loud enough for Samson’s sensitive hearing to pick it up.
“I guess it would have worked with her. Shame she’s a mortal,” Amaury whispered back. Then his tone changed. “Hey honey, since we’ve hired you for the entire night, how about you come back with me. I have something you could squeeze in between those big tits …”
A giggle was the stripper’s reply.
Seconds later they were gone. The place was quiet again. Too quiet.
Amaury was right. It would have worked with her. Samson was positive. So why couldn’t he get it up with the stripper? She had a good body, she was willing.
But she wasn’t Delilah. She didn’t have her scent or her beauty. Damn, her lips had been so delicious, and that timid tongue he’d finally coaxed out of her. Heaven. What a kiss, and what a pliable little body with just the right curves. He knew it hadn’t been one-sided. He’d sensed her arousal. And then, when he’d come down the stairs bringing her dry clothes, her eyes had examined every inch of his body, and she’d liked what she’d seen. In fact, she’d licked her lips even though he was sure she hadn’t noticed she was doing it. In her eyes he’d seen heat.
Fuck, he wanted her. Whatever it took, he had to have her.
Samson dialed a number. The call was answered immediately.
“Dr. Drake’s office. How may I help you?” Barbie doll purred like a kitten.
“Samson Woodford. I need to see Dr. Drake.”
Right, that was the plan.
Perfect plan.
The stripper wouldn’t object. After all, it was what she was paid for. She’d do whatever he wanted her to do.
Excellent.
There was only one problem with his brilliant plan.
His cock had gone completely limp.
Dead.
Absolutely fucking dead!
Not a single blood cell rushing to it to rouse him, not a one.
Shriveled up like a prune.
What the hell was going on? It had been working fine only a few minutes ago, and now, with a naked woman waiting to be fucked, he couldn’t get it up!
Not even an inch, not half an inch.
No movement whatsoever.
“What are you waiting for, big boy?” she teased him and batted her mascara-crusted eyelashes at him.
Samson glared at her. Was she mocking him?
She took two steps toward him and placed her hand over the zipper of his pants.
“Oh.” She let out a disappointed sigh.
With lightning speed, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him. He pushed her away from him with his next breath.
“Fuck!”
The guys downstairs toasted each other when they heard Samson’s voice from upstairs. In the old Victorian voices carried well.
“Now, that’s either been one hell of an orgasm,” Ricky began.
“Fucking hell!” Samson’s voice came from above.
A few choice expletives followed. The guys looked at each other.
“Or none at all,” Amaury mused.
They raised their heads toward the ceiling to listen for more, when they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“None at all,” Thomas confirmed.
“Oh bugger.” That was Milo. “Poor sod!”
Samson had already stormed into the kitchen and overheard Milo’s comment. He was fuming and ready to kill somebody. Thomas protectively stepped in front of Milo.
“Fuck!” With the power of a sledgehammer Samson slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking the granite countertop. It split into several pieces.
His eyes glared red, and his fangs were extended. He could barely control his anger.
“Amaury, get him some blood, now,” Ricky ordered calmly, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Samson.
“I’m already on it.” Amaury handed Samson a glass with the lukewarm red liquid.
“Here you go, Samson, take a drink. You need it.”
Samson snatched the glass out of Amaury’s hand and gulped it down in one go, then glared at Ricky.
“You’d better make it clear to that stripper that if she breathes one word about this to anybody, I’ll snap her pretty little neck in half. Is that understood?”
The feral look in his eyes confirmed that he meant it.
Ricky nodded. “We’d better be leaving. Guys!” He waved them out of the kitchen.
Samson could hear them in the hallway as the stripper came down the stairs.
“But he had a hard-on when that woman was here. I saw it. In fact, it was hard to miss,” Thomas whispered loud enough for Samson’s sensitive hearing to pick it up.
“I guess it would have worked with her. Shame she’s a mortal,” Amaury whispered back. Then his tone changed. “Hey honey, since we’ve hired you for the entire night, how about you come back with me. I have something you could squeeze in between those big tits …”
A giggle was the stripper’s reply.
Seconds later they were gone. The place was quiet again. Too quiet.
Amaury was right. It would have worked with her. Samson was positive. So why couldn’t he get it up with the stripper? She had a good body, she was willing.
But she wasn’t Delilah. She didn’t have her scent or her beauty. Damn, her lips had been so delicious, and that timid tongue he’d finally coaxed out of her. Heaven. What a kiss, and what a pliable little body with just the right curves. He knew it hadn’t been one-sided. He’d sensed her arousal. And then, when he’d come down the stairs bringing her dry clothes, her eyes had examined every inch of his body, and she’d liked what she’d seen. In fact, she’d licked her lips even though he was sure she hadn’t noticed she was doing it. In her eyes he’d seen heat.
Fuck, he wanted her. Whatever it took, he had to have her.
Samson dialed a number. The call was answered immediately.
“Dr. Drake’s office. How may I help you?” Barbie doll purred like a kitten.
“Samson Woodford. I need to see Dr. Drake.”
