With the way Sam stormed out earlier, I began to wonder if telling him about Ahmad had been a mistake. But hiding it wasn't an option. Sam had no sense of personal boundaries — he would have found out eventually.
"Ma'am, boss said to make sure you're settled in safely. This way, please," the driver said politely as he opened the car door.
We had just arrived at the estate Sam mentioned — the place I was to stay from now on. A sharp pang hit my chest as the realization sank in: I wouldn't be seeing Ma'Cherry anymore.
The building was breathtaking. The front yard was manicured to perfection, with a low maze of sculpted hedges winding across the grounds like an elegant puzzle. In the center of it all, a graceful stone fountain gushed clear water, glistening under the garden lights like liquid diamonds.
As we stepped inside, the warm scent of food greeted us. My stomach twisted with sudden hunger.
"Welcome, ma'am," one of the maids greeted me with a soft smile. "I'll take it from here." She dismissed the driver and turned to lead me in.
The house was a stunning five-story modern estate, its sleek design blended with timeless luxury. Everything gleamed — polished floors, towering windows, and ambient lighting that kissed the walls with a golden hue. This place didn't just look expensive; it felt sacred, like a home.
The maid led me up to my room. As soon as I stepped in, the subtle scent of rose petals wafted through the air. It was delicate. Feminine.
Two full-length windows stood tall on either side of the bed, draped in lush, heavy curtains that pooled slightly at the floor. The walls were a soft, rich brown, creating a warm, calming aura. The bed was wide and perfectly made, the linens soft as clouds. A walk-in closet stood open, revealing all my things — perfectly arranged, just like Sam said they would be.
"Dinner will be served in your room," the maid said with a small nod before slipping out.
I preferred it that way. I didn't have the energy to sit in a formal dining room, not tonight. This place was enchanting… but I couldn't help missing my old space.
Dinner arrived thirty minutes later: a beautiful spread of roasted chicken glazed in honey, garlic mashed potatoes, grilled vegetables, and a small bowl of fruit salad. The aroma alone made my mouth water. I ate in silence, finishing everything quickly.
Afterward, I changed into my nightwear — a silky slip I usually wore for comfort — locked the door, and slipped beneath the warm covers.
But I didn't get far.
A knock broke the silence.
"Who is it?" I asked, dragging myself toward the door, half-asleep.
"It's Sam," came the familiar voice, low and firm.
I barely turned the handle before he was on me. He grabbed my waist, slammed the door shut behind him, locked it with one swift twist, and pressed me against the wall. His mouth found mine, rough and consuming. His kiss wasn't soft — it was wild, full of heat and demand, his tongue pushing its way in without hesitation.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead brushing against mine. His breath fanned my lips. "Did he kiss you like that?" he growled.
I couldn't answer. He was already back on me, devouring my mouth again. The moment his lips touched mine, my body melted. I didn't care about anything else — not Ahmad, not the past, just this moment and the fire it brought.
His hand cupped the side of my neck while the other traced the curve of my hip, gripping me tighter with each moan I let slip. He kissed down my jawline, then to my throat. I felt him groan softly against my skin when I whimpered — a sound that seemed to unravel him.
"No one else should have access to you," he breathed between kisses. "It's me. Only me."
The possessiveness in his voice made my skin flush even more. I wanted him — all of him.
Somehow, we ended up on the bed. I didn't remember how. One second I was against the wall, and the next I was lying beneath him, his mouth trailing fire across my collarbone.
He slipped the strap of my nightgown down gently, exposing one breast, then the other. His lips wrapped around one nipple while his hand toyed with the other, and I moaned — loud, raw, uncontrolled.
I had never felt anything like this before. I had never felt so desired.
His fingers traveled down my thighs, spreading warmth everywhere they touched. When they found my center, he began to rub slow, deliberate circles over my clit. My hips bucked under him instinctively. Something was building — something unfamiliar but incredible.
Then he paused.
His fingers slid to my entrance, but just before pushing in, he looked up at me.
"Are you a virgin?" His voice was low — a mixture of concern and restraint.
I nodded, my breath shallow, heart racing.
"Shit," he muttered, sitting up as he began to button his shirt. "I'm sorry, Sarah."
"No — please," I whispered, reaching for him. "Touch me. I want you to touch me."
His jaw clenched. "You don't get it. You're a virgin, Sarah. I can't."
"You don't want to?" I challenged softly, noticing the way his hands shook as he did up the buttons.
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. His eyes told the truth — he wanted me. Badly. But he was holding back.
"I see through you, Sam," I said quietly, stepping closer. "I don't care about the rules. I just want you."
He looked at me for a long, aching moment. Then without a word, he turned and walked out of the room.
The door clicked shut.
And then — the sound of the key turning in the lock.
He locked me in.
And just like that, he was gone.
********
***Sam's pov***
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shouldn't want her. I have no right to. But every time I close my eyes, she's there—her skin, her voice, the innocence that drives me insane.
Locking her in felt like the only way to keep myself from doing something reckless. But even now, with the key burning a hole in my pocket, all I can think about is her lips, her soft moans, the way she said "Please, touch me."
God, what is it about her that's making me lose control?
I needed to get her out of my system.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't used in weeks. She answered on the second ring.
"Come over. Now."
She didn't need further explanation. She knew exactly what I wanted.
She arrived in less than twenty minutes. Blonde, long legs, glossy lips—everything I usually go for when I need to forget.
And I tried. I really did.
But when it was over, I just lay there in the silence, staring up at the ceiling like a man still starving.
I tossed her a bundle of notes. "You can see yourself out."
I turned on my side and closed my eyes, but instead of peace, all I saw was Sarah—naked beneath me, trembling, flushed, mine.
"Are you still here?" I growled the next morning, seeing her still lazily sprawled on my sheets.
She flinched. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked really tired—"
"Get out of my house." My voice was cold, final.
I walked into the bathroom and turned the water on full blast, hoping the cold would do something to tame the fire burning inside me. But it didn't.
By the time I stepped out, she was gone. Thank God.
I threw on a white round-neck tee, the short sleeves stretching tight over my arms, and pulled on a pair of ash-grey cotton shugs. I needed air. But before I even made it out the door, my feet were moving toward her room.
I told myself I just wanted to unlock the door, to give her her freedom.
But when the key turned and the door creaked open, my eyes searched for her instinctively.
She wasn't in sight. Panic licked at my chest until I walked further in and found the bathroom door slightly ajar.
And there she was.
Under the cascading water, her skin glowed like golden silk, droplets gliding over every smooth inch of her body. My breath hitched. My fists clenched at my sides. The memory of her whimpering under my touch came rushing back, and before I knew it, I was hard again—aching.
I needed to leave.
Before I did something stupid.
Just as I turned to shut the door—
"Who is it?" her voice called out, soft and sleepy, yet seductive in a way she'd never intended.
My hand paused on the door.
I clenched my jaw and closed it behind me.
What the hell is happening to me?