#samwilsonsmut

It was as if a mask had been lifted, revealing the true Sam—the one who wasn’t just a man who’d caught your eye at a bar, but someone with a mission, someone who viewed you as an assignment. The realization left you feeling cold, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d felt in his arms just hours before.

“Sam,” you began, your voice laced with venom as you tried to keep your composure. “You know my father?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the anger and betrayal coursing through you were too strong to suppress.

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. He just stood there, looking at you with hooded eyes, his expression guarded. The warmth and familiarity that had drawn you to him last night were gone, replaced by something cold and distant.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady but low, almost as if he was bracing himself for your reaction. “I know him.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw something different—a glint of dominance flickering in them. It was a challenge, an assertion of control, as if he was daring you to back down, to look away. But you didn’t. You refused to break eye contact, refusing to let him see the turmoil brewing inside you.

The silence was deafening, the atmosphere charged with unresolved emotions. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of anger, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite place. The man who had seemed so open and carefree last night was now a stranger, someone who had hidden his true intentions behind a mask of charm.

Finally, Sam broke the silence, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "I didn't know you were his daughter. You were just some random girl at the bar."

His words echoed in your mind, each syllable hitting harder than the last. Just some random girl at the bar. The phrase lodged itself in your thoughts, repeating over and over as if trying to force you to accept it. Your frown deepened, the sting of those words more painful than you’d anticipated.

Why did it matter? Why should you care so much about how he saw you? He was just a stranger, someone who’d walked into your life unexpectedly and now, just as abruptly, had revealed himself to be something else entirely. Yet the casual dismissal of what you’d shared, reducing it to something meaningless, gnawed at you in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

The warmth of last night—the connection you felt—seemed so distant now, replaced by a cold, harsh reality. You had been someone to him, even if only for a fleeting moment, and now he was brushing it off as if it meant nothing.

“Yeah, I have the reminders on my neck,” You chuckled softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. You shouldn’t care, you reminded yourself. You had been the one to leave, to walk away without a second thought. But now, hearing how easily he dismissed you, it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected.

His eyes followed your words, drifting down to your neck and chest. The way his gaze lingered made you acutely aware of the marks he’d left behind, the faint bruises and love bites that now felt more like evidence of something fleeting, something that was meant to be forgotten as quickly as it had happened. "Do you do that with every girl you meet in a bar?"

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge the reaction he wanted to pull from you. His intense focus made you feel exposed, like he was peeling back layers to see what lay beneath your exterior.

You could sense the shift in his demeanor, the way he was probing, testing the waters to see how you would respond. It was as if he was searching for something specific—a crack in your resolve, a hint of vulnerability that he could latch onto. The air between you felt charged, the tension building as you both stood on the precipice of something neither of you could fully predict.

"Only the pretty ones," he said sarcastically, his tone laced with an edge that made your skin prickle. "Now, I’m sure you know your dad’s rules."

The familiar pangs of annoyance rose within you, like an old wound being poked at. The mere mention of your father’s rules was enough to stir a mix of resentment and frustration. Yet, you held your tongue, swallowing down the retort that threatened to spill out. There was no point in escalating things further. The conversation was already teetering on the edge of uncomfortable, and the last thing you wanted was to add the weight of your father’s disapproval to the growing tension.

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, even as Sam’s words gnawed at you. His sarcasm was a stark contrast to the intimacy you’d shared the night before, and it only served to remind you of how different things were now. How much had changed in the span of a few hours.

"But, while I'm here, there are going to be some other rules I'm implementing," Sam said, his gaze sweeping around the house before finally landing on the kitchen.

The casual way he said it, as if he had every right to dictate the terms of your life, made your irritation flare up again. It was one thing for your father to impose his rules, but for Sam to add his own felt like a step too far. Finally, he turned back to you, his expression serious. “We’ll start with the basics. No going out without telling me where you’re going. No one comes in without my say-so. And you’ll check in with me every hour.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief. "I don't know if my dad told you, but I am 21. I'm a fucking adult, so I don't have to listen to your bullshit."

Sam didn’t flinch. In fact, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. “Oh, Maliki told me all about you. The parties, coming home smelling like weed, bringing home men with criminal backgrounds. I mean, if disappointing your father was a sport, you’d be pretty damn good at it.”

His words cut deep, each accusation like a sting. The smirk on his face only made it worse, as if he found your reaction amusing. Anger flared inside you, but there was also a pang of guilt. Some of what he said was true, and you knew it. But the way he threw it in your face—like it was nothing more than a game to him—made your blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you shot back, your voice shaking slightly, whether from anger or something else, you weren’t sure. "But I guess that doesn’t matter in hindsight. I mean, you didn’t need to know me enough to shove your fingers up me and make me cum. You didn’t even ask my name."

Sam’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as your words landed. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. But he didn’t look away.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low, carrying a weight you hadn’t heard before. “I didn’t know your name, and I didn’t ask. What happened last night… it wasn’t about knowing or not knowing.”

There was a brief pause, the air between you both thick with tension. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here now, and I’m not leaving,” he continued, his tone steady but laced with an intensity that made your heart race. “Your father asked me to keep you safe, and whether you like it or not, that’s what I’m going to do.”

"We should call my dad and tell him how safe I am. We can go over last night for him."

Sam’s eyes narrowed, catching the challenge in your voice, and a dangerous glint flashed in his gaze. Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The tension between you crackled in the air, thick and electric, as he unlocked the screen.

“You want to call your dad?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a dark intensity. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Before you could respond, Sam’s fingers moved deftly over the screen, and in an instant, he had your father’s contact pulled up. The name “Maliki” glowed ominously on the screen as he pressed the phone into your hand, the weight of it heavy with the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

“Here,” he said, his tone cold and challenging. “Tell him everything. Let’s see how safe you really are under my watch.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the phone, the reality of what he was pushing you to do hitting you like a tidal wave. The ringing had already started, the sound echoing in your ears, and you realized with a jolt that Sam had already dialed the number. There was no turning back now.

“Go on,” Sam urged, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Or should I tell him for you? I’m sure he’d love to hear every detail about last night, how his daughter got herself into a situation she can’t control.”

The phone continued to ring in your hand, vibrating slightly with each passing second. Sam waited to see how you would respond. The pressure was suffocating, the air between you thick with tension that seemed to tighten around your throat.

With each ring, the urge to push the phone away grew stronger, but so did the defiant part of you that refused to let Sam see you flinch. Your grip on the phone tightened as you weighed your options, knowing that whatever happened next would set the tone for everything that followed.

“Go ahead,” Sam taunted, his voice deceptively calm, though the undercurrent of dominance was unmistakable. “Or are you too scared to let Daddy know what his little girl’s been up to?”

The words cut deep, stoking the embers of your anger. You raised your head, meeting his gaze with a fierceness that belied the turmoil inside you. “Fuck you,” you shot back, the words sharp and bitter.

“Tempting, Star,” he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a cold, almost mocking smile. The phone suddenly stopped ringing, plunging the room into an oppressive silence. Your father’s voicemail picked up, the familiar voice on the recording a stark reminder of the reality waiting on the other end of the line.

The sound of that nickname sent a shiver down your spine. Star. He said it like he knew you, like he had some claim on you now. The way the name rolled off his tongue was both unsettling and eerily intimate, bringing back flashes of the night before—when things were simpler, when the stakes didn’t feel as high.

“Star,” you repeated under your breath, more to yourself than to him, trying to reconcile the man standing in front of you with the one you thought you knew just hours ago.

Sam's proximity was suffocating, the heat of his breath against your ear making it hard to think clearly. The playful allure from the night before had vanished, replaced by something darker, something that made your pulse race for entirely different reasons.

“Yeah, Star,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “And if you do what I say, we’ll get along just fine. But if you want to make things difficult, I won’t hesitate to remind you who’s really in control here.”

The voicemail beeped, breaking the tension momentarily. But the silence that followed was thick, pregnant with the unspoken threats and the weight of the situation you found yourself in.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure, even as your mind raced to figure out what to do next. There was something about the way Sam used that nickname, the way he leaned in just a little too close, that made it clear he wasn’t the same man you met at the bar.

“So what’s it gonna be, Star?” Sam’s voice was low, filled with a cold confidence that made it clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “Are you going to make this easy, or are we going to have a problem?”

You knew there was more to this than what he was saying. This wasn’t just about following orders. It was about power, control, and the twisted game you’d somehow been dragged into.

And now, you decided to play.

Steeling yourself, you tilted your chin up slightly, refusing to let him see any hint of fear or hesitation. You could feel the tension between you, taut like a wire, and you knew that whatever move you made next would set the tone for everything that followed.

“No, Sam,” you said, your voice calm but laced with defiance. “We won’t have a problem. At all.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed through Sam’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He leaned back slightly, a small, almost approving smile curving his lips.

“Good,” he replied, the word carrying a subtle note of satisfaction. It was as if he hadn’t expected you to push back, and now that you had, he was more intrigued than annoyed. He studied you for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge how serious you were.

But you didn’t flinch. You held his gaze, letting him know you weren’t afraid, that you weren’t going to be easily intimidated. If he wanted to play this game, you were ready to meet him move for move.

“Just remember,” Sam continued, his tone casual but with an unmistakable undercurrent of authority, “we’re on the same side here. Keep that in mind, and things will go smoothly.”

With that, he turned away, his attention shifting to something else in the room, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a minor detour. But you knew better. This was far from over, and every word exchanged had only set the stage for what was to come.

"And before you go up to your room, do the dishes," Sam added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

It was a small command, almost mundane, but the way he said it made it clear that this was just another way to assert control. You felt a spark of irritation flare up inside you, but you kept your expression neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up.

“Fine,” you replied, your voice steady. You turned on your heel and headed towards the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. The dishes in the sink were the last thing you wanted to deal with, but right now, it wasn’t about the dishes. It was about the message Sam was sending, and you weren’t about to let him think he had won.

As you reached the sink, you took a deep breath, calming the frustration simmering beneath the surface. You weren’t going to let him push you around, but you also knew you had to be smart about how you handled this. This was just the beginning, and you needed to stay sharp if you were going to figure out what Sam’s real game was.

But for now, you’d wash the dishes. And then, you’d figure out your next move.

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Night had fallen once again, wrapping the world in a blanket of shadows and stillness. The familiar hum of the night settled around you, the silence almost comforting after the tension-filled day. The house felt different now, its usual warmth replaced by a sense of unease, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Sam, quiet downstairs, had circled the house around five times, each lap a reminder of his constant presence. He would pause at your door, his knock soft but insistent, each time bringing with him a barrage of unnecessary questions.

“Don't you have friend to visit or something?”

“Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend or something?”

“What do you like to eat or whatever?”

They were questions you knew were meant to probe, to pry into your life in ways that felt invasive, but you let him. You let him ask, let him hover just outside the boundary of what was acceptable, because you needed to know what he was really after.

You gave him answers, short and clipped, but enough to satisfy his curiosity. You didn’t reveal too much, didn’t let on that you were watching him just as closely as he was watching you. Each question, each interaction, was a piece of a puzzle you were slowly putting together. The more he asked, the more you understood that this was about more than just following your father’s orders.

Sam was searching for something, testing your limits, seeing how far he could push before you pushed back. And as much as it annoyed you, you were equally intrigued. There was something about Sam, about the way he operated, that kept you on edge—but also kept you curious. He was a puzzle you hadn’t quite solved yet, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the challenge.

Plus, you had looked at his files.

It wasn’t difficult; your father was meticulous but not infallible. You knew where he kept his private documents, and it had only taken a few minutes to find the one with Sam’s name on it. Sam Wilson wasn’t just some random soldier assigned to babysit you—he was highly trained, with a background that made him both dangerous and invaluable.

His record was spotless, his skills unmatched, and his loyalty to your father was evident. But there were gaps in his history, parts of his life that were redacted, as if someone had gone to great lengths to keep certain details hidden. That intrigued you even more.

You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind and continued getting dressed. The tight dress you chose hugged your curves in all the right places, the light pink and purple fabric clinging to your waist and accentuating your figure. The open back added a touch of daring, while the design pushed your breasts up just enough to draw attention.

As you adjusted the dress, smoothing it over your hips, you couldn’t help but admire the way it made you look. It was a statement piece, a way to reclaim control in a situation that felt anything but. Tonight, you wouldn’t let Sam—or anyone else—dictate how you felt. And, maybe, you wore this just for him.

You stepped out of your room and into the hall, the soft click of your heels echoing against the hardwood floor. Each step was deliberate, a reminder that you were in control. The dress clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every line. As you descended the stairs, the sound of the TV grew louder, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of Sam's gaze when you finally stepped into the living room.

He was sitting on the couch, but the moment he saw you, he stilled, his eyes locking onto you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His gaze roamed over your body, taking in the way the light pink and purple fabric hugged your waist, how it pushed up your breasts and highlighted your figure. There was no mistaking the look on his face—he was practically drooling.

You picked up your purse from the side table, feeling the weight of Sam's stare with every step you took. His eyes followed the curve of your hips, lingering on the exposed skin of your back, the way the dress clung to you in all the right places. It was as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

As you turned to leave, you could feel the tension in the room thickening, like a coil wound too tight. You paused, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and caught the flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat.

"Don't wait up," you added, your tone teasing but with an edge that matched his own.

Sam leaned back on the couch, his gaze still fixed on you. "I won't," he replied, but the way he said it made you doubt it.

With a final smirk, you walked out the door, feeling the heat of his eyes on you until the very last moment.

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The night out had been a disappointment. The parties felt empty, the conversations hollow, and no one—neither man nor woman—captured your interest. As you moved through the crowd, you realized that the thrill you were seeking, the attention you craved, was nowhere to be found in the glitz and noise.

The truth was, the only person whose attention you really wanted was back at your house. The thought of Sam, with his intense gaze and commanding presence, lingered in the back of your mind, pulling you back to where you knew you truly wanted to be.

Yet, the realization that the person you were drawn to was your dad's best friend made you uncomfortable. It was a line you knew you shouldn’t cross, a boundary that felt wrong even as you found yourself inching closer to it. The thought of Sam's eyes on you, his voice in your ear, filled you with a mix of desire and guilt that gnawed at you, making it hard to breathe. Craving him went against everything you thought you knew about yourself, but the pull was undeniable, and that scared you more than anything.

As you stepped into the house, the internal struggle that had plagued you earlier melted away. All that mattered now was the undeniable pull you felt toward Sam. Desire coursed through you, and the thought of him begging for you, wanting you just as desperately, ignited something fierce within. The unspoken game between you two—the tension, the challenge, the anticipation—was thrilling. You wanted to push the boundaries, to see just how far you could take it before he broke.

"You're home early," Sam's voice cut through the silence like a blade, smooth and deliberate, carrying that familiar edge. "How was the night, Star?" That nickname again, the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air as you locked eyes with him. "It was… great," you replied, your voice soft but laced with the challenge. "Seems like the worst part of my night might just be coming home."

You could see the way his gaze darkened, the corners of his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.Sam’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your words. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, the air growing thicker with the tension. "Oh, is that so?" His voice was low, teasing, as if daring you to keep up the act.

You tilted your head, holding his gaze. "Maybe I was expecting something more exciting when I got home," you shot back, your tone light but edged with something more. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Careful what you wish for, Star," he warned, the words dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker. His gaze flickered down your body, taking in every detail of your dress, the way it hugged your curves, accentuating everything he had been eyeing since you walked out the door.

"Maybe I’m looking for trouble," you replied, meeting his stare with one of your own, the invisible game between you two only getting more intense. Sam’s eyes darkened, the playful glint fading as something more intense took its place. He closed the distance between you in one swift step, his hand brushing against your arm as he leaned in closer.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this." The words left Sam's lips, a simple declaration of the inevitable, but somehow, the sentence seemed to slip in one ear and out the other, ignored by the both of you.

Sam’s eyes bore into yours, the tension between you palpable. There was a flicker of hesitation, a brief moment where sanity tried to claw its way back into the forefront of your mind. But it was drowned out by the intensity of the situation, the undeniable pull that had been building between you since the night you first met. "Doing what exactly? I'm just having a talk with you," you said, smacking your lips as you pushed your eyebrows closer together, feigning concern. "Unless, you don’t think this is just talking."

Sam’s gaze darkened with a mix of amusement and challenge. He leaned in slightly, the proximity making the air between you crackle, “Oh, I’m sure there’s more to it than just talking,” He replied, his voice a low murmur that carried a hint of something dangerous. “But if you want to pretend otherwise, I’m not going to stop you.”

You looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the hint of a shy smile on your lips. “I’m just trying to understand where this conversation might go,” you said softly, your voice almost pure. “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

Sam’s gaze was anything but innocent. His eyes burned with unrestrained lust as he took in your every movement. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I should… sleep.”

You couldn’t help but tease him, a smile forming on your lips. “Together?” you asked, the question laced with playful curiosity. Sam’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your boldness. He shifted closer, his gaze locked onto yours with a heated intensity. “You’re really pushing it,” he said, his voice a low growl, barely containing his desire.

You watched him, your smile growing, enjoying the effect you had on him. “Just curious,” you said innocently, your tone playful yet suggestive. “Or maybe I just want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Before you could react, his lips were on yours, urgent and demanding, pulling you into a kiss that was as fierce as it was intoxicating. Sam’s eyes darkened further, his primal hunger evident in every line of his face. He took a decisive step closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. “Fuck it,” he murmured.

His breaths were ragged, his desire evident as he explored your lips with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the urgency in every touch, every caress, as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with lust, his expression a mix of satisfaction and longing. He rested his forehead against yours, his breaths mingling with yours, both of you catching your breath after the fervent kiss.

Sam's eyes were fixed on you, his expression a mix of desire and frustration. “Get out of this dress before I lose my mind,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. His gaze was intense, filled with an unspoken need that made it clear he was struggling to keep his composure. The urgency in Sam’s voice was palpable, making your pulse quicken. You met his intense gaze, a small, mischievous smile playing on your lips. “If you’re so desperate,” you teased softly, “maybe you should help me.”

You slowly started to undo the zipper of your dress, giving him a playful glance as you revealed a bit more skin with each movement. Sam’s eyes followed every motion, his breath growing heavier with each passing second. He stepped closer, his hands almost reaching out to assist, but he stopped himself, the restraint adding to the tension in the room.

As you slipped out of the dress, letting it fall to the floor, you took a step toward him, your confidence growing with every step. Sam’s gaze was fixed on you, his control slipping as he took in the sight before him.

Sam’s hands were suddenly on your waist, pulling you into him until there was no space left between you. You placed your hands on the back of his neck, leaning into the kiss with an intensity you hadn’t planned on. He was irresistible—every touch, every taste was too captivating.

As his lips claimed yours, Sam’s hands roamed with a possessive urgency. His fingers found their way beneath the fabric of your dress, gripping your hips firmly. You moaned softly into the kiss, the pleasure making it hard to think clearly.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “What are we doing?” You whispered, your voice breathless. Sam shrugged casually, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise. “Let’s find out,” he replied, his smirk widening as he drew you closer once more.He lifted me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist as he kissed me deeply. I tangled my fingers in his hair, feeling the heat of the moment as he lowered me onto the couch. His lips never left mine, even as his hands worked deftly to unzip my jacket and toss it aside.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze roamed over my body with a smoldering intensity that spoke volumes. “You look so good,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His hands rested on my sides, his thumb brushing over the lace that was coming undone.

“Then, make me feel good too,” I whispered, my voice breathless. In a heartbeat, his fingers were at your bra, swiftly undoing it and discarding it as he continued to explore you with a mix of urgency and longing. His fingers cupped your breast, teasing your nipple while his lips traveled down to your stomach. You gasped as his tongue traced just above your panty line, sending jolts of electricity through you. Looking down, you caught his smirk, which only fueled the fire building inside you.

He pushed your panties to the side and ran his tongue over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back, unable to contain your reaction. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, blurring your vision and heightening every sensation as he continued to drive you closer to the edge.

“Sam,” You warned, trying to move away from his mouth as you buckled your hips. “I can’t.”

Sam’s hand clamped over your mouth, his grip firm as he pressed down on your waist. His strength was surprising, given how he’d been so teasing moments before. “You can take it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin before he resumed his relentless focus. His tongue moved with a maddening skill, creating waves of pleasure that made it hard to think. Then, he pulled back slightly, his voice low and commanding. “Turn over.”

You turned over onto your stomach and got on your knees, but Sam’s hands guided you down until your ass was elevated, exposed and vulnerable. He let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Look how wet you are,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he positioned his tip close to your entrance. You could feel the heat radiating from him, making your senses sharpen and your pulse race.

His cock brushed against you with a tantalizing pressure, making your breath hitch. Your eyes rolled back instinctively as you felt the size of his tip pressing against your entrance, a promise of what was to come. Sam’s hand rested on your side, his fingers splayed possessively as he leaned in closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a blend of concern and desire, but the question was more about reassurance for him than for you. You could barely find the words, caught between the rising intensity of the moment and the overwhelming urge to surrender. You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your readiness, knowing full well that Sam was about to push you to your limits.

He guided himself in slowly, the head of his cock slipping past your entrance, making you gasp at the initial stretch. Sam’s movements were deliberate and controlled, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he adjusted to the tightness of your body. He continued to push in, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

The sensation of him filling you up was both intense and overwhelming, every muscle in your body taut with anticipation. Sam grunted softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first but quickly gaining in force and rhythm.

As he found a steady pace, you were lost in the mix of pleasure and pain, the raw intensity of each thrust sending you closer to the edge. His movements were powerful, each one driving deeper, and the heat between you was almost unbearable. You clung to the edge of the couch, your body arching with each powerful thrust, your moans and gasps filling the room as you surrendered to the relentless rhythm.

Sam’s grip tightened, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts as he continued to drive into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined pleasure, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and completely immersed in the experience.

He wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your head back so that you were forced to look up at him. His golden chain swung tantalizingly close to your face, its polished gleam almost hypnotic against the dim lighting of the room. Sam’s breath was hot on your neck as he pushed in deeper, the thickness of his cock stretching you in ways that made your body shiver.

You gasped, your entire body tensing as you tried to adjust to the fullness. “Damn, how big are you?” you managed to breathe out, the words coming out in a mixture of awe and disbelief. Sam’s chuckle was deep and rich, sending vibrations through his chest and resonating with your own shaky breaths.

“I’ll be gentle if you can’t take it,” he murmured, his voice a blend of teasing and genuine concern, a contrast to the raw desire in his eyes.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark with a primal intensity, his smirk lazy but confident. His tongue traced his lips as if savoring the anticipation. “I can take it,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you settled back down, steeling yourself for the relentless rhythm he was about to set.

Sam began thrusting slowly, each movement calculated and deep, filling you with a deliberate, throbbing pressure. Soft moans slipped from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, losing yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts. The slow, deliberate pace only heightened the tension, making each stroke feel like a build-up to something explosive.

He pulled out almost completely, leaving you craving the fullness before driving back in with more force. Each thrust grew more intense, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls. You could feel the heat and hardness of him stretching you, the pressure building with every deep, penetrating stroke.

“Thought you said you’d be gentle,” you managed to utter, your voice a mix of surprise and pleasure, as you looked back at him with wide eyes.

Sam’s smirk widened, his gaze never leaving yours. “Gentle’s overrated,” he replied, his voice laced with both satisfaction and challenge. His thrusts quickened, each one more powerful than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with a relentless, almost brutal rhythm. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back against him as he drove into you, making it clear that there was no going back from this.

Sam’s grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you up, the change in position only intensifying the sensations. You straddled him on the couch, feeling every inch of him as he continued to thrust upward. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips with a possessive urgency.

He leaned back, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. Each thrust was deliberate and deep, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that made your moans escape in desperate gasps. His rhythm was steady but unyielding, the force of his movements driving you closer to the edge.

With every thrust, Sam’s breathing grew more ragged, and his hands moved to explore your body with increasing fervor. His fingertips traced the curves of your waist, sliding over the skin, and then gripping your hips tighter as he drove into you with a raw intensity. The sound of your mingled gasps and his grunts filled the room, blending with the steady rhythm of his thrusts.

“You feel so fucking good,” Sam growled, his voice husky with lust. He pulled you down closer to him, forcing you to grind against him with each thrust. The friction was nearly unbearable, pushing you further into a state of blissful abandon.

You tilted your head back, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on. His relentless pace, combined with the way he moved you against him, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each movement seemed to amplify the pleasure, making your senses blur.

In the midst of it all, Sam's grip on your hips became almost bruising, his control over you complete. “Take it,” He repeated, his voice more of a growl now. “Come on, show me why your my Star.”

The room seemed to close in around you, filled with the heady mix of your moans and his labored breaths. With every thrust, every claim, Sam pushed you closer to the brink, the overwhelming intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sensation.

He pressed his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he gripped your hips, guiding your movements with a firm, rhythmic pressure. The sensation of his thrusts grew more intense, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Another high-pitched whine escaped your lips as he quickened his pace, driving you wild with pleasure. The coil in your stomach tightened, a growing pressure that made your breaths come in gasps.

"Sam," you moaned, your voice trembling as you leaned in close, your words brushing against his ear. The sound of your moan fueled his desire, making him push even harder. He continued to drive into you, his pace relentless and urgent. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and on the brink. He increased his pace, thrusting in and out of you with a forceful rhythm that seemed to drown out your pleas. Your hand found its place on his shoulder, using it for support as you bounced harder against him. He slapped your ass once more, the sting sharp but electrifying, urging you to move faster.

Finally, a wave of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably. You let out a loud, guttural moan, your body quivering as you rode the crest of your orgasm. Sam, breathing heavily, pulled out just in time, his groans mixing with yours as he released beneath you.

He stayed seated, his grip on your hips firm but gentle as he helped you steady yourself. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and sex. You could feel the residual warmth of his release against your skin, adding a final layer to the heady afterglow of your climax.

Sam’s breathing slowly returned to normal as he gazed up at you with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender after the raw intensity of moments before.

Sam's eyes, still dark with lust, softened as he looked up at you. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, his touch a stark contrast to the earlier roughness. The room was filled with the heavy, lingering scent of sweat and sex, adding a tangible weight to the shared silence that followed.

He drew you closer, his hands still resting lightly on your hips, as if trying to anchor both of you in the moment of calm that had followed the storm of passion. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. "You’re incredible," Sam murmured, his voice rough yet softened by the vulnerability of the moment. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort but finding only a shared, profound connection.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that contrasted sharply with the intense passion of moments before. It was a kiss filled with gratitude and lingering affection, a silent acknowledgment of the intensity you had both just experienced. As you pulled back slightly, you caught his eye again, the playful glint in your eyes hinting at the aftermath of your shared moment. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whispered, your voice soft but carrying a hint of warmth and appreciation.

You straightened yourself, feeling the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. As you glanced around for your dress, you noticed Sam searching for his pants, his movements slightly disheveled but purposeful.

You both quickly dressed in a hurried but careful manner, the intimacy of the moment gradually giving way to a more practical reality. The once intense atmosphere began to shift back to its previous state, leaving behind a sense of quiet aftermath.

Sam glanced at you as he adjusted his clothes, his expression a mix of contemplation and relief. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone softening as he approached you.

You nodded, offering a small, appreciative smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Sam nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of concern. “Good.”

You both finished dressing and took a moment to collect yourselves, the raw intensity of the night transitioning into a more subdued, reflective mood. As you met his eyes once more, you both silently acknowledged the depth of what had transpired, understanding that this was something you both needed to get out of your systems.

Sam’s sudden shift in demeanor caught you off guard. The assertive, dominating presence he had moments ago was replaced with a more detached, almost clinical air. “We’re adults,” he said, his tone steady but marked with a finality that felt almost cold. “This was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again.”

You looked at him, surprised by how abruptly he’d distanced himself from the intimacy you’d shared. Despite the sudden shift, you kept your composure, masking the inner turmoil. “Agreed. Sometimes things just… happen. Let’s move on from this.”

His gaze softened slightly, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “Right. Let’s just put it behind us and focus on what’s ahead.”

With a final, measured nod, you both moved towards the door, each of you ready to face the next chapter with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose, the unexpected turn of events leaving a quiet undercurrent of unresolved tension.

You walked up the stairs, the echoes of your footsteps filling the quiet house. Each step felt heavy, as if the night’s events had added an extra weight to your every movement. Your mind was still racing, trying to process Sam’s sudden shift and the finality of his words.

As you reached your bedroom, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room felt almost serene compared to the chaos you had just experienced. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of comfort and normalcy, but it did little to ease the confusion that lingered in your mind.