He squirmed a bit as I said the words, and I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “But I’m like your Dad. I know how much that bothers you. You hate what he does and how he does it.”
I thought about what I’d seen in Samuel, how in three months he had shown me so many layers to his persona, none of which were anything like my Dad. Deep down, I believed Samuel was like me in the sense that he was put into a position where respect and loyalty for family came first, and his own happiness came second. When you are brought up that way, you don’t question your actions until something happens that makes you want to. Samuel had found another kind of direction to take that was different to his Dad, and he wanted to take it, he just didn’t know how.
“Yes, but you are different. I know you’ve been trying to get out but you can’t. I understand. I do. You don’t want to be like your Dad or mine. You would never hurt me or anyone I care about.”
His arms stopped stroking as he listened to me reassure him. “You really believe that Len?”
I trusted my instinct and my instinct told me that Samuel was different. “Yes. I watch you as much as you watch me. I see you Samuel.”
“I hope so.” His voice was low and tentative.
I couldn’t bear the melancholy any more. I didn’t want to think about why we were wrong for each other and what could break us up. I was already very aware of all the things working against us. I needed to stop Samuel dwelling on his thoughts about who he was. I knew he was worried about what I thought about him, and he worried it would push us apart. It amazed me how vulnerable he could be sometimes, especially when he was perceived as such a strong masculine enforcer in his family circle. You can never tell what is underneath with some people. Samuel was a good example of the phrase, ‘never judge a book by its cover’. If you were to look at him, you would probably see a very strong and muscular, womanizing meathead, but underneath that exterior, was a deep and dark sensitivity and emotion that was looking for something more. I loved that I was the lucky one who got to see it. It made me want to make him smile, any way I could.
“Sam...u…el,” I said as sweetly as I could sound. He could tell I wanted something. His eyes shot up to my voice that was already laced with mischief. His mood immediately brightened. He enjoyed playtime.
“Hmmm, yes...” he drew out with that rough yet smooth voice of his.
“Did you bring Cherry over tonight?” I got up so I could sit next to him.
He grinned at me. “I did.” His eyes glistened in the moonlight as I then straddled him on the bed, swaying my hips.
“I was wondering...” My hands started to rub his chest, already coaxing him to give me the answer I wanted.
“Yeeeeees!” His grin was crooked as he listened to me moan between my teeth. I pushed my body up against him, and I felt him getting aroused.
“Can I take her for a spin tonight?” I continued my rubbing up against his body. Cherry was Samuel’s Mustang. His ‘hot-as-fuck’ Mustang which very few people were allowed to drive. On our first outing together we listened to Cherry Bomb by the Runaways on full volume as we sped around the city, and after that, I took it upon myself to name her. Samuel didn’t mind. He thought it was a fitting name. I think at the time he hoped to pop my cherry too.
“Do you think you can handle my stick?” he joked. Samuel had a dirty mind, and when he let it show, I liked it. I wasn’t a complete angel and enjoyed a bit of naughty banter.
“I can handle your stick.” My hand slipped into Samuel’s pants and I began stroking him.
Samuel closed his eyes at the sensation of my hand around him, stroking him and making him harder. He opened his eyes and moaned, “I love you.”
My hand froze mid-stroke. Love?
“I’m sorry?” I asked, shocked that he had said those three words and that he had chosen this moment to say them. Samuel looked at me like he had been caught out and that the words had left his body without his control.