12. Sofia
12
SOFIA
B irdie and I are full-blown in the middle of her project. She has recorded a lot of content to sift through, and she’s done some really good rough edits, and I like the quirky style. It suits her. And her art.
And man, her art. Birdie has talent. Especially at eleven. I can tell she’s spent a long time perfecting her craft because it’s beautiful. Surreal and colorful, with strong and confident brush strokes. The texture… I would love to put her paintings up in my house.
I hug her to my side after looking over it one more time. “You are brilliant. I’m so proud of you.”
Birdie’s grin and matching blush endear me even more to her. We’ve spent a lot of time over the last two weeks together, and if I learned one thing, it’s that she’s special and needs a friend. I don’t know how she doesn’t have a horde of girls trying to be her friend.
I mean… I do. I was that girl, too, quirky and creative and always just on the outside of a group. Girls can be mean at her age.
“Let me show you some options for refining this. Okay? Making sure there’s always movement is a big one. You don’t want the screen to be static unless you’re trying to draw attention to it. So use that sparingly. The rest can be snipped away a little at a time until everything smooths out.”
She nods, eyes bright, and we start at the beginning, snipping and cutting before I leave her to the embellishments.
Before the weekend is over, we have a few completed videos and all the means of uploading them. Now, we only need her father’s approval. I won’t let her post without it.
Birdie is so good about it, though, and we’ve been discussing a plan for her to convince him. It’s all on her now.
Noah’s already asleep up on the spare bed where we’ve been staying while Brax has been gone. God, it’s still odd to call him that, but I enjoy the way his eyes darken when I do.
And Birdie is right behind him, down for more than an hour before he texts me that he’s nearly home.
I’ve been lounging on the couch with a glass of wine and an old movie on the television. I’m not really watching, but the background noise is nice. Turning to the sound of the door opening, I see Brax peek into the living room from the front entryway.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and rumbly.
“Hi.”
“Everyone asleep?” His duffle bag drops to the floor with a muted thump before he’s moving toward the couch and lowering himself beside me. “Everything go alright?”
I smile. “Yes, and yes.”
The way Brax sinks into the couch tells me he’s had a long weekend, but it also shows off the long, languid line of his body—broad chest, flat, wide stomach, strong legs. God, he’s a brickhouse of a man. And so at ease in his body.
Biting my lip, I turn back to the TV. “Did it go that badly?”
He laughs softly. “No. It went well. Just a long weekend.”
“Too many people?”
A sigh. “Yes.”
My chuckle turns his head my way, and his eyes are dark and nearly bottomless as I say, “I’m good around people. But only for a little while. Then, I need to come home and recharge. Usually by watching a movie.”
“Hence the old Western on my flatscreen?”
“Maybe. I like the background noise.” Taking another sip of my wine sits him back up. “Did you want a glass?”
“I can grab it.” Brax rubs his face with both hands, and it’s obvious he’s exhausted, so I get up to pour him one.
When he looks up at me, a powerful wave of lust zaps through me. For a few seconds, I consider crawling into his lap but think better of it and slide back into my cushion beside him.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
We sit in silence, only filled in with the rumbling of horse hooves on screen. The tension that builds isn’t one of discomfort. It’s lazy and warm.
I have to distract myself. “You know, Birdie and I finished a few videos this weekend on her art. I think you’ll be impressed when you see what she’s done.”
“Finished how?
“Edited and polished, but not posted. I wouldn’t let her until she talked to you about it, but I have to say, she’s excited about what she’s accomplished. And I’m proud of her.”
A grin crawls across his face—a very fatherly one. “Yeah. Me, too. I don’t even need to see them to know I’m proud.”
He takes a long sip of his wine, draining nearly half of it.
“She’s going to talk me into letting her post them, isn’t she?”
“That’s the plan. I do suggest watching them. I know she’s only eleven, but it’s tasteful and it’s focused on her art—not her.” Not that the lack of screen time for her personally will keep the hateful comments at bay. That’s the nature of the internet, unfortunately.
“I’m afraid of the trolls crushing her spirit. You know how sensitive she is. What her school life is like.” The worry in his features is sweet.
“They’ll always be there, but the support and love she’ll get will outweigh it tenfold. She can also disable the ability to comment, but I’d wait on that. I’m sure she’s going to get so much love with what she’s created.”
A shake of his head shows off his defeat. “She’s prepared for it all?”
“I think so. And if not, turn the comments off and call me. I’ll come over and help turn things around.” I reach out to touch his arm in reassurance.
The way he looks at me sears my insides. “You really would, wouldn’t you?”
I nod, searching for why that should surprise him.
“You know. As hard as I’ve tried, I can’t seem to fill the hole her mom left.” An immense weight seems to hunch his shoulders.
“You’re doing great with her.”
“Thanks.” He drains the last of his wine, and I sip on mine, nearly splashing it with how abruptly he sits up.
Brax takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the side table to his right before turning back to me, one big hand taking the ends of my hair between his fingers. “Am I deluding myself, or do you feel this?”
Breath freezes in my lungs. My bottom lip pinches between my teeth.
His gaze homes in on my mouth for a few long seconds before lifting to meet mine. He’s tipped forward a few inches. “This tension. Is it in my head?”
I shake my head, my near silent no all I can manage against my better judgment.
Brax sinks a hand in my hair and drops his mouth over mine, a light press, then another, before he tilts my face for better access.
I’m lost to the sensation. The hunger. My fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and pull him closer. Need surges me forward, slipping my touch up the side of his neck.
Then, I’m drowning in heat, his mouth devouring mine with his own desire.
I haven’t been kissed like this in ages. Years.
When he presses me back in a little test, I willingly go, letting him lean me into the throw pillow behind me.
God, he’s so big that he actually makes me feel dainty.
But his kiss, the slide of tongue and teeth, makes me feel like a goddess. I draw my knee up his side, and the groan he rewards me with turns me molten.
Those big hands explore my body, cupping my ribs and waist, squeezing my hips and lifting me against his very evident and very hard length. The knowledge that I’ve done that to him makes me bold, boosts my confidence.
Sinking my fingers into his hair and tightening my grip earns me another low, grumbling noise of pleasure from the back of his throat, and his mouth drops to plant kisses, lick, and suck at my neck.
His grip shifts to envelop my breast in his palm. I have to bite back the whine it elicits.
The way he grabs at me has me burning up.
Finally, I let myself spread my palms over his shoulders and arms, exploring all of that glorious muscle and strength.
I gasp softly as his mouth travels down the skin across my chest, his hand drawing the loose hem of my plunging neckline aside and his thumb finding my hard nipple through the thin fabric of my bra.
My back arches, knees tightening around his hips.
“Fuck, Soph.” I swear he sounds half-drunk. “You’re like a fucking drug.”
And his hand is under my bra, squeezing before pinching and pulling at my nipple. My whine makes him shudder. I have to bite into the base of my palm as he slowly tortures me with a few soft plucks of that hard tip.
The other side of my shirt and bra exposes my other breast, and this time, his hot mouth surrounds my flesh, sucking hard until my panties are so drenched, there's no hiding how turned on I am. I mean, my shameless little moves have me humping his rock-hard stomach, so I’m not being subtle.
When he releases my breast and hovers over me again, I feel like prey fallen under a predator’s paw. I’m just waiting for him to pounce.
Brax kisses me again, hunger turned into a slow, all-consuming thing. A dangerous thing. There’s not a lot I would say no to right now. So when his touch travels down the center of my body and rubs over my mound, all I can do is grind into his hand.
“I want to touch you,” he says against my swollen mouth.
“You already are.”
His head shake is slow and deadly. “No. I want to slide my hand under those shorts, play with all of that delicious wetness between your thighs, and fuck you with my fingers until you come.”
Need crashes through me, making me nod before I can form the words. “Yes. Please.”
His grunt is almost a growl as he follows through with his threat, his hand slipping under my shorts to find me bare beneath, drawing his fingers through the slick of my folds, pressing on my clit as he rubs me. He doesn’t go any further until I’m writhing against his hand, silently begging him for what I need.
For what he promised me.
He teases me with it until the subtle shift of his wrist sinks a lone finger into my pussy. I’m shaking from the satisfaction of finally having part of him inside me, but it’s not enough.
The slow glide is not enough. He’s too patient, too ready to tease and test me. But I’m fire, and I need to be fully consumed.
His hot mouth murmurs in my ear, and I swear I can hear his Scottish ancestry in the soft words. A lilt not usually present in his voice is evident even as he growls.
Pulling all the way out has me half crying out with protest, but he silences me with his mouth before a second finger joins the first, swirling around my entrance before they curve into me. The stretch of his big digits burns me with pleasure.
Thank God his mouth is covering mine because he finds a spot that shuts my thoughts down and has my core clamping.
Brax doubles down, plunging into my core with purpose and eating my moans. The back of my brain screams to keep quiet, but I’m lost to the pleasure.
As he builds me up, the quiet around us sinks into my labored breaths and the wet slide of his fingers thrusting into me. I can’t help myself, lifting my head to watch him plunging into me. My waistband opens in a triangle around his wrist. The tattoos there pop to life along his forearm.
It’s hot as hell.
Braxton presses his thumb over my clit, a steady pressure that sinks his fingers deeper, seeking and tapping until I bury my face in his shoulder. Pleasure has my thighs trembling. And he’s pushing further. Nudging.
I bite down on him to muffle my cry as I come. He groans in my ear, fingers sinking to their hilt inside me as I pulse and writhe over him. Every little movement pangs against that sensitive pleasure.
When he pulls out of me, I feel the loss of it, wanting more but sure I can’t handle it right now. I lean back and look up at him, unable to keep the sight of his erection from the corner of my vision.
“Beautiful. I like the way you come.”
I laugh softly, and his mouth is on mine again, slower, lazier, like he doesn’t expect anything else from me. It makes me feel powerful, and I want to reciprocate.
His body goes stiff, hard, tensing as my fingers dance down the front of him. He’s not wearing a belt, so it’s easy for me to slip past his fly and grab ahold of him.
Brax’s face dips into my neck and his groan vibrates against my throat as I stroke him slowly. His cock pulses in my hand, and I’m surprised by how on edge he is, spreading the precum from his tip down his length.
Then, his hips start moving with my hand. God, has it been as long for him as it has for me?
The noises that leak out of him tangle around my bare skin as they get dirtier and gruffer.
“Fuck. Soph…” Brax grunts against me. “I’m going to come.”
I turn my face to his. His kiss is messy, a bit unhinged as I push him over that edge. Warmth spurts over my bare tits and chest until he’s shaking with the effort to keep himself hovering over me.
He presses a sweet kiss over my mouth this time, hand cradling the back of my head and lingering for a moment before he pulls back. “Let me get something to clean you up.”
Biting back my laugh, I nod and completely fail at suppressing my blush as his gaze roves over my cum-covered tits like I’m a delicacy.