Chapter 25 #2
She grins—not her polite public smile but the wicked curve that makes my blood surge—and raises her arms. The sweater slides off to reveal deep purple lace that matches the toy waiting on the counter, a million degrees more bold and sexy than the plain basics I’d seen her in previously.
“This was definitely premeditated.”
“I’m a planner.” She reaches for my belt. “Problem with that?”
“Absolutely none.”
My hands find the lace, tracing its edges while she attacks my buckle with enthusiasm that has me widening my stance.
We shed the rest of our clothes in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the small space forcing us to press together with every movement.
Her skin burns against mine even before the water touches us.
“Shower,” she gasps, fumbling behind her.
We tumble through the glass door. Hot water slams into us, and Sophie’s squeak transforms into a moan that shoots straight to my already aching cock. Water streams down her body, turning her into something out of every fantasy I’ve ever had.
“How do you want?—”
She cuts me off by pushing me against the tile. The cold shock against my back contrasts sharply with her heat pressing against my front. “Everything,” she says, water running over her lips. “I want to try everything with you, Mike, until you break.”
“We’ve got all night.”
“Good.” She grabs the shower gel, squirting a generous amount into her palm. The scent of her body wash—that same clean floral that always clings to her skin—fills the space as she spreads it across my chest in slow, deliberate circles. “Better be a promise.”
Instead of answering, I drop to my knees. The tile bites into my kneecaps, but her gasp makes every discomfort worthwhile. Water cascades over us as I press my mouth to her inner thigh, taking my time, reacquainting myself with every sensitive spot.
“Mike, please…”
“Patience.” I nip at the crease where thigh meets hip, feel her whole body jerk.
Her frustrated whimper becomes a broken moan when I finally give her what she wants. One long stroke of my tongue against her clit, and her hands tangle in my wet hair hard enough to sting. She tastes like heaven and sin and every dream that’s kept me awake these past weeks.
“There,” she gasps, hips rolling against my mouth. “Right there, don’t?—”
I don’t stop. I feast on her, using every trick I learned that first night plus everything I’ve imagined since. When I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, her knees buckle. My free hand pins her hips to the wall while I continue my assault, feeling her clench around my fingers.
“The vibrator,” she manages between ragged breaths. “Want to show you how?—”
My hand finds it on the shelf where she must have placed it. Waterproof, because of course Sophie thinks of everything. The buzz barely reaches my ears over the water, but the vibration against my palm promises so much more than that.
“Show me,” I say against her skin. “Show me exactly how you use it when you think of me.”
She looks down at me, water clinging to her lashes, cheeks flushed with arousal and maybe embarrassment. But then she takes the toy and brings it to her clit. Her eyes flutter closed and I can see stress and fatigue flee her body instantly.
“Eyes open.” The command comes out rougher than intended. “I want to see you.”
She forces her eyes open, holding my gaze as she circles the vibrator in tight patterns.
I match her rhythm with my fingers, learning what makes her breath catch, what makes her whole body tremble.
The trust in her eyes—letting me see her like this, vulnerable and chasing pleasure—tightens something in my chest.
“I think about you,” she admits, words tumbling between moans. “When I use this alone. Think about that night, about your mouth, your hands…”
“Tell me more.”
“I think about…” Her teeth catch her lower lip.
“Tell me.”
“Think about you bending me over my desk. Making me stay quiet while you— fuck ?—”
Her confession cuts off as she comes apart above me. I watch, mesmerized, as pleasure washes over her face. The vibrator slips from her fingers, clattering against the tile. Neither of us moves to retrieve it, although I’ve got the funny feeling we’re not done with it yet.
I stand slowly, knees protesting, and catch her as she sways. “That was…”
“The beginning,” she says breathlessly, then her hand wraps around my cock.
Before I can respond, she’s spinning me so my back hits the wall again. The tile’s cold bite fades against the heat of her exploration. She takes her time, hands mapping every ridge of muscle while her mouth follows the path of water down my chest.
“I’ve imagined this too,” she says, stroking me with a grip that blurs my vision. “Wondered what you’d look like when you completely let go.”
“Sophie…”
“Show me.” She steps back just enough to maintain eye contact while keeping her hand moving. “I want to watch you lose control.”
There’s something intensely erotic about her bold demand, the way she studies me like I’m some masterpiece she’s trying to memorize. I wrap my hand around hers, guiding her rhythm, unable to look away from the hunger in her eyes as she works.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice drops low.
“You.” The word scrapes from my throat. “Always you.”
“Be specific.” She tightens her grip, and I brace against the wall.
“That first night. How you looked spread out on your bed, so goddamned perfect I forgot how to breathe. The sounds you made when I was inside you. How tight you were. How perfectly you fit against me.”
She presses closer, her free hand tracing patterns on my chest. “What else?”
“I think about having you everywhere. Against my apartment door because I can’t wait. On my kitchen counter while dinner burns. In my bed for hours until neither of us can form words.” The fantasies spill out uncensored. “Everywhere.”
“Mike…” Her breathing matches mine now, ragged and desperate.
“I think about waking up with you. Making you come before you’re fully conscious. Hearing my name while you’re still half-asleep. Everything, everywhere, all the time, for as long as you’ll let me.”
She gasps, her hand moving faster. “I want you inside me right now.”
“Condom,” I manage, because apparently some part of my brain still functions.
“Bedroom. Top drawer.”
We exit the shower, leaving puddles across her bathroom floor, but neither of us cares. I follow her to the bedroom, where she tears through the drawer with urgency that matches my own, finally producing a foil packet with a triumphant sound that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.
I watch as she rolls it on, and the confident way she handles me makes my chest tight with something deeper than lust. “How do you?—”
She cuts me off by backing me toward the wall. Apparently vertical surfaces are becoming our thing, not that I’m complaining. Wordlessly, she hooks one leg around my hip, arms circling my neck. I lift her easily, her back against the wall, both legs locked around my waist.
And when I slide into her, we both freeze.
It’s deeper this way, more intense, her body taking me perfectly.
“Oh,” she breathes, nails biting into my shoulders. “That’s…”
Words abandon me. All I can do is hold her steady and fight the urge to lose it immediately. She uses the wall for leverage, rolling her hips in a way that whites out my vision. Her tightness. Her wetness. Her. It’s a combination so perfect that it destroys me.
“The vibrator,” she pants. “Can you?—”
I’m confused for a second, then I realize she brought it into the bedroom with us. I grab it from the bed, and she shows me exactly where to position it between us. The added sensation makes her eyes roll back, a string of profanity falling from her lips that I file away for later.
“Look at me,” I tell her, echoing my earlier demand. “Need to see you.”
Her eyes snap open, locking onto mine. What I see there stops my heart. Trust, complete and devastating. Want without reservation. Hope without fear. Trust without boundaries. A combination that looks dangerously close to what I feel every time I look at her.
“Mike,” she whispers, and it’s question and answer and prayer all rolled into one.
The vibrator hums between us, adding layers of sensation to every movement. Sophie sets the pace, taking what she needs, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this, Sophie Pearson chasing her pleasure without apology or hesitation.
When she comes, it’s with my name on her lips and her face buried in my neck. Her whole body clenches around me in waves that trigger my own release. The pleasure slams through me with devastating force, making me grateful for the wall’s support because my legs have given up entirely.
“Holy shit,” Sophie breathes against my throat.
I manage something between a grunt and a groan as I carefully lower her feet to the floor, keeping my hands on her waist until her legs look steady. When she looks up at me, she looks triumphant and content and utterly fucking destroyed, and I love it.
“You OK?” My voice sounds wrecked.
“I’m… I don’t know.” She laughs, bright and genuine. “That was incredible.”
“Incredible good or incredible ‘what have I done’?”
“Definitely good.” She kisses me. “Though my neighbors might have opinions.”
“You weren’t that loud.” I brush wet hair back from her face.
“Liar.” But she’s smiling that real smile that transforms her entire face.
“We should probably dry off before we freeze.”
She smirks, and that wicked glint returns to her eyes. “Who says I’m done?”