8. Bram
8
brAM
I know what I’m going to see when I pick up my phone.
Maybe it’s Sophie’s sudden tension or the way she whipped around to stare at the device with round eyes, panic rolling off her in waves. Maybe I’m just a hopeful old fool, besotted with a woman slipping further from my grasp with each passing day.
A good man would have stepped away and let it happen.
A good man would have valued his daughter’s feelings over his own.
A good man would have been happy when she found happiness, even in the arms of someone else.
There were so many opportunities for me to stop this thing in its tracks, for me to be that good man. I didn’t. The desire I feel for her is, and always has been, a wild, furious force beyond my control. Even as I fought, it’s grown stronger and stronger, and, still raw from the horror of this afternoon, my willpower is in tatters.
It would be easier to drive across the city in this storm than stop myself from reaching for my phone. The screen lights up as I lift it, displaying a familiar pink icon and the notification: You have a new YUM match!
“Bram.” I look up to find Sophie on her feet, gazing at me from across the room, brilliant eyes wide with horror. She’s scared, but I’m not. Not anymore. The moment I heard the noise—which could have been from any number of things—relief unlike any I’ve known before washed over me.
It’s not all in my head. I’m not alone in this, and the certainty is like the first lungful of air after staying underwater for too long.
She wants me—has wanted me for a long time—and the thought of my bold, funny, brilliant girl, feeling any of the torture I’ve endured is unbearable. Pieces of the puzzle that is Sophie Nelson have fallen into place for me tonight. The pastor’s rejected daughter aches for a place to belong, for people to belong to.
I can give her that, and I won’t make her wait another second.
My phone hits the countertop with a clatter, and then I’m rounding the island, sucking in oxygen that does nothing to satisfy the burning in my chest.
“Bram,” Sophie says again when I’m halfway across the room, half pleading, half warning. I don’t pause.
“Sophie,” I respond when I’m close enough to touch her, my voice a rough, low rasp, a plea. We both gasp when my hands lift to cradle her face, my skin on her skin, with no excuse or pretense for it other than wanting her. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
Even with all this between us, I give her time to pull away, to end this. It’s not only my life I’m throwing into chaos if we do this and—even if it might kill me to see her walk away—I wouldn’t blame her either.
Sophie doesn’t do that, though. For a second, she stares at me, her chest rising and falling, hands balled into fists at her sides. Then, just like I did a moment ago, she breaks. Slim arms reach up, looping around the back of my neck, and she’s pulling me closer, eyelids heavy, full lips parted and begging to be kissed.
So, I do it.
I fucking kiss her.
I kiss her and it doesn’t feel like our first time, or our third, or our hundredth. Sophie Nelson, the forbidden fruit, the girl I was never supposed to touch, feels like she was created just for me. I was wrong, more wrong than I’ve ever been about anything. Wanting her like this isn’t a punishment, it’s a gift.
I take my time, groaning as her taste invades my senses. It’s as natural as breathing to let my hands fall to the curve of her waist, and for hers to slip down to my chest, one pressed directly above my thundering heart. She’s smaller than me, softer, and holding her is like coming home after a lifetime away. The rest of the world fades to inconsequential nothingness, narrowing down to just us two, lost in each other.
“Bram,” she whispers my name, trembling when we part just for a second, my forehead pressed to hers as we suck in greedy lungfuls of the same air.
I don’t pause long enough for her to second guess. I don’t want to hear that this is a mistake, or that we shouldn’t have done it. For something so wrong, this feels awfully right, and the only thing I’m worried about now is making her realize it too. No more running.
I kiss her again, harder than before, and Sophie arches closer, her hold on me tightening. My teeth graze her bottom lip, making her moan, and it’s the most erotic noise I’ve ever heard. Sophie—my Sophie—moaning from the pleasure I’ve given her, how much I’ve turned her on… If I was an animal before, it’s nothing compared to now.
Maybe I should be trying to slow this down, but I’m so drunk on the feeling of her in my arms, alive and needy for me, my only priority is giving her more—giving her everything. I’m rock hard and ready, more turned on than I can ever remember being. With each passing second, it becomes more apparent that there is no stopping this.
My hands gather fistfuls of the thin tank top she’s wearing, and, unable to stomach parting from her even long enough to pull it over her head, I rip it apart. The sound of fabric tearing fills the quiet room, and Sophie’s gasp turns to another as her bra goes next, leaving her bare to the waist.
Her breasts fit perfectly in my hands and—Jesus Christ—the shit I want to do to them.
I’m so consumed with how good she feels, it’s a surprise when I realize she’s tugging at my shirt, trying to undress me too. In seconds, my shirt is gone, whipped off to God knows where, and Sophie whimpers as my lips crash down on hers, our kiss becoming bruising and hungry. The feeling of her bare skin pressed against mine is enough to throw whatever restraint I was exerting to the wind, and it seems I’m not the only one. We’re out of control.
Her hands move between us, fumbling with the button of my pants, and I groan when it gives way. Sophie’s hand finds my cock, grasping the base, stroking me. “Oh, fuck,” I groan against her lips, thrusting into her touch. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Hold tighter for me.”
She does as she’s told, touching me exactly how I like as I go to work on her borrowed sweatpants. Shoving them down over her hips, I expect to encounter more material, but instead, my fingers brush her bare ass.
Fuck. Yes.
We’re both naked now, and making out frantically, clawing at each other in the middle of my living room. I’m not getting enough oxygen, but breathing doesn’t feel as important as kissing her does. Some part of my brain must be functioning, however, because I manage to turn us, dropping back onto the couch and pulling her with me.
I find myself staring up into bright green eyes framed by tousled, caramel-colored hair. The woman of my dreams is straddling my thighs, her bare cunt only inches from my cock.
Everything will change after this. Thank God. I want it to.
Slick, bare skin greets my fingers as I press my hand between her legs, grinding the heel of my palm over her clit. She’s absolutely dripping, and the knowledge that it’s all for me goes straight to my dick. The whiny little noises she’s making are beyond sexy, and—fuck—I can’t remember the last time I was this hard. Dimly, I realize I should slow this down, should get her ready for me, but the promise of relief is only inches away and after showing restraint for so long, I’m too far gone to hold back now.
I need to fill her.
Panting into my mouth, Sophie lifts up on her knees, giving me room to fist my base, guiding the tip through the lips of her wet little pussy.
“Tell me you want it,” I grunt against her lips, my jaw clenched and my balls throbbing with how fucking full they are.
The woman in my arms shudders, nodding even before she finds the words. “I want it,” Sophie gasps, rolling her hips, trying to get me inside her. “Please, Bram. I need you?—”
There will be plenty of times I’ll make her beg, but this won’t be one of them.
“I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart,” I promise, and we break apart, staring between us as I guide my swollen tip to her tight opening. The last time I had sex without a condom was decades ago, but stopping this to look for one is unthinkable .
The feeling of slick, hot walls clinging to the head of my cock, quickly drives away all common sense. I’m only an inch inside her, and this is already the best sex of my life.
“Bram,” Sophie breathes, and I tear my eyes up to her face. Her lips are parted, eyebrows knitted together in shock as she presses slowly down. “It’s so big, holy shit.”
I can’t bring myself to be sorry about that.
“You can take it.” My hands lift to her tits, teasing her rosy nipples harder than I probably should as she struggles to adjust to my size. “Sit on my cock, little girl.”
It’s torture. Exquisite, mind-numbing torture. If it weren’t for her head injury, I would have her on her back by now, bearing down on the hot, slick hole she’s been hiding between those thighs. Fuck me—I shouldn’t be turned on by being too old for her, but I am. This woman could have anyone she wanted, but she’s moaning my name, her fingers biting into my shoulders as she tries to fit my dick inside her.
I’m the luckiest man on the goddamn planet, and I’ll never forget it.
“You’re doing great.” It’s the same tone I’ve used while praising her performance at work, and judging by the sharp gasp I hear in response, she hasn’t missed it. Reaching up, I pull her face to mine, kissing her gently once, twice, before pulling away and speaking in a quiet, soothing murmur. “Do you want me to show you how I like this, sweetheart?”
Wetness flows over my dick, still only half inside her, and Sophie nods eagerly, eyes wide and breaths coming in choppy pants. “Yes, please,” she breathes, squirming in my lap.
My hands settling on her hips is the only warning she gets. Seconds later, her cry breaks the silence of the house as I pull her down, filling her with everything I have to give.
“Bram,” Sophie whimpers, instinctively trying to lift off, but I hold her down on my lap.
“Shhh,” I coo, kissing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. “ Relax. Deep breaths. I haven’t given you anything you can’t handle.”
A reluctant, breathy giggle greets my words. “You might have, but—oh!” The undoubtedly sassy remark I was about to get turns to a sigh as I press one hand between us, working her clit.
The sight of this alone would be enough fantasy material to last the rest of my life. Sophie Nelson, totally naked and straddling my lap, impaled on my cock. This won’t be the end, though. It can’t be. With every second that passes, every kiss, every noise she makes, I’m falling harder.
I don’t care what it takes. I won’t stop until this woman is as gone for me as I am for her.
When she starts rocking into my touch, I know she’s ready for more. Taking her hand from my shoulder, I kiss the delicate skin of her inner wrist and guide it between us, replacing my fingers with her own. “Rub your clit for me.”
Sophie smirks as my hands grip her waist. “Yes, Mr. Vogel.”
“If you can tease me, I’m not fucking you hard enough.”
Both of us suck in a sharp breath as she allows me to guide her up until only my tip is inside her, then drag her back down. We find a slow, deliberate rhythm, and my balls are already drawn up tight, ready to unload. Sophie is close though, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, and I stare between us, watching her rub herself desperately.
“Bram, it’s so good, holy shit.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and I watch as she falls apart.
Sophie Nelson coming on my dick may be the best thing I’ve ever seen. Her whole body goes taught, her inner muscles tightening around me as the first wave of pleasure hits her. I fuck her from below, a sloppy, wet noise now punctuating each thrust.
I groan, fighting my own orgasm. I’m not ready for this to be over yet. “You get so wet when you come,” I mumble, dragging her lips back to mine as she collapses in my lap, boneless and panting. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
“Bram.” Her teeth graze my bottom lip.
But whatever she was going to say falters as an obnoxious beeping fills the room and we break apart, looking around for the source.
It’s the timer for the fucking risotto.
“Jesus Christ,” I growl, furious beyond belief at being interrupted for such a shitty fucking reason. I’m not pulling out of her. No goddamn way. Gathering her close, I push to my feet, filled with smug, male satisfaction as Sophie squeals in surprise. She clings to me as I cross the room, her cunt clutching at my length, her arousal dripping onto my thighs.
It only takes a few seconds to hit end on the timer and shove the pan off the burner. Rounding the island, I set her on one of the stools, which puts her pussy at the perfect height to take my cock. Wrapping one arm around her waist and bracing my other on the counter behind her, I set a furious rhythm, pounding into her sloppy, wet cunt as she clings to me, crying out each time the tip of my dick brushes her G-spot.
“You feel fucking incredible,” I hiss, slowing my pace in an attempt to make this last longer. It’s been too damn long, though, and the sensations of taking her without a condom are too damn good.
Sophie moans in response, rolling her hips to meet mine, her fingers buried in my hair. “I can’t believe how good this is. Oh god, I think I was doing sex wrong.”
A rough chuckle is ripped from my chest, and I lean forward to kiss her shoulder, feeling her cheek curve against mine as I do. The knowledge she’s as affected by what is unfolding between us as I am makes me even more desperate to make this last. Without giving her any indication of what I’m planning, I withdraw completely, leaving her empty.
Sophie’s indignant cry turns to a moan as I sink to my knees in front of the stool and bury my face between her legs. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and she bucks against me as I drag my tongue over her swollen clit.
“There you go,” I mumble as I plunge two fingers into her pussy, and she begins to shake, the volume of her cries increasing. My cock is throbbing and leaking pre-cum as I work her closer to the edge. The temptation to jerk myself off is strong, but Sophie grinding her dripping cunt on my face is turning me on just as much as fucking her was, and the only place my cum is going is inside her.
Above me, my new lover is shaking, her breaths coming in gasping sobs, and I know what she needs. Bringing my fingers up to circle her swollen bud, I roll to my feet, and Sophie’s legs wrap around my hips, giving me room to guide my cock back to her slick opening.
The moment I bottom out, she breaks. With a hoarse sob of pleasure, her inner muscles tighten greedily around my dick, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t pull out. Seconds after she reaches her peak, I follow, coming with a roar as I unload inside her, coating her inner walls with my release.
It’s so intense I can barely breathe, never mind think. As the pleasure drains away and I come back to myself, however, I still can’t find the words.
Ecstatic triumph is warring with apprehension and worry. I’m afraid of what I’ll see in Sophie’s face when I finally meet her eyes. What just happened between us was, to me, transcendent. It changed me, and the thought of her regretting or dismissing it…
Lifting my forehead from her shoulder, my heart stalls as I meet a pair of wide, brilliant green eyes. My cock is still inside her, softening, as Sophie finally speaks.
“Oh, crap.”