9. Sophie
9
SOPHIE
“ S o that, um, happened?”
Understatement of the century. It’s kind of still happening because my lack of panties has led to Bram’s cum leaking freely down my inner thighs. Also, it feels kind of like somebody smacked me in the vagina, because I am sore. And panicking, because this is so obviously a panic-worthy situation.
How the fuck did I go from determinedly moving on, to swiping right on my best friend’s father, to riding his giant dick on the couch in under five minutes? I wanted it, too. Like, would have let him do anything he wanted to me level, wanted it. From the moment Bram Vogel put his hands on me, common sense left the building, and my inner hoe came out to play.
Bram stares at me, utterly calm as he portions risotto out onto two plates. Shirtless, because he tore my tank top to shreds and gave me his T-shirt to wear instead. “Stop freaking out.” He opens a drawer to take out forks, calm as can be.
The noise this comment elicits is somewhere between hysterical shriek and hysterical sob. Lots of hysteria, either way.
“Bram,” I plead, glancing toward the back deck where snow appears to have built up another few inches in the time it took him to pump me full of Honor’s would-be brothers and sisters. There’s no way I’m getting out of here tonight, and the last thing I need is to be tempted to go for round two. “That was a really, really bad idea that cannot happen again.”
He looks up at me, a plate in each hand. “It’s going to happen again.” Ignoring my disbelieving hiss, he rounds the counter and sets our dinner on the breakfast nook table. Then, realizing I’m too busy gaping at him to follow, he turns to look at me sternly. “You need to eat something, Sophie.”
My shoulders sag, and for lack of a better plan, I pad across the kitchen. My stomach growls as I plop down before one of the steaming plates. “It can’t happen again. Ever.”
Taking the place across from me, Bram unfolds his napkin and sets itin his lap. As if we’re at a freaking dinner meeting and I’m not on the verge of a mental break. “Why not?”
I gape at him. “Honor! E&V!”
He frowns. “Honor is a grown woman who cares deeply for both of us and wants us to be happy. I’m sure there will be a period of adjustment, but in the long run?—”
“A period of adjustment? Bram!” I splutter, and—forgetting the several dozen stitches along the back of my scalp in the wake of this far more pressing turn of events—let my head drop back against the wall behind me. “Ow!” My hand flies up as pain shoots through my skull, and Bram is on his feet in an instant, rounding the table.
My attempts to wave him away are ignored, and I let my chin drop, allowing him to examine the still throbbing back of my head. “You’re okay. Please be careful, Sophie. Fuck.”
I look up again, and immediately regret it, because I’m able to meet his gray eyes as he curls a big, warm hand around the back of my neck and leans forward to kiss my temple.
In response, my heart performs what could only be described as a drunken jig.
Apparently satisfied I’m not going to bleed all over his kitchen floor (which looks way beyond my pay grade to replace) Bram straightens up and returns to his seat across from me. He picks up his fork and glances up to meet my shell-shocked expression with a wry smile. “I believe you were scolding me.”
“Right. Thank you.” I pick up my fork, too, because I am super freaking hungry. This proves to be a mistake when my first taste is the single best thing I’ve ever eaten. It’s a struggle to maintain the pretense of being unimpressed as I swallow and immediately dive for another bite. “Okay. So. This is not going to happen again for a lot of reasons, and I need you to get on board. Can we not agree the potential complications aren’t worth it?”
Bram smirks, looking annoyingly attractive as he leans back, his bare chest drawing my dumb eyeballs down like magnets. “How is it?”
I blink. “Um. It was… satisfying? I’m not sure what you’re looking for here. You were there, you know I came like three times. Isn’t that a good enough performance review?”
My heart does that super annoying dance thing again when Bram’s face splits into a huge, effortless grin. “I was referring to the risotto, Sophie. Though I’ll happily accept the positive ‘performance review’ instead.”
Judging by the heat rushing to my face, I’m blushing. Just to give myself something to do other than stammer at him, I dive for another bite of the regrettably incredible food. “It’s okay,” I lie, mouth full of risotto, just as more of his cum leaks out of me. Straightening up, I glare at him. “So. As I was going to say. No sex. ”
“You swiped right, Sophie. Doesn’t that indicate you’re open to pursuing an intimate relationship?” Bram muses, eyes bright and mischievous.
Oh my god. I really want to throw something at his face. How is he not the least bit worried about what’s going to come from this? I grit my teeth, annoyed that I can’t work up any genuine anger. “We pursued it. That’s what just happened. We tried it. It was fun, but an objectively horrible idea, and said ‘intimate relationship’ has been terminated. Capiche?”
Bram takes another bite of food and takes his time swallowing. “I disagree,” he says after a long pause, setting his fork down to give me his full attention. “I’m not sure about you, but I checked quite a few boxes on that app. While the sex we just had was immensely satisfying, I, for one, think we should honor the spirit of the YUM app and explore quite a bit more. After all, I doubt either of us will encounter another ninety-four percent match anytime soon.”
Okay, am I getting super wet, or is that just more of his cum?
Both. It’s both.
I have to actively remind myself to breathe. “So that’s all you want from me? Sex?”
Okay, that was not what I was going to say. I was going to tell him I had no interest, ninety-four percent match or not. Somewhere between my brain and my mouth, my vagina (definitely not my heart) took over.
Bram leans forward, his warm brown eyes searching my face. “No,” he says at last. “Actually, I’m going to marry you.”
Everything, from the snow outside to my own heartbeat, seems to slow. “That’s not funny,” I whisper, frantic, because he can’t be serious. “You and I are not an option, Bram. Marrying me isn’t on the menu!”
The man across from me smiles slightly, “We’ll see. ”
Disarmed by his quiet, calm certainty, I let out a groan and my head drops back against the wall. Hard. Again.
“Mother fucking fuck—” I squeal, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing both hands over the back of my violently throbbing skull. Tears are leaking from between my eyelids, and the pain seems to remove whatever stopper I was using to keep my feelings bottled up, because I start crying.
Warm hands gently wrap around my wrists, pulling them apart so Bram can examine my head again. “Come here, Sophie.”
Bottom lip trembling and too emotional to resist, I turn toward the quiet, familiar voice of the man I absolutely shouldn’t be doing any of this with. For the second time today, an arm wraps around my waist while another cradles my legs, and a moment later I’m being lifted against a hard, bare chest.
Bram doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sobbing into his shoulder, my tears soaking his skin. On the contrary, he murmurs gentle, reassuring words to me as he carries me back through the house. I’m not really aware of where we’re going until he’s setting me back against an enormous, fluffy pillow pile.
My eyes snap open and I sniff, looking around Bram’s bedroom as the man himself moves away from me. It’s dark in here, with only the indirect light from the en suite spilling out over the spacious room. A few seconds later, Bram steps out of the bathroom with a glass of water in his hand, crossing back to me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head as I take the offered water with a halfhearted smile. “There’s no way it’s normal to cry this much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You did have a fairly eventful day,” Bram replies calmly, crossing his arms. “Are you feeling better? ”
I nod, and oddly, I really am. To give myself a minute to think, I take a long sip from my glass. How did I get here? One minute I was at work, minding my own business. The next, I’m burying some brand-new trauma, snowed in with Bram, sitting on his bed with stitches in my scalp while wearing his clothes and sporting an ache between my legs from taking his monster cock. Also, he said he was going to marry me.
No wonder I’m a hot mess.
“I should probably go to bed,” I murmur, gazing at the shadowed man above me, trying to ignore the persistent, needy tug below my belly button.
Nodding slowly, Bram draws nearer. “Stay here tonight,” he requests quietly.
The air vanishes from my lungs.
I’m going to say no. Even if my vagina and heart are screaming in opposition to that decision. Staying would be the exact opposite of the point I was trying to make. I can’t do it. It would be such a bad idea.
“Okay,” I hear myself say, and suck in an unsteady breath as Bram reaches out to tilt my chin up, lowering his lips to brush mine.
I melt. In seconds, my arms have looped up around his neck, pulling him closer as we kiss slowly. Bedding rustles beneath me as Bram’s arm winds around my waist, guiding me back onto the soft mattress. Despite the pounding in my skull and earlier proclamation that this could never happen again, my body is already warming for him.
The smug asshole knows it too.
Bram eases me back into the pillows, careful to make sure there’s no direct pressure on my head. His big, hard body is hovering over mine and my breath catches when he sits back on his heels. We watch as he gathers my borrowed T-shirt in both hands, guiding it up over my tummy, breasts, and chest. Hating myself for my weakness but unable to resist, I help him pull the garment over my head, tossing it beside the bed. The sweatpants go next, leaving me naked before him, my legs spread wide.
Blowing out a long, uneven breath, Bram’s eyes rake over me in the semi-darkness. “Are you sore?” he asks at last, and the dark, possessive tone makes the muscles of my inner thighs feel warm and loose.
“Yes,” I whisper, trembling as he presses one hand between my legs, cupping my tender sex. One finger teases my opening, circling and exerting just enough pressure to make me pant. It’s a slow, teasing exploration, one that has me dripping all over his hand in seconds.
Humming in quiet acknowledgement, Bram presses a second finger down, still not penetrating me. “I need to know which boxes you checked on that app, Sophie.” Obviously able to see my deer-in-headlights look, he shakes his head, chuckling quietly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me, sweetheart, I want the same things you do.”
“Have you…” I swallow, shifting restlessly. “Have you done a lot of that stuff before?”
“I have.”
Cue the jealousy. It’s irrational, considering Bram has been sexually active longer than I’ve been alive, and this isn’t supposed to be happening in the first place, but a sour taste fills my mouth at the thought of him touching another woman the way he’s touching me.
Oh, god. This is so bad.
“You’re freaking out again.” Bram bows forward, and I gasp as his lips skim the hollow between my breasts, five o’clock shadow rasping over the delicate skin and raising goosebumps all over my body.
Between us, two fingers slip inside my slick opening, curving to find my G-spot with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. Acting of their own accord, my legs part further, offering him more room to work.
My soft moan shatters the quiet of the darkened room. “Tell me a fantasy, sweetheart,” Bram murmurs, lifting his head to look at me directly. “Tell me what naughty little daydreams you’ve been having about me, and I’ll make them come true.”
“I-I shouldn’t.” It’s a shaky, halfhearted protest, one that’s undermined by my hips rocking into his touch, eager for more.
“Do it anyway.”
A third, thick finger enters me, and I start to tremble. My lips part. “I’ve… I’ve thought about you using my body whenever you wanted.” My pulse thuds heavily in my ears and I struggle to think past what he’s doing to my pussy.
Bram’s hand slows. “Keep going.”
“It turns me on,” I admit quietly, my voice wavering, “being everything you need, being the person who gives you relief.”
The things I’m saying to him have only ever existed in my head. Never have I come close to admitting them out loud to a partner, and here I am, naked and spread out beneath Honor’s dad, telling him I want him to use me freely. God, I’m an asshole.
Even my self-loathing doesn’t dampen the hot twist of desire when Bram pulls his fingers free and brings them to his lips, sucking away my arousal. “Free use is a form of power play,” he tells me at last, hands smoothing over the outside of my thighs to rest on my hips. “Taking on submissive and dominant roles during sex is far from uncommon, sweetheart. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Yeah, tell that to eighteen years of religious trauma and the best friend who will undoubtedly hate my guts if she learns about any of this .
Bram continues, his thumbs skimming back and forth over my protruding hip bones. “I have a high sex drive, Sophie. The thought of not having to stifle that with you is… incredibly appealing.”
His words are making my insides twist and my head spin. This is so, so, so wrong, but after a full year of celibacy and pining after the beautiful man whose cum is still sticky on my thighs, I’m weak.
I’m weak, and Bram Vogel is matter-of-factly telling mehe has a high sex drive.
Bram Vogel is telling me he has a high sex drive, and that he finds the idea of using me to satisfy it incredibly appealing.
It takes me a while to get it together enough to respond. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this,” I splutter, well aware that I’m completely naked and spread out beneath him like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Nodding as if he’s taking this seriously—which I know he’s not—Bram gazes down at me with unrestrained desire. “Why don’t we use this storm as an opportunity to explore? It’s been a long time for me. I haven’t touched another woman since you started at E&V, Sophie. Now that I’ve had you, I don’t want to stop.”
Oh, he’s playing so dirty.
It’s totally working.
Like he knows I’m paralyzed with indecision, the hands on my hips vanish. As I watch, he shoves the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock bobs into the space between us, heavy and so swollen it looks painful.
My core clenches automatically and a strangled sob breaks from my lips as Bram grips himself, stroking slowly. “We have days ahead of us. Would you like to see what it’s like to be mine whenever I want you?”
Yes. Yes, I absolutely want that, but I also know it wouldn’t be just sex. I have feelings for him, and if the “I’m going to marry you” comment is anything to go by, Bram isn’t shying away from commitment.
This wouldn’t be some irrational combustion of need brought on by a near-death experience and some ill-advised behavior on a kinky dating app. I would be choosing to sleep with Bram Vogel, choosing to give myself over to him completely, regardless of the consequences.
This is a disaster waiting to happen, so why aren’t I saying no?
Probably because every single molecule in my body is screaming yes.
“What—” I falter, still torn between what I want and what I know I shouldn’t. “Maybe we could just do it one more time?”
That’s okay, right? Well, maybe not okay, but it wouldn’t make the situation worse?
Bram’s eyes flash. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Then, before I can question this vague-as-fuck statement, the gorgeous man between my thighs is getting back to his feet beside the bed, leaving me exposed and alone. My thighs snap back together, my heart rocketing into my throat, and Bram looks down at me, his lips curved into a dangerous smile.
“Come here.”