10. Bram
10
brAM
B efore I’ve even opened my eyes, I sense something has changed. It’s not the warm, naked woman curled into my side, her breath ghosting over my chest. Nor is it the ache of my muscles from fucking her senseless last night.
No, the thing that strikes me as most significant, is my sense of resolve.
From the day Sophie started at E&V, I’ve been tormented by my attraction to her, and there was nothing to be done about it. I didn’t realize how heavy the guilt and shame weighed on me until now, when they’re gone.
It won’t be smooth sailing. God knows pursuing this relationship will come with complications, but for the first time in over a year, my problems will be external rather than internal. More often than not, external problems can be handled. Or, at least, they can be set aside to deal with later.
Now, with resolution and hope taking up space inside me that was once filled with miserable self-loathing, I can breathe.
So, as I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling, savoring the feeling of Sophie’s skin against mine, and the way she’s wrapped herself around me in her sleep… I’m fucking happy.
“Hmmm,” comes the sleepy mumble from the naked woman in my arms, and I grin, turning to brush my lips over her forehead.
“How do you feel?” I murmur, searching her face for signs of discomfort.
Sophie yawns, the arm banded around my waist tightening. “Hmm, sore, but good. Totally worth it.”
The bedroom is illuminated by the storm’s grayish morning light, and I can tell without checking that a good deal of snow has built up overnight. Getting up to confirm isn’t high on my priority list, however.
A low chuckle shakes my chest, and Sophie opens one eye. “What?”
“I was referring to your head, not your pussy, sweetheart.”
“I totally knew that.”
She didn’t, but I’ll let her get away with it. The newfound urge to give this woman everything and anything she could ever want means Sophie will be getting away with a lot from now on. My heart, which has remained separate from my intimate relationships for a very long time, tugs as my new lover nestles closer to my chest with a sleepy sigh.
What I said to her yesterday, about marrying her, was one hundred percent genuine. In that moment, everything seemed so clear. Feelings this big don’t happen every day. For God’s sake, I’m forty-four years old and this is my first time experiencing them.
I have no intention of letting her go.
Sophie’s fingers trail down to rest on my stomach, making the muscles contract, and my cock—which has been hard since I woke to find my daughter’s best friend naked in my bed—throb.
“Let me feed you,” I murmur, because if I let this go any further, we’ll be lost in each other for hours. Regardless of these new feelings and desires, I haven’t forgotten that only yesterday, she was in the emergency room bleeding from the head. I need to take care of her.
Rolling to the side, I ease my arm out from under her, but all thoughts of leaving this bed are forgotten when I meet a pair of bright green eyes. My heart stalls. “What?” Sophie asks with a nervous giggle, a hand flying to her hair, as if I’m going to be put off by the wildness of her brunette waves.
Blowing out an unsteady laugh, I shake my head. “It just occurred to me that I’ve never been more attracted to someone than I am to you. Not even close.” It’s the truth, and I’m not the least bit hesitant to say it, but if anything, my words make Sophie’s obvious apprehension deepen. “Tell me what you’re thinking?” I ask her quietly, heart in my throat.
One corner of her mouth lifts in a pained half-smile. “You don’t have to say stuff like that. Or the… what you said yesterday. I know I’m not exactly ideal girlfriend material.”
Her words send a hot jolt of anger into my throat. “Who said that to you?” I demand, searching her face as if I’ll find the answer written there.
Sophie stares back at me, bemused. “I—Does it matter?” My look of outrage must answer this, because she sighs. “Nobody said it to me, Bram. But I’m twenty-four and Honor is the only person who hasn’t gotten sick of me in, like, a few months, tops. I’m used to it.”
It’s an effort to loosen the muscles in my jaw enough to speak. “We’ve been working together for over a year now, and while I’m so attracted to you I routinely have to jerk off just to make it through the day, it’s not why we’re in this bed together.”
A little line appears between her eyebrows. “It’s not?”
“No,” I growl, pissed that this needs to be said at all. “ Sophie, talking to you is the reason you have this effect on me. I like you. As a person.”
The bedroom is quiet as this sinks in. Then, with a watery little laugh, Sophie shakes her head. “Are you sure?”
Yes. I’m sure.
With a hiss of impatience, I sit up, and Sophie barely has time to squeak in surprise before I’m pulling her over my lap, face down.
My cock leaps against her stomach as I pause to appreciate the view. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Sophie peeks over her shoulder, lips parted and eyes wide. “Stop what?”
In response, my hand comes down on her bare ass, spanking her hard enough to leave an angry red mark and make the naked woman in my lap gasp. “I’m a grown man, sweetheart. I know what I want.” Another spank, and Sophie squeals, bucking against my hold.
“Bram!”
“Don’t move. You’re getting ten.” I run my hand over the redness, soothing her hurt for a few seconds before marking it all over again, spanking her three times in quick succession.
I’m not going easy on her, but any worry I might have had that it was too much for Sophie is quickly put to rest. Creamy thighs inch further apart on the sixth spank, her reddened bottom arching higher.
Jesus, she’s perfect.
“This is supposed to be a punishment. Is it making your cunt wet?” I demand, my voice like gravel.
Sophie moans, gazing back at me. “I’m sorry, Bram. I can’t help it.”
The next spank takes her by surprise, and the squeal she makes goes right to my already aching dick. “Three more, then we’ll deal with that needy little pussy,” I grunt, squeezing each of her reddened cheeks in turn .
While my attraction to her would have made any sex with Sophie incredible, the knowledge that we’re compatible in our less conventional desires is liberating. There’s no testing the waters here, no wondering whether it’s too soon to tell her what I want. My imagination is brimming with sordid, kinky fantasies, and the woman I’ve wanted like no other is on board for all of them.
I must have been a saint in a former life. It’s the only explanation for getting this obscenely lucky. As I bring my hand down on her bottom again, I find myself grinning like a lunatic. “You’re taking this very well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, but I need to know you’ve learned your lesson.”
Sophie’s breathing is ragged as she trembles against me, arching her back for more. “My lesson?”
My thumb dips between her cheeks, teasing the puckered hole there. “Are you ever going to question the way I feel about you again?”
Her head whips back and forth frantically, thighs inching further apart. “No, Bram.”
My hand drifts between her legs. Slick, hot skin greets my touch, and we groan in unison as I find her clit, stroking. It’s beyond erotic, watching this gorgeous, twenty-four-year-old in my lap grinding against my touch, needing more of what only I can give her.
“Does that feel nice?” I coo, working her closer to an orgasm. “Does my greedy girl need me to make her come?”
Sophie bucks against my fingers, her hands clawing at the crumpled sheets beneath us. “Yes! Yes! Please?—”
My fingers move faster, and her moans start coming in great, gasping sobs as she grasps for something just out of reach. I take my time, waiting until she’s on the edge, almost shaking with how close she is, then pull my fingers away, delivering the last two spanks she’s owed .
“Bram!” Sophie sobs, staring back at me in wide-eyed outrage.
Chuckling and brimming with satisfaction, I move out from under her to stand beside the bed. “What would you like for breakfast?” I ask with a leisurely stretch, relaxed apart from my still-raging erection.
“That was so mean!”
I pause, considering. “You know, it was. I’ll make it up to you later.”
Sophie glowers up at me from the mattress where she’s still sprawled on her belly, legs spread. At this angle, I have a clear view of her bare cunt, swollen and glistening with arousal. “You suck.”
“I do, yes,” I concede, utterly unapologetic, as I stride into the closet in search of fresh clothing for both of us. When this storm is over, I’m calling my personal shopper and having her pull a selection of things for Sophie to wear while she’s here. At least, until I convince her to move in.
First, though, I’ll need to figure out a way to break the news to my daughter.
Sophie is sitting on the edge of the bed by the time I emerge, dressed and holding a T-shirt, boxer briefs, and socks for her. She scowls as I set them on the mattress beside her, leaning forward to kiss her pursed lips.
It’s difficult to keep myself from grinning as she melts against me.
“Come downstairs,” I tell her between slow, lingering kisses, “I’ll make you pancakes.”
Sophie snorts, playing with the ends of my hair. “Do they come with a side order of sexual frustration? Because I’m already pretty good on that.”
A warm laugh breaks free from my chest as I draw back, giving her room to stand. “No, but I have bacon.”
This turns out to be sufficient motivation for Sophie to get to her feet with a groan. She makes a show of bending over to step carefully into the clothes, ensuring I can’t miss the red handprints I left on her perky ass, or the wetness still coating her pussy and inner thighs.
I deserve that, but she allows me to take her hand and pull her out into the hall.
“Holy shit,” Sophie breathes when we make it to the stairs and get our first view of the several feet of snow that built up overnight. Flakes are still falling gently, but if the darkened sky in the distance and the forecast are anything to go by, there’s plenty more to come.
I’m reminded, with a dull jolt, that it’s Christmas Eve. The lack of decorations hadn’t bothered me before. When I learned Leni had a show, and that Honor would be spending the holiday with Riley’s family, it somehow seemed more pathetic to take the time to put up a tree and tinsel just for myself than it did to let the whole occasion pass unnoticed.
Now, with the new, gut-wrenching knowledge that Sophie has been alone every year for Christmas since she was eighteen, I’m kicking myself for not making an effort. I didn’t even buy her a gift, but why would I? Until a few days ago, I was convinced nothing would ever happen between us.
“There’s a company that plows the drive, but they won’t be working until after the holiday,” I report, feeling somewhat more subdued than I did a minute ago as we arrive in the main living area.
The abandoned risotto is where we left it last night, and so are the clothes we ripped off one another. Sophie and I exchange amused looks, and I pull her back into me for one last kiss before rounding the kitchen island.
“What do you normally do for Christmas? If you don’t go to Kentucky,” I ask mildly as I scrape the remains of our dinner into the trash. Sophie, who is busy picking her shredded tank top off the back of the couch, glances at me .
“Not a lot,” she admits, averting her gaze again. “Sometimes I would watch movies. Eat freezer lasagna if I was feeling extra fancy.”
A bitter taste fills my mouth at the casual way she says this, and at the thought of her huddled alone on the couch with freezer food while Honor, Leni, and I were just a few miles away.
Never again. This is the first Christmas we’re spending together, but it won’t be the last.
Except next year, I’m going to be her family.
“I can do better than frozen lasagna,” I inform her as I gather the ingredients I’ll need for breakfast.
Sophie takes the stool across from me, gazing over the countertop with a sweet smile. “I don’t know. Have you tried the one with pepperoni? Life-changing.”
I pause, morbid curiosity getting the better of me. “They don’t really make that, do they?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, poor, snobby Bram. They absolutely do. You’re not exactly their target customer, though, so I can’t say I’m surprised you haven’t gotten the thirty percent off coupons.” She props her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling in the wintery light.
“I’m not that snobby,” I protest as I take a carton of eggs and milk from the fridge.
Laughing, Sophie gestures to the items, both of which have labels declaring their organic, locally sourced qualities, and completely undermine my claims. “I’m teasing you. It’s not a bad thing, Bram. You like to do things properly. It’s why you’re so good at your job. You know what looks right, and you know what works right.”
My chest fills with warmth at her praise. “Have you spent a lot of time thinking about my more redeeming qualities, Sophie?”
She beams at me, looking very at home in my T-shirt, waiting for her breakfast. “Oh, quite the contrary. I’ve been looking for things wrong with you for ages. At one point, I tried to convince myself you had a weird shaped head.”
I let out a startled laugh, shaking my (normal shaped) head. “Didn’t work?”
“Nope,” she pops the p and sighs.
“What else?”
She considers for a moment, then brightens. “Oh! This one is actually kind of funny. I kept campaigning for our team to get lunch from that Italian place so you’d eat the garlic pasta thing you like, and have bad breath.”
“That was very innovative. Unfortunately, I keep a toothbrush in my office bathroom.”
“Is it super fancy and electric with some kind of supersonic plaque fighting features?”
I can’t stop smiling. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
Sophie fixes me with a playful, stern look. “You’re clearly super mega rich, but you could crank that up to super mega ultra rich if you didn’t spend three hundred dollars on spare toothbrushes. You’ll notice I said toothbrushes, plural, because I’m sure you have another one stashed somewhere.”
It’s in the car, but I’ll allow her the satisfaction of finding it herself. I’ll also be ordering one for her to keep here.
“Well, in the spirit of merciless mocking, I’ve noticed something about you, Miss Nelson.” Taking an egg from the carton, I crack it into a bowl.
Sophie brightens. “Does this mean you’ve been looking for reasons I’m unappealing, too?”
Another egg joins the first, and I chuckle. “It’s been a lot of hopeless pining, unfortunately. This is a much more recent discovery.”
“This build up is very dramatic.”
I take my time putting the eggshells in the compost bin beneath the sink, rinsing my hands, and wiping them on the kitchen towel. Then, filled with smug satisfaction, I look up at her, grinning. “You snore.”
Instantly, both hands fly to cover her mouth as her eyes go round with horror. “I do not!”
“You do,” I confirm dryly, turning my attention to the cutting board and vegetables. “Don’t worry, it’s cute.”
A dramatic groan follows this statement. “Snoring isn’t cute, Bram.”
“Yours is.”