11. Sophie
11
SOPHIE
I t takes some persuading for Bram to let me load the dishwasher.
Breakfast was a peaceful affair, interrupted by lots of laughter, stolen kisses, and hands on my bare thighs. The man seemed reluctant to do anything without touching me, but an incoming call had him relinquishing control of the sink and slipping from the room with an apologetic grimace.
The moment he’s out of sight, my smile fades.
Does it make me a shit person for having a good time? I guess if I’m going to fuck Honor’s dad—repeatedly—and actively fantasize about marrying him, having his babies, and letting him do kinky stuff to me for the rest of our lives, my level of asshole has already maxed out.
Ergo, not going to worry about how appropriate my current level of enjoyment is.
Also not going to worry about what will happen when this storm ends, how I’m going to look Honor in the eye again, or what to do with the long-repressed feelings for Bram Vogel clawing their way to the surface all at once .
He gets me, like really gets me. Bram seems to have no trouble seeing through the fun, easygoing Sophie persona I’ve built for myself, and is making me feel all gooey and soft and exposed.
I’m in such deep shit.
We’re talking twenty thousand leagues under the shit.
Except, instead of embarking on an epic adventure aboard the Nautilus, I’ll be thrown out of my apartment and/or slapped across the face for doing the dirty with my best friend’s dad.
For now, however, all thoughts of moral correctness, classic literature, or my newfound gooeyness are suspended until further notice. All that is future Sophie’s problem, and hopefully that hoe can figure this out, because I sure can’t.
Bram interrupts my denial strategizing, reentering the room, grave faced. Just the sight of it sends my heart plummeting through the floor. “Everything okay?” I ask, my voice a pitch higher than usual.
Bram’s expression clears. “Absolutely fine. Work stuff.”
On Christmas Eve?
“Oh.” I close the dishwasher, trying to dismiss the unsettling suspicion that whatever that call was, it was most definitely not “work stuff.”
Sensing the shift in mood, and correctly guessing my fears, Bram sighs. “I promise, Sophie. It’s not about you, or us,” he amends, leaning back against the kitchen wall and folding his arms over his chest in one of those casual, handsome guy poses.
Shaking off the moment, I smirk, eyeing him. “How old are you again?”
His eyebrows lift. “Forty-four. Are you worried about my age, now?”
“Nope. I just don’t think you’re supposed to look like that at forty-four. ”
The smug grin this gets me makes my heart flutter, but it’s nothing compared to the effect of his next words. “I think you should come over here, pull down those shorts and bend over the table so I can fuck my cum into you again.”
A weight drops into my pelvis, and I suck in an unsteady breath, staring at him. Bram is unruffled, looking as casual as if he just suggested watching a movie, and unmoving from his place against the wall.
My body obeys before my brain has fully processed the situation I’ve landed myself in. The kitchen table is ten feet away from Bram, and he still doesn’t move as I stop beside it, my pulse racing.
His gaze is so heavy it feels like he’s actually touching me as I hook my thumbs beneath the band of my borrowed boxer briefs. The rustle of fabric hitting the floor is the only sound in the kitchen apart from my hammering pulse, and the storm’s wind pummeling the side of the house.
My butt must still be pretty red from the spanking Bram doled out earlier, and I hear a low hiss of approval as I turn, lifting the hem of his T-shirt and leaning over the table, exactly like he said. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m soaked. Every single thing about this situation is turning me on, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan when I hear movement behind me.
“There’s this skirt you sometimes wear to work,” Bram murmurs, his tone polite and conversational, utterly at odds with the position we’ve found ourselves in. I gasp when his hands find my ass, squeezing roughly. “It’s green.”
I know the one he’s talking about. The waistband always gets bunched up from sitting at my desk, so it’s a laundry day pick. “What about it?” I whisper, conscious of arousal welling at my entrance, my body readying itself for him.
A low chuckle sounds as he releases my butt. “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you, sweetheart? ”
My forehead is pressed flat to the tabletop, and I stare blankly at the wood grain, my inner muscles contract, aching to be filled. “Bram,” I whisper, but whatever I was going to say next is lost in a gasp when a foot moves between mine, kicking them further apart. Cool air hits the slick, bare skin of my pussy, and Bram must be able to see how wet I am, because an approving growl sounds behind me.
“I can’t count the number of times I’ve imagined calling you into my office, pushing up that cock-tease fucking skirt, and taking you nice and rough.”
Whimpering, I arch my back, eager and needy for whatever he wants to give me. My near orgasm earlier left me aching, and now… I know it’s coming, but my last functioning brain cells go offline when the head of Bram’s cock bumps my clit. He guides it through my seam, up and down, up and down, coating himself in my arousal. On the third pass, he pauses, nudging at my entrance and—tightening his hold on my waist with his free hand—drives into my pussy with so much force it sends me to the tips of my toes.
A hoarse scream tears from my lips and my hands scrabble at the glossy table beneath me, struggling to find an anchor point. Bram doesn’t pause, and my inner walls, already sore from last night and his teasing today, are overly sensitive as he withdraws and pushes back into me just as quickly.
“You have the tightest fucking pussy.” He has both hands on my waist as leverage, pulling me back onto him with each thrust. Our size difference has never been more apparent—or hotter—than it is right now. I feel like his toy, an object to be used at his discretion, and nothing has ever turned me on more.
The table scrapes over the floor, but the sound is lost in the volume of my cries and the wet slap of my body yielding to Bram’s over and over again. His thrusts are too punishing, too hard, too deep. I don’t know how I could possibly come from this, but then I am.
My body convulses, lights bursting behind my eyelids as Bram groans his approval, “Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.” A hand lands beside mine on the table as he leans over me, slowing his pace to something grinding and decadent. Lips press to the juncture of my neck and shoulder and my eyes flutter shut, bowing my back to let him deeper. “It’s never been like this for me, Sophie.” The words, rasped in my ear by a low, rapturous voice, make me feel exposed in a whole new way. Bram kisses my shoulder, my back, my neck, fucking me slowly all the while. “I’ve never wanted to keep someone the way I want to keep you.”
My heart stalls, then kicks into overdrive. Does he mean forever? God, I hope he means forever, because it’s getting so hard to pretend that’s not what I want, too.
Another kiss.
Another slow thrust.
More uneven breaths.
More quiet noises of pleasure.
I’m just… gone. Every thought and worry has been stripped from my mind, and what’s left behind is good. I feel good. He’s reduced me to my most basic form, lost in the moment, sound asleep and wide awake all at once.
A hand finds my chin, guiding my face around and my eyes open, meeting the fierce stare of the man fucking me toward another earth-shattering orgasm. Bram’s lips find mine, and I moan into the kiss, twisting around as best I can to give him more. It’s messy and frantic, like we can’t get close enough.
Holy shit, I’m so in love with him.
“Bram,” I sob as his hand covers mine, lacing our fingers together as his thrusts turn uneven and jerky. He’s close, and so am I. “Bram it’s so good?— ”
“I know, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, strained with the effort it’s taking him to hold back. “Can you come with me?”
His reply is answered by my sharp cry as he shifts his angle, dragging the head of his cock over my G-spot. “Harder! Please, I need it hard, Bram!”
In an instant, he’s giving me what I need, setting an unyielding pace. Within seconds, I’m coming. My scream is completely out of my control, as if the pleasure he’s giving me is so big it has to vent somehow so I don’t explode.
“I’m going to come inside you,” Bram hisses against my ear, fucking me through the aftershocks, his body shaking. “Do you want it nice and deep, sweetheart? Do you want me to fill you up?”
“Yes, Bram,” I pant, reaching back to weave my fingers through his hair. My wetness floods over his cock, and heat crawls up my chest and neck at the volume of the sloppy, wet noises coming from between us.
With a low, masculine groan, Bram shoves himself deep one more time. Seconds later, his shaft twitches, swells, and the wet lash of his release coats the deepest part of me.
“Fuck, Sophie.”
My name, groaned by Bram Vogel as he’s coming, is quickly filed away as the single hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I love how that feels,” I admit quietly once Bram has sagged forward, holding his weight with forearms braced on either side of me.
His lips find my shoulder, kissing me sweetly. “I do too. It’s been a while.”
Biting my lip, I turn my head to meet his eyes. “I have an IUD. So it shouldn’t be, you know, an issue.”
Bram only stares at me for a moment, and I can’t tell if he’s relieved he won’t possibly get me pregnant, or pleased he can come inside me as much as he wants. “Huh.”
“What?” I question, worried .
He shakes his head with a low chuckle. “Apparently, I have a breeding kink.”
My tummy flips as he pushes off the table and pulls out, sending a trickle of his cum and mine down my thighs. I wince at the rawness of my sex, but all the discomfort is forgotten when Bram drops to his knees behind me. Large hands run up my thighs to hold my hips. “You’re so swollen, and you were still begging me to fuck you harder.” I suck in a sharp breath as he presses a gentle kiss to my sex and rolls back to his feet, finally allowing me to straighten up with a wince.
When I woke up, I was too preoccupied with the naked Bram wrapped around me to realize how sore I was—likely from a combination of nearly being hit by a car, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours, and being fucked silly multiple times in the space of twelve hours—but now it can’t be dismissed.
Bram, annoyingly perceptive as always, frowns. “Let me draw you a bath. The heat will help.”
With difficulty, I swallow. “Is there room for two?”
His warm chuckle makes me smile, and he holds out a hand to me. Together, we head for the stairs, totally naked. Outside, the lull in the storm is ending, and snow is coming down harder, a fierce wind battering the house.
If someone told me twenty-four hours ago that Bram Vogel would be drawing me a bath as his cum drips down my legs, I would have assumed I’d sustained some kind of head injury.
Oh, wait.
“This isn’t some kind of coma dream, is it?” I muse as we enter his bedroom, Bram releasing my hand to continue into the bathroom. The bed is still unmade, and I’m possessed by the urge to crawl right back into it. As it seems unlikely he bought the mattress at the same discount website where I got mine, Bram’s bed offers a much more comfortable sleeping experience.
Through the open bathroom door, I hear the sound of running water, and Bram reappears, looking amused. “Not that I’m aware of, but you never know.” It takes some serious dedication to maintain my unaffected expression when he strolls toward me, eyes raking over my body.
“I like it when you do that,” I admit as Bram’s hands come up to cradle my face, dragging one thumb over my bottom lip. Even after all we’ve done in the last day, the sensation of my bare breasts brushing his chest is still enough to make me tremble.
He hums, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. “I’ll never stop doing it, then.” He kisses me again, then pulls back far enough to meet my eyes. “You’re really okay? Your head?”
I nod. “I’m sore, but that’s probably to be expected when you’re thrown out of the way of a moving car and spend the better part of twelve hours being fucked by your well-endowed boss.”
Bram’s expression hardens. “Boyfriend, Sophie. Not boss.”
My tummy flutters. He called himself that before, and I didn’t want to fixate on it too much, but apparently he wants me thinking about it. I bite my lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But—”
“Sophie.” He shoots me a disapproving frown. “I’m not sure what kind of men you’ve been dating, but I am not fucking around here. If I’d known you felt this way about me, too, I wouldn’t have held back as long as I did. I’ve been falling for you for a year now. Don’t make me pretend anymore.”
I swallow and, slowly, reach up to draw my arms around the back of his neck. “Okay,” I whisper, caught somewhere between terrified and overjoyed. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Bram looks relieved and rewards me with a slow, searching kiss. “Come on,” he murmurs, taking my hand again and pulling me into the bathroom. It’s kind of manly, as far as bathrooms go. Dark tile covers every inch of the floor and walls, and the massive tub filling with steaming water doesn’t have a single bottle of bubble bath or scented candle on the edge. It couldn’t be clearer that no woman has lived here.
The click of the medicine cabinet closing draws my attention, and I watch as Bram takes out two painkillers, handing them to me with a glass of water.
My chest warms. Will it always be like this between us? Bram always being sweet, devoted, and thoughtful, except when he’s inside me? If so, sold.
Neither of us speaks as we climb into the tub, and I sigh with pleasure as I sink into the hot water.
“Good?” Bram asks quietly as I sink back against his chest, our toes brushing beneath the water.
Good is an understatement. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this content, this whole. Even with the inevitable issues heading our way… Holy hell, I love him so much. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
Bram snorts, reaching past me to turn the water off. “I’m glad you think so, but I have a long history of emotionally dissatisfied romantic partners who would argue that point.”
Water sloshes quietly as he winds his arm around my middle. “That makes two of us, then,” I admit, brushing my fingers absently over the back of his hand.
“Were you going to go out with Holden?”
The question surprises me, and I turn to kiss Bram’s shoulder, fighting a smile. “Maybe,” I admit. “He’s nice to me. ”
Judging by the sudden tension, this isn’t the answer he was looking for. “Because he wants to fuck you.”
“There are rumors about the two of you. At E&V,” I inform him mildly. In any office environment, people talk, but there seems to be an exceptional amount of gossip about the two attractive, single business partners who own the company. I never put much stock in it, but Bram’s possessiveness where Holden is concerned has me curious.
“Rumors?”
I hum, running my fingers over the surprisingly soft, dark hair dusting his arm. “People say you shared a girlfriend—girlfriends, actually.”
Silence. Only the soft sloshing of water against the side of the tub. Then, “Girlfriends is a bit of a stretch. There were times we shared lovers.”
Oh. Wow.
My mind immediately produces a situation in which I am that woman. Unfortunately, just as fast, it shoves that off to the side in favor of highlighting a situation in which I’m not. My stomach twists. Is more than one partner what Bram needs? Could I handle that?
No, is the honest answer.
There are successful non-monogamous couples, obviously, but?—
“Sophie.” Bram’s hand comes out, guiding my chin around to meet his eyes. “Don’t even think about it. The thought of sharing you is repugnant to me.”
He’s getting all growly because he thinks I want to have a threesome. Good grief, if this man gets any more swoony, I’m just going to dissolve into the bath water, never to be seen again.
“Does that mean I don’t have to share you?” I ask, already certain I know the answer.
Sure enough, Bram glowers at me. “I went on one date in the year and a half you’ve worked at E&V. I was relieved when you threw up on my shoes so I’d have an excuse to go home early and jack off to fantasies of you sitting on my desk naked and begging for my dick. It’s fairly safe to say I’m gone for you, woman. So no, you do not have to share me.”
My heart is impossibly full as I settle back against his chest, losing the battle with my smile.