8. Sophia
SOPHIA
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Bent over Rocco’s bed, with his mouth on me in places no man has touched in a long time. His beard scratches against my most sensitive skin, my head spinning in a way that has nothing to do with my illness for once.
I want to touch him in the same way he’s touching me.
His kisses leave my pussy and trail up my back, along my spine to my neck. I shiver at his touch, and he spins me back around to face him again. Then he’s kissing me, and I can taste myself on his tongue, and it’s hot as hell.
“I want you,” I gasp into his mouth.
Suddenly brazen in a way I never normally am, I reach for the bottom of his t-shirt and draw it up and over his head.
It’s all I can do to stop myself groaning at the sight of his body.
It’s nothing like the slender, youthful boy he’d once been.
Now he’s hard with muscle, and the skin covering that muscle is also covered in tattoos.
I trail my fingers across his skin, drinking in the designs of the tattoos. “I can’t believe this is you,” I murmur.
“I’m the same person I was back then.”
“Just with muscles and tattoos,” I point out.
“Are you complaining?”
I drop my hands to his jeans, to where his erection runs in a considerable line beneath the material. “Not in the slightest.”
His mouth crashes to mine as I tear open his belt and then pop the button and undo the fly.
I shove my hand beneath the waistband of his underwear, moving down.
Heat and hardness spring up to meet my fingers.
God, he’s big. I don’t remember him being this big, but then I hadn’t had much to compare him to back then.
He pushes the jeans and underwear down, kicking them away.
His cock is between us now, jutting upward, pointing at my belly.
Wanting to give him what he gave me, I drop to my knees and inhale the musk of him.
He’s gorgeous. I lick the salty drop of pre-cum from his slit and then circle my tongue around the head of his cock.
Above me, he groans, and his hands knot into my hair, fisting my curls.
I want to make this good for him, sliding my lips down his length, as deep as I can take him, and then bobbing back again.
His breathing grows ragged above me. “Fuck, Sophia. I’m going to come down your throat if you keep that up.”
I pull off him long enough to look up at him. “I’ll take every drop.”
“You’re killing me,” he growls. “But I want to be inside you.”
He yanks me up and throws me to the bed, so I land on my back. Then he crawls over me and reaches for the bedside drawer. “We still need to be safe, right?”
“Definitely.”
I’m on the contraceptive implant anyway—there’s no way I can risk ever falling pregnant with the way things are. I try not to let guilt at the thought of that get in my way. I might never be able to give him a child.
Shut up, Sophia. You’re having fun, hot sex, not making a baby.
I hate the way I over-think everything. I’m allowed to have a little fun and not always have to think about the future.
But this isn’t just some guy. This is the only boy you’ve ever loved.
And I had loved him. I’d loved him with every fibre of my being, and not only had my parents moving away gouged out my heart, but so had making the choice that he was better off without me.
I tear my thoughts from the past as he produces a condom and rips the top open with his teeth.
I take it from him and reach down to roll the top over his erection and then all the way down, all the while keeping my grip firm on his cock.
Rocco’s eyes slip shut with pleasure, and I reach his base and slip my hand under to cup his balls.
“Ah, fuck, Sophia,” he groans, lowering his forehead against mine.
I widen my thighs, hooking my ankles around the back of him, pressing my heels into the hard muscles of his backside. He kisses me again and then reaches between us to position himself. I buck my hips, encouraging him.
The smooth head of his cock meets my entrance, and he pushes gently, easing me open. Pleasure shoots through my core, tightening my stomach muscles and thighs.
“More,” I gasp. “I want more.”
I want him to fill me completely.
He grabs my hands, lifting them above my head, shoving my wrists into the soft pillow as he pushes deep inside me.
Our mouths meet once more with frantic, hungry kisses.
We clutch each other tight. He moves inside me, slow and languid at first, but then growing faster, harder.
My pleasure builds, coiling tension at my core, ready to explode and shatter me.
He releases one of my hands to reach down and cup my breast, his fingers rolling my nipple and sending sparks coalescing between my thighs.
My breathing is harsh and ragged, and I clutch him, knowing I’m close. “Oh, God…”
I come hard, my inner muscles rippling around his cock, holding him deeper and tighter. Rocco pauses while the waves of my orgasm sweep me away, and my body twitches with little bolts of pleasure.
He starts to move again, slamming himself into me, pistoning his hips, until he gives a grunt of release and holds himself deep as he finds his release.
W e lay in bed afterwards, our fingers twined together across his flat stomach, my head on his chest. I listen to his heartbeat slow in time with mine.
“Do you remember what we were like as teenagers?” I say. “Once we’d started, it was like we couldn’t help ourselves.”
“I remember all the snogging.” His chest vibrates as he chuckles. “We could stand on the street and kiss for hours.”
“I remember more than the snogging. Do you remember that little shed down on the green that we used to sneak into?” I grin up at him, our eyes locking. “We got into some pretty hot situations in there.”
We hadn’t been having full sex at the time, but there had been plenty of groping going on.
“You gave me my first ever blow job in there. I think I lasted about ten seconds before I came.”
It was my turn to laugh. “You gave me my first everything in there.”
“Nothing has ever lived up to how we were back then.” His arm tightens around me. “Until now.”
I smack him playfully on the chest, not buying what he’s saying. “Oh, come on. Look at you. I bet you’ve had tons of girls.”
He catches my hand, and pins it to his skin. “All right. It’s not the same, though. I know you, and you know me. You used to hide with me when my dad was in one of his moods, and I would defend you if someone at school was upsetting you. That history means something.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree. “It means everything.”