9. Sophia
NINE
Sophia
When I wake, Blake’s arm is draped over my waist, his steady breathing tickling the back of my neck. I inhale deeply, savoring his scent—an intoxicating blend of cologne and something uniquely him.
I turn in his arms, studying his face. In sleep, the lines of worry that usually crease his forehead are smooth. My fingers itch to trace the curve of his jaw, but I resist, not wanting to wake him.
As if sensing my gaze, Blake’s eyes slowly open. A smile spreads across his face.
“Morning, beautiful.” He pulls me closer, nuzzling into my hair.
I press a soft kiss to his collarbone. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in years.” His fingers trail lazily up and down my spine, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
“I want to talk about last night.” I prop myself up on one elbow, meeting his gaze.
“Having regrets?” His body tenses slightly.
“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “The opposite. You held back—I want more.”
“More? ”
“More.”
His eyes darken, but uncertainty flickers across his face. “Sophia, after everything you’ve been through…”
I press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “This isn’t about my past.” I cup his face in my hands. “It’s about us, here and now. I don’t want you to be afraid to take what you need.”
He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t, but pain and pleasure…” How do I tell him what I need? I shift closer, eliminating the space between us. “This is my choice.”
A low rumble escapes his throat. “Do you know what you do to me when you talk like that?” Blake’s free hand cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
“You could show me.” I meet his gaze unflinchingly.
A rough sound rumbles from deep in his chest, and then he yanks me into his lap, where it’s abundantly clear what my words do to him. “We need to set some boundaries first. Safe words. I must know you’ll tell me if anything’s too much.”
“Of course.” Warmth blooms in my chest at his concern.
He doesn’t know how dark I can go. Last night was child’s play compared to what I’ve endured. Not that I want that with him. I’m not insane, but I am a masochist. I always have been, and I crave the control of a dominant man.
His hands settle on my hips. “Promise you’ll be honest. No holding back. If you’re uncomfortable, you tell me.”
“I promise.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion I feel for this man.
“I’m going to push you.”
“I hope so.” My breath catches.
Blake pulls back slightly, his gaze intense. “Good. Now, tell me what you want.” His voice is low, commanding.
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “To serve. However, you need. ”
“Are you sure this isn’t because of your past?” Blake’s expression softens. “You can always say no. There’s no judgment.”
“I’m sure.” I silence him with a kiss, pouring my certainty into it. When I pull back, we’re both breathless.
“And if I tell you to kneel?” His grip on my hips tightens.
“Then I kneel.” A shiver runs down my spine.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods. His voice drops, taking on the edge of command. “On your knees.”
Without hesitation, I slide off the bed and kneel before him.
For the first time, this is something I want—something I choose, not something forced upon me. The realization washes over me, bittersweet and powerful. Yet, even as I revel in this newfound freedom, a shadow of unease flits across my mind. Unseen strings exist, forces I can’t escape. I push the disquiet away, focusing on Blake’s heated gaze.
This moment is real. My desire for him is genuine, even if the circumstances that brought us together are more complex than he knows.
Blake slips from the bed, standing before me. His broad hand grips his rigid and engorged cock. He reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. The tenderness in his touch nearly undoes me, but the steel of his command ignites a firestorm within me.
“Open your mouth.”
I lean into his touch, savoring the connection. Yes, there are complications I can’t share, burdens I must bear alone, but with him, I allow myself to believe in the possibility of something untainted by my circumstances.
I’m ready to explore every bit of it while I can, hoping that the genuine feelings growing between us might ultimately outweigh the deceptions I’m forced to maintain.
I part my lips obediently, eager to please him, feeling my heart race as he leans in to press the head of his cock against them. His taste is intoxicating—something unique to Blake. I inhale deeply, taking in his scent as he presses forward slowly.
My tongue darts out to explore the veins on the underside of his shaft. He groans softly, a deep rumble that vibrates against my tongue and resonates through my body. His hands grip my hair gently but firmly as he thrusts deeper, stretching my mouth with each powerful stroke. He grips my jawline, holding me in place as he experiments with the depths of my mouth.
The musky scent of arousal fills the room as his cock slides in and out, hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. It’s intense and overwhelming.
His hips move faster, picking up pace as he loses himself to the sensations I’m creating. The rhythm is hypnotic, almost trance-like; it forces me to focus on nothing but the feel of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth.
His other hand rests possessively on the back of my head, a controlling and commanding presence. His fingers intertwine with my hair, caressing gently before tightening their grip to guide my movements with precision. His cock slides in deep, filling my mouth with his heat, and he withdraws slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips—a sound that sends shivers down my spine.
Every vein in his shaft pulsates against my tongue as he thrusts deeper, the rhythm growing more insistent. My throat constricts around him, a primal reaction that I fight, fiercely determined to take all of him. The overwhelming heat of his body radiates, wrapping me in an intoxicating haze that urges me to please and serve him tirelessly.
My free hand wanders between my thighs, seeking solace from the molten ache building there, the slickness betraying my desperate need. I’m sure I appear like a wanton slut, kneeling with hungry eyes and an eager, bobbing head wholly devoted to his pleasure. To be used by him, to earn his gaze filled with such intensity, is an exquisite torment I crave more than anything.
Abruptly, he pulls out, leaving me gasping and whimpering in protest. My hand reaches for him instinctively, driven by an uncontrollable desire to reconnect, but he raises a stern finger in warning.
“Remove your hand from your clit,” he growls, a low, commanding whisper that reverberates with power. His cock twitches in anticipation, his hand running through his tousled hair. “The privilege of touching yourself is mine to give or take. Your pleasure—every ounce of it—belongs to me now.” He grips my wandering hand and delivers a sharp slap.
The light sting spreads through me, igniting a ripple of pleasure that tingles every nerve.
He grabs a fistful of my hair again, this time with more force, and directs my mouth back to his still-throbbing cock. His demand is clear—longer, deeper strokes that push me past my limits.
My gag reflex protests, but the intensity of the act feels both dirty and exquisitely decadent, forbidden yet thrilling beyond belief. He thrusts deep, holding himself inside me for what feels like an eternity, before a low, primal growl signals his release, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
The air is thick with lust as he pulls me to my feet. My legs feel weak and unsteady beneath me, but my eyes remain locked on his. He pushes me back onto the bed, his motions commanding and forceful, spreading my legs apart at the knees as he kneels between them.
His large hands rest on the outside of my thighs, caressing them with a mixture of gentleness and possession before slowly sliding upward, claiming every inch of my skin.
He leans down and nips at my inner thigh, a rough bite that makes me gasp as pleasure mingles with the sting. His hands are gentle yet insistent as they spread my folds, revealing my swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes devour the sight hungrily before he leans in. He starts with soft, teasing sucks that have me moaning, then increases the intensity when my reactions spur him on.
I arch my back off the mattress as he flicks his tongue skillfully, tracing intricate circles around my most sensitive nub while his fingers part my folds below with expert precision. His other hand finds my throat, gripping it loosely, a subtle reminder of his control that sends further shivers down my spine, making me feel both dominated and cherished.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs against my flesh, his voice a blend of desire and appreciation. He licks up a bead of moisture that has gathered there, savoring the taste, before pushing two fingers inside me with a slow yet firm motion .
A thick groan escapes his throat as he fills me, his fingers moving rhythmically, seeking out that special spot that makes my body convulse with pleasure.
His relentless touch launches me over the edge. My legs tremble uncontrollably as waves of ecstasy course through every inch of my being. My scream of pleasure fills the room, a raw expression of the intense release he coaxed from me.
As the final tremors of my orgasm subside, Blake wastes no time. With a confident motion, he moves on top of me, his eyes dark with lust and determination. His cock, more than recovered from the blowjob, now stands erect and eager, pressing insistently against my entrance.
Heat radiates from him, a tangible expression of his desire that makes my breath hitch. His hands grip my hips firmly, lifting me slightly to align our bodies perfectly. With a deliberate thrust, he enters me, filling me completely.
The sensation overwhelms me—his thick length stretching me, pushing deeper with each driving motion. He sets a rhythm, slow and intense at first, letting me feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my oversensitive core.
Blake’s eyes lock onto mine, holding my gaze as he moves inside me. Our physical and emotional connection intensifies the experience, melding our bodies and desires into a singular, pulsating dance. His thrusts grow more urgent, and I respond with equal fervor, matching his movements, lost in the primal rhythm we create together.
The bed creaks beneath us with the force of his thrusts, and the sound mingles with our moans and gasps, creating a symphony of pleasure that fills the room. His hands roam over my body, one coming up to grasp my breast, squeezing and kneading, while the other slides to my clit, circling it with skilled precision. My body reacts instinctively, arching into him, seeking more.
The intensity builds, and another orgasm coils deep within me, ready to explode. Blake senses it. His movements become erratic, driven by the raw need to claim and possess. With a final, deep, shuddering thrust, he pushes us both over the edge.
We come together, a shared climax that sends waves of ecstasy crashing through us. My walls clench around him, milking his release as he spills into me with a guttural groan. The sensation is almost too much, a blissful overload that leaves me gasping and quivering beneath him.
Blake’s hands gently rest on my hips, the firm grip now tender as he slowly pulls out and lowers himself beside me, grounding me in the moment with the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I catch my breath, feeling the lingering aftershocks of our intimacy resonating through every part of me.
Blake’s hands gently rest on my hips, grounding me in the moment with the warmth of his body against mine. I catch my breath, feeling the lingering aftershocks of our intimacy.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay.” A genuine smile brightens my face for the first time in years.
The feeling of Blake’s warm body against mine, still intimately joined, creates a profound sense of rightness, like the shattered pieces of my soul are beginning to knit back together. Blake’s fingertips trace idle patterns on my skin, soothing and grounding.
I take a fortifying breath. “This is the first time I’ve ever had sex without fear, force, or dread.”
Comprehension dawns in Blake’s expressive eyes. He cups my face tenderly, thumbs caressing my cheekbones.
“I’m honored to give you that,” he whispers fervently. “I want nothing more than to worship this exquisite body and make you feel cherished.”
Blake presses a soulful kiss to my lips, pouring heartfelt emotion into the intimate touch. Tears prick my eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of care and gentleness he shows me.
“I could use a shower.” I sigh contentedly, then shift, feeling the delicious soreness in my muscles.
“Mind if I join you?” His playful grin is hard to resist .
“Not at all.” I wink, and together, we make our way to the bathroom, the steam enveloping us as we step under the warm spray.
The water cascades over our intertwined bodies, washing away the remnants of sleep and intensifying our connection.
“Ready for some breakfast?” After we’ve cleaned up, Blake wraps me in a soft towel, his touch lingering on my skin.
“Absolutely.” My stomach growls in response, making us both laugh.