23. Sophia
SOPHIA
Deep down, I just knew. I knew it in my bones, because I know him.
Nazareth Hale.
The man who trembles with restraint every time he touches me, who stops the second he senses even the slightest hesitation in my breath.
He’s the one who’s spent years learning how to keep control over his own body because it was so often taken from him.
The man who had fought so hard not to take anything from me that I didn’t freely give.
That’s how I know. Because the man I love would never have chosen her. Not broken. Not desperate. Not ever.
On our way back from town, the image burned behind my eyes.
Reth, barely conscious, body betraying him because of the poison she pumped into his veins.
My stomach twisted again and again and again.
She didn’t just steal his body. She tried to steal the last piece of him that still belonged to himself.
That’s why he pushed me away. Not because he wanted to, because he had to. Because the guilt was eating him alive.
Valeria thought she could tear us apart by twisting the truth and throwing it in my face. But what she did was pull us back together.
“I’m sorry, Cherry-red,” he whispers against my lips.
“Stop.” I open my mouth wider for him, and he kisses me like a man who’s been drowning and finally found air.
There’s nothing careful about it. No hesitation. Just raw, desperate need, his tongue stroking deep, claiming, devouring. I taste salt—his tears, mine, the pain we’re both carrying—and I moan into him, letting him take what he needs.
Because this is what he needs. Not gentle words. Not careful touches. He needs to feel me. To replace every ghost on his skin with something real. Something that belongs to us.
I pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in both hands, stroking his scar with my thumb. His eyes are still haunted, still carrying the weight of that cell, but beneath the shame, I see it. The desperate need to be mine again.
“Come with me.”
I stand slowly, taking his hands and pulling him up with me.
He follows, shaky but trusting as I lead him to the bed then step back, holding his gaze as I strip for him.
Slowly. Peeling off my shirt, letting it drop.
My bra follows. Then my pants and panties, until I’m completely bare in front of him.
Reth’s breath catches, rough and audible in the quiet room. His winter-blue eyes darken as they rake over me, slow, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of skin I’m offering him. His hands flex at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me.
There’s hunger there, but underneath it is something deeper—awe, almost disbelief, like he still can’t believe I’m choosing to give myself to him after what he sees as betrayal.
“Sophia…” His voice is wrecked, barely more than a rasp. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I say, cutting him off gently. “All your life, you’ve been taken from. Let me give this to you. Because you need it. Because I love you.”
His throat works hard as he swallows, eyes never leaving mine. The control he’s clinging to is fraying at the edges, but he stays rooted in place, letting me set the pace, even as his body trembles with the effort.
I step between his thighs, staring down at him.
“Touch me.” I take his hands and place them on my waist. “I’m yours, Nazareth. I’ve always been yours. She can’t change that. Ever.”
His palms slide up my ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I arch into him, needing more. Needing him to know that every inch of me is a safe place for him.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He breathes. “Real.”
He leans in, mouth closing over one nipple, sucking hard enough to make me gasp.
His tongue swirls, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks straight to my clit.
I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him there as heat pools low in my belly.
This isn’t just sex. This is reclamation.
This is me giving him back his body, his desire, his right to want.
“Lift your arms for me,” I say, and he does, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head. I then drop to my knees to help him out of his sweatpants.
His cock springs free, heavy and already hard, the thick head glistening. Reth’s breath stutters above me as I wrap my fingers around the base and lean in.
“I’m yours. You can stop this whenever you want…just don’t close your eyes.”
He bites his bottom lip, and I press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock before dragging my tongue slowly up the length of him, savoring the way his thighs tense and his hand fists gently in my hair.
When I take him into my mouth, a rough, guttural sound tears out of him. His hips twitch once before he locks them down, breathing hard through his nose as I work him deeper.
I glance up, and the sight hits me hard—his jaw clenched tight, eyes half-lidded and burning down at me, every muscle in his body strung taut like he’s barely holding himself together.
He looks wrecked. And completely focused on me.
After a long, wet pull that draws a hoarse groan from him, I slide off with a soft pop and rise to my feet, meet his eyes, and guide him onto the bed. I push him gently onto his back and climb over him, straddling his hips.
“Only me,” I say softly, taking his face in my hands again. “Stay with me, Nazareth. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t go back there. See me.”
I lean down and kiss him slow and deep, pouring every ounce of love into it. My hands roam over his tattooed chest, tracing scars and cherry blossoms, mapping every inch of him like I can erase her touch with mine.
I kiss down his neck, over his collarbone.
“You’re mine,” I murmur against his skin. “This body is mine. Every scar, every breath, every inch. She never touched what matters to me most.” I flatten my palm against his chest where his heart is. “This.”
His heartbeat thunders against my hand, strong and frantic, and for the first time since I started undressing him, I feel him truly breathe with me—shaky, but here. Present. Mine.
I shift forward, straddling his lap, and slowly drag my wet slit along the thick length of his cock. The slick heat of me glides over him, coating every inch as I rock my hips in a slow, deliberate tease.
Reth’s breath hitches sharply, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t pull me down—he just watches me with that burning stare that can so easily undo me.
“I love you,” I murmur, reach between us, and wrap my fingers around him.
The moment I touch him, a violent shudder runs through his entire body. His hips jerk up involuntarily, a low, broken groan coming from deep within his chest—raw, almost pained. His head falls back against the pillow for a second, eyes squeezing shut as if the pleasure is too much, too dangerous.
“Sophia—” His voice cracks. Ragged. Breathless. When he forces his eyes back open, they’re wild, pupils blown wide. “Fuck.”
I stroke him slowly, from base to tip, twisting my wrist at the swollen head, teasing the sensitive underside with my thumb. His cock throbs hot and heavy in my palm, veins standing out, the head flushing darker with every pass.
“I can feel you,” I whisper, stroking him again, spreading the slick bead of precum down his length. “So hard for me. Only me.”
He makes a wrecked noise, hips twitching helplessly, chasing my touch even as shame flickers across his face.
“I shouldn’t—after what she—”
“Shh.” I tighten my grip, stroking him firmer, faster, watching his abs tense and ripple, his chest heaving with every ragged breath.
“This is mine. This cock is mine. Feel how it reacts to me. Not her. Never her again.”
His eyes squeeze shut for a heartbeat, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps, but I keep stroking him—slow, deliberate, torturous—until his breath comes in short, desperate pants.
When I swipe my thumb over the sensitive slit again, pressing just right, his whole body jerks hard and his hips buck up into my fist.
“God—Sophia.” His voice is shredded, almost unrecognizable. “It feels too good. I don’t deserve—fuck.”
“You do.” I lean down, brushing my lips against his ear while my hand keeps working him, twisting and stroking with perfect pressure. “You deserve to feel good. You deserve my hands on you. My mouth. My pussy. Let me take care of you. Let me erase her.”
A broken sound vibrates from his throat—half moan, half sob—and his hips start rolling up into my fist, chasing the pleasure like a man starved for it.
His hands slide up my thighs, gripping hard, fingers trembling as he fights to stay present. Sweat beads on his forehead. His cock throbs violently in my hand, leaking steadily now, the head slick and flushed.
I rise up on my knees, position the thick head of his cock at my entrance, and sink down slowly.
We both moan as he stretches me open, thick and hot and perfect. Inch by inch, I take him until he’s buried to the hilt, my walls fluttering and clenching around his girth. For a long moment, I stay there, letting him feel me wrapped around him completely—warm, slick, and utterly his.
“Eyes on me,” I whisper when his lids start to flutter. “Stay right here with me.”
I begin to move. Slow, rolling movements of my hips at first, grinding my clit against him with every downward stroke.
His hands tighten on my ass, guiding me as I ride him, but his eyes never leave mine.
I can see the storm in them—shame trying to drag him under, pleasure fighting to pull him back to me.
“God, Sophia…” he groans, voice low and wrecked. “You feel so good… so tight and warm around me.”
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and ride him harder, watching his face, his eyes, his mouth.
For a second, his gaze drops mine, focusing on the ceiling above me, and I go down, pressing my breasts against his skin, roll my hips and kiss him deeply.
Tongues sliding and tasting, losing myself in the rhythm of our bodies moving together.