Chapter 4
DANIEL
One of the things I disliked about going from a long-distance relationship to something local was the communication.
Sophie had been attached to her phone when she lived in Portland and was always quick to answer messages.
Since moving down to LA, it wasn’t that she’d been harder to get a hold of, but she definitely lost track of her phone more than she did before.
I tried to convince myself it was a good thing.
She felt secure being in the same city, and she was able to walk away from her phone in ways she didn’t feel comfortable doing before.
It was a sign of trust in our commitment.
Or something. Also, her new job was way more money than she’d made in Portland but also way more stress.
The home renovations at the end of the day didn’t help the situation much.
All in all, our adjustment to eight years together while being apart to months of being together had been easy.
I think it was more of an adjustment for me than her.
Partly because since she’d moved down, neither of us had been with other people.
We’d never talked about closing the relationship after she relocated; it had sort of happened naturally, and I’d been avoiding having the conversation with her about if that was how we wanted it to stay or not.
The logistics of being open when you lived alone were one thing, open when you shared a space was something else entirely. Or, at least, that’s what I assumed.
Sophie was pretty much the only person I’d ever been serious with, save for a boy I spent two years of college loving in secret.
Everyone I’d been with over the last eight years had been casual flings and hookups.
The possibility of any of those jaunts turning serious had never been off the table.
Even though we’d agreed to be open out of physical necessity, both of us knew the possibility of an emotional attachment had been there.
Fortunately or otherwise, it had never really happened.
There was a woman in Portland Sophie saw regularly, but for her it was more of a friends who fuck kind of thing.
There wasn’t any real heart behind the heat.
My parents hadn’t prepared me for this.
When I got home from work and found Sophie’s car in the driveway, a little knot of tension at the base of my neck loosened just enough for me to breathe.
It wasn’t like I was waiting for her to change her mind and leave me, but there was part of me that definitely felt the adjustment in our relationship might be too big to survive.
I unlocked the front door and toed off my shoes, dropping my messenger bag just inside the door and shrugging out of my coat. All the lights in the house were on—a uniquely Sophie quirk I’d had to adjust to since her arrival—and music echoed down the hallway from the bedroom.
I found her there on a stepstool, paint roller in one hand and a prideful expression on her face.
She was gorgeous, with her baggy, paint-stained jeans and her too big shirt that fell off her shoulder and the black lace of her bra strap on full display.
She had tied her dark blonde hair into a bun and stabbed it with a pencil, but so much had fallen free around her face she might as well have taken it down.
“Daniel.” She smiled at me, radiant. “You’re home.”
“I’m home.”
“I finished,” she said, giving the paint roller a little shake. With the solid wall of green behind her, she looked like a modern faery princess. She could have been on a pedestal instead of a stepstool, and it would have suited her just fine.
“I told you we could finish it next weekend.”
Sophie climbed down and dropped the roller into the paint tray, checked herself for mess, then closed the space between us and tucked herself into my waiting arms. She was a few inches shorter than me, which I loved, because when she was barefoot, it meant I could bury my nose against the top of her head and enjoy the smell of her rose-scented shampoo.
“It was going to drive me mad.”
I kissed her hair. “I know.”
Sophie wasn’t a control freak, but she was particular about the things she liked and how she liked them. It was something I’d learned about her very quickly, and I didn’t hate it. Sophie’s personality made her perfect for her job and I knew being in LA was going to open so many doors for her.
“I didn’t eat lunch, though,” she admitted, pulling out of the hug enough to look up at me with a scrunch in her nose.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
I took her face into my hands, bent down and rubbed our noses together. “Do you want me to cook or do you want me to order takeout?”
“If you order takeout, do I get a foot massage?” She raised onto her toes and brushed her mouth against mine.
“You can have one either way,” I told her. “But you’ll have to wait if you want me to cook.”
“You know I’m big on instant gratification,” she teased, one of her hands skirting down my ribs before settling on my hip.
The tension in my neck unraveled further, and the next breath sent a flare of heat between my legs.
“I know.”
“Takeout, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It was a tease between us sometimes, but I never missed the way Sophie’s eyes got a little wider when I used the endearment. She definitely didn’t hate when I called out the fact she was the most important person in our relationship.
“Chinese?” she asked, even though I would never tell her no.
“Your usual?”
“Please.”
I nodded and ghosted another kiss across her lips. “Go get cleaned up and meet me in the living room?”
“Is that an order?”
“Do you want it to be?”
Sophie licked her lips and kissed me again, leaving the question unanswered.
But she made sure to swing her hips a little more than usual when she disappeared into the bathroom, and I pressed down hard against the base of my dick, willing it to settle down.
The water in the bathroom turned on while I changed into something more comfortable—loose plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt from Sophie’s college I’d bought the day she graduated.
I called in a delivery order from the Chinese place down the street that she loved, then grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and waited for her to join me on the couch.
The pinot noir was a nice way to take the edge off of a long day, and I was halfway through my glass when Sophie appeared in the doorway with her hair in a towel and a barely there sleep set on.
Short white cotton shorts and a matching tank top, she looked soft as a cloud as she sank down beside me and took my wine out of my hand.
I made the other glass my own, patting her ankles when she stretched out and set her pedicured feet in my lap.
“Thank you for finishing the work,” I said, pinching her smallest toe. She jerked her foot and rolled her eyes at me.
“Truly a hardship to take a half day at work.”
“You love your work.”
She smiled and leaned against the couch, tucking in to make herself comfortable. “I know. I also love when you rub my feet.”
I set my wine down on the table and dug out a tube of lotion from the drawer in our side table.
It was an expensive cream Sophie loved, so we of course had no less than four tubes of it scattered throughout the house.
There was probably one in her purse as well, just in case of emergencies.
I squirted some into my hands and rubbed them together so it wasn’t cold when I took her foot in my fingers.
“Would you still love me if I didn’t give such good foot rubs?” I dug my thumbs into the arch of her foot and she groaned, dropping her head back. The towel unraveled from her hair and fell on the floor with a wet thud.
“I would still love you if you had no hands.”
I hummed and worked my fingers over her heel.
“But the hands are a nice touch,” she murmured.
“You like my hands more places than just your feet,” I reminded her.
Sophie stretched her other foot into my lap, pressing her toes against my unavoidable erection.
“You like my feet more places than just your hands,” she said back.
I managed a nod, shifting myself to face her because I liked to look at her but also because I wanted her to have an easier reach.
“Show it to me,” she whispered, sipping her wine.
I tugged the waistband of my pajamas down beneath my balls and gave my cock a quick stroke with my left hand before returning my attention to her foot.
Sophie made a very happy sound and set to driving me mad, rubbing the arch of her foot up the shaft of my cock until I leaked.
She changed tactics, tickling my balls with her toes until I could feel my heartbeat in my dick.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Very.”
I could barely keep my eyes open. When she pulled her foot out of my hand and crawled into my lap, I didn’t bother trying any longer.
Sophie’s hair was a tangled mess, but I worked my fingers through the strands as she situated herself on top of me, and I opened my mouth for her when she leaned down for a kiss.
She reached down and took my dick into her hand and squeezed, her thumb brushing over her clit with every upstroke.
Her body trembled when she touched me, and I tightened my fingers in her hair as she brought us both closer to the edge.
“Sophie.”
“Hmn?”
“I want to come in your mouth.”
“Hmn?” She pulled back a little bit, hand still working us both toward orgasm.
“I want to come in your mouth,” I said again, giving her hair a gentle pull back.
She responded to the physical touch and slid off the couch and onto her knees.
She took my dick into her mouth, sucking me down to the root in one swallow.
Her shoulder jerked as she turned her hand onto herself, rubbing her clit while she bobbed up and down on my shaft.
I threaded my fingers back into her hair, hips lifting off the couch as she sucked me hard enough to throw me right over the cliff.
I grabbed her head with both hands and thrust deep, coming against the roof of her mouth and probably down her throat.
Any other time I might have ridden out my pleasure like that, with her hot tongue against my dick and watery eyes staring up at me with barely controlled want, but she was close too.
She was so close, and it took me no work at all to shove her to the floor, onto her back.
Cum still leaked out of my cock when I made a home for myself between her legs, licking a wet stripe up her leaking pussy before sealing my mouth around her clit.
She grabbed my hair and arched into me, fingers of her other hand scrabbling against the floor.
I teased two fingers into her, searched out that precious soft spot inside of her, and that was the end of it for us both.
Sophie came hot against my mouth, and I kept at her until she shoved me off with a desperate groan.
My chin dripped with her arousal, and I wiped it off with the back of my hand as I flopped over onto the floor beside her, my dick still out.
She had never taken her fingers out of my hair, and she petted my head with a pleased little moan.
“Daniel, I’ve got to be honest. That was an amazing foot massage.”
I chuckled and nodded. “I’m glad you approve.”
A knock on the door yanked me out of the post-orgasm haze I loved.
Groaning, I rolled onto all fours, tucked my cock back into my pants, then pushed myself to my feet.
Sophie was an angel, sprawled on the floor, flush with pleasure.
I held out my hand to help her up, but she shook her head. “Not yet.”
I hummed, stepping over her to go get our dinner.
When I returned, she had composed herself back on the couch.
She’d set up the little tray we used when we ate in the living room instead of the dining room, and she’d refilled both of our glasses of wine.
She’d even magicked a hairbrush from somewhere and had already started working through the tangles from her shower.
She patted the corner of the couch that had become mine, and I sank down beside her, wondering if it was possible for life to be any better than this.