Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Davis
Sophia makes herself right at home when we walk into my apartment, setting her purse onto the sideboard near the door, and I follow with my keys like I always do. We walk through the living room and I stop at the coffee table in front of the couch to grab the TV remote.
“Leave it off,” she tells me, crossing her arms across her front to pull her sweater over her head. She walks backward toward my bedroom, unbuttoning her denim shorts, and she slides them down her legs, kicking them away from her. “You don’t need it.”
“What are you up to, Sugar?” I ask her with a smirk, tossing the remote onto the couch.
Her eyes don’t leave mine as I follow her, watching her strip piece by piece.
Her clothes leave a trail behind us until we reach my bedroom.
She reaches behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra, dropping it in front of her.
Her tits are fucking perfect. The little peaks of her hardened nipples make my cock swell, and I let out a groan while I stare at them.
“I let you show me something,” she says, dipping her fingers beneath the band of her panties.
She shimmies them down, staring up at me through her eyelashes while she does, baring her beautiful little pussy to me. “Now it’s your turn.”
She turns away from me, swaying toward my nightstand.
My eyes lock onto her ass, my hands working to unbuckle my belt while I watch her move.
I slide the smooth leather from my jeans and fold it in half, using the buckle as a handle while I walk toward her, lightly tracing the curve of her ass with the belt.
“You strip yourself bare and dangle your body in front of me like a piece of meat,” I growl into her ear, “and all I can fucking think about is eating you alive.”
I pull the belt back, swinging it forward until it lands on the curve of her ass with a loud smack, and she jumps with a yelp. “No belt right now,” she tells me. She turns and presses a bundle of soft, red rope against my chest. “We’re going to play a game.”
“What game is that, Sugar?”
“Show me how you like to use the rope,” she purrs, pressing her body against mine. “The first one to make noise loses. We’re going to make the quiet a good thing for you.”
“And what’s the punishment for losing?”
She shrugs, shooting a playful wink in my direction. “Winner’s choice.”
My eyes drift up toward the pair of steel hooks installed in the ceiling, just above the center of my bed, and the corner of my mouth ticks up in a smile. I palm my cock over my jeans, straining with need. “When does the game start?”
With a wicked grin, she pulls one finger up to press it against her lips.
I push her backward, forcing her onto the bed, and climb on top of it after her.
I pull her body to the center of the bed, molding it like clay to position her exactly how I want her; on her knees, legs spread apart to keep that pretty pussy on display for me.
I unfurl the rope, pulling the smooth material between my fingers, and position myself behind Sophia.
I start at her ankles, securing them to her thighs with a series of square knots.
Reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, I pull out the magic wand and toss the adapter in the direction of the wall outlet.
Settling the head of the wand against her clit, I use more square knots to secure it in place against her thigh.
I work the rope up her body, building an intricate ladder of knots and cutouts, settling a knot at the center of her chest. My fingers trace the silky skin of her tits while I wrap each of them snugly in the rope, and my cock strains against my jeans.
As I unwrap the second bundle of rope, my tongue slips from my mouth and I draw it from her shoulder up to the space just beneath her earlobe, forcing down the growl that begs to come out of my mouth while I bite down on her flesh.
Her skin pebbles with goosebumps at the contact, and I feel her body buckle.
I work to wrap her arms in the rope, braiding them together in front of her with a series of knots, then stand in front of her, reaching up to loop the slack through the paired hooks in the ceiling.
Colt might collect art, but I make it.
I look down at her, wrapped up on her knees, served up to me on a silver fucking platter, and my cock twitches. She’s so perfect; every inch of her body, her eyes, her fucking lips. The way she smiles up at me, waiting for our game to really start.
Fucking. Perfect.
Stepping off of the bed, I stand in front of her, reaching behind my head to pull my t-shirt off and throw it onto the floor next to me.
Sophia’s eyes roam from mine to follow the line of my body, then back up again to stop at my nipple piercings, squirming a little bit while she looks at them; she loves the fucking things.
My hand propels itself forward to grab onto her jaw, pulling her close to me, and I meet her halfway to slip my tongue from my mouth and drag it along the line of her jaw, from her chin all the way to her earlobe, and suck on the skin there.
I could taste her skin for-fucking-ever; I’ll never get sick of it.
The silence in the room rings painfully in my ears while I slide my jeans off to finally free my cock, leaving them on the floor, and I move toward the nightstand to reach for the wall adapter to the magic wand, the head of it secured tightly against Sophia’s cunt.
I watch her while I slide the adapter into the wall socket, waiting for the moment the power kicks on, to see her body jerk and hear her breath catch as the quiet whirring fills some of the silence around us.
Sophia’s eyes stay locked onto me, her eyebrows pinched together, while I settle into the leather armchair tucked into the corner of the room.
I bring my hand to my mouth, spitting into my palm, and wrap it around my cock, holding eye contact with her pussy while I give myself a few long strokes.
Sophia squirms on the bed, her chest heaving, and she tries to pull her legs apart to get free from the wand buzzing away at her clit, but she can’t. I made sure of that.
I pump the length of my cock hard while she watches; aside from the whirring of the vibrator and the quiet sound of skin against skin, the only other noise in the room is the sound of Sophia’s breath coming out in rapidfire little huffs.
When her eyebrow starts to twitch and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, I squeeze the head of my dick to match the pulsing of her cunt.
Her arms and knees struggle against the rope holding them in place, and her mouth falls open while she comes, trying to keep herself silent; and I can barely fucking take it.
A flush spreads over her cheeks when the vibration doesn’t give her a chance to come down, still strong and steady, making her teeth clench.
She stares at my cock while I stroke it, and my free hand balls into a fist. I bring it to my mouth and bite down hard on a finger while I watch her; my breath coming out as a hot pant against my knuckles.
The second time she comes, she looks like she might just damn near cry.
I try to hold out; to force her to lose. I have so many ideas for her funishments.
But watching her writhe in the rope, helpless and at my mercy, every nerve in my body sparks electric and I can’t take it anymore. “I fucking lose,” I growl.
I rush the bed, climbing up onto it and I position myself behind her. I lift her ass until she’s on her kneecaps, only supported by my hands and the rope holding her arms, and she lets out a desperate whimper that sends fire from my scalp straight down to my fucking toes.
“Look at you, all tied up and ready to be used like a fucking toy,” I purr against her ear. “You want me to use you like a toy?”
“Please,” she mewls, writhing against her restraints. “Oh my god, yes.”
Gripping my cock in my hand, I swipe the head of it between her soaked lips before plunging deep inside of her with a groan; the moan that comes out of her when I give her as much as she can take could wake the fucking dead.
I hold onto her hip for dear life with one hand as my balls tighten, bringing the other to my mouth.
I lick my fingertips, bringing my hand down hard to land a rough smack on the exposed skin of her ass.
She cries out as I make contact, and her skin instantly goes red, marked with clearly defined fingerprints.
“One more,” she begs, and I deliver another blow to the same spot.
She falls apart as soon as I make contact; her body quakes and her hot little cunt tightens around my cock while she groans through her orgasm, bringing me right the fuck along with her.
God, she’s perfect; and I don’t just mean the sex.
Sure, that deserves its own brownie points, but it’s not just that.
It’s who she is. The only other person in my life that I’ve been able to open up to or trust in any way that actually mattered is my best friend; and that’s a very fucking different scenario than this is.
I’ve never had this kind of connection with someone on this level.
I’ve never let someone see me cry. I’ve never told them about the worst things that I’ve done, the worst things that I’ve seen. I couldn’t.
She somehow managed to break down a wall built up around me that I had no idea even existed. She looked inside and saw the shitty past and the usually-even-shittier choices, and god knows why, she decided to stick around for more of it.
I wish I could tell her what I think, what I feel about her, but I can’t. If I told her that, it would be real and it would matter.
With her body finally free of the rope, I sit behind her and bring a cool cloth to her skin, running it carefully over the red marks left on her body. “A couple of these are gonna bruise,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, Sugar.”
She lets out a little giggle, twisting her forearm to inspect the rope’s pattern pressed deep into her skin. “I don’t mind. That was a fun game. I’ve never played with rope before.”
“I don’t like the idea of you bruising.”
Her, specifically. I’ve never given a shit if my ropework left bruises on anyone else; it comes with the territory. You play rough, it leaves marks. Hell, I even like the way the bruises look; on me and anyone else. I think they’re beautiful. But on Sophia?
She turns to face me, wrapping her legs around my waist, and her hands cup my face. “I asked to play. I could have tapped out if I didn’t want it; I would have tapped out. Besides, the bruises will be hot.”
“You are something else,” I laugh. “So, what’s your prize?”
Pulling her lips together, she taps a finger on her chin, making a big show of thinking through her options. “I thiiiink…”
“Yes, Sugar?”
“Hmmm.” She trails her eyes from mine, down my body and back up again. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.”
“That wasn’t in the deal.”
“Winner’s choice,” she winks. “So the winner makes the rules.”
My hands finds it way to her throat, wrapping firmly around it, and I bend to meet her lips with a laugh. “Better make it a good one then, you little scammer.”
·
Laying in my bed, I scroll through Netflix until I find a show that would make for good background noise, and I press PLAY. I turn the volume down enough that it won’t bother Sophia, but it’ll make enough sound that I can get some half decent sleep.
Sophia lays draped across my chest. I lay here quietly for a while, listening to be sure that I hear the little breaths she takes when she’s dead to the fucking world asleep.
I don’t cuddle; I’m not the guy a woman comes to when she wants someone to hold her after we have sex.
I don’t mind falling asleep after a long night, but if a woman - or women – wind up sleeping on me or using me like their human pillow, I slide out from under them, roll away, whatever it takes to actively not cuddle with them.
I like having Sophia on me, though. I like smelling her hair while her head rests on my chest. I like the feel of her weight on my body. Hell, I even enjoyed the way she kissed her own lips tattooed onto my chest, and how she played with my nipple jewelry until she fell asleep.
“Sophia?” I whisper, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “You awake?”
She doesn’t say a word, she just keeps taking those little breaths.
They come slowly, just every now and again, and sometimes they’re interrupted by a mumble or a whine, if she’s having a dream.
Tonight, it’s just the little breaths. Soft and quiet, like a fucking kitten.
I wrap my arm around her and hold her tight.
“I do love you,” I whisper to her. “And that scares the shit outta me.”
Her body shifts a little bit on top of mine, and I hold my breath for what feels like five fucking minutes before I can let it back out; if she’d heard me, I don’t think I could take it.