Chapter 23
twenty-three
As soon as I hear the shower turn on, I jump out of bed and peel the oversized T-shirt Susan gave me last night over my head.
Digging through my backpack, I realize quickly that a new outfit fit to seduce a sex god has not magically materialized, and I’m stuck with the same old tees and tank tops to choose from.
At least they’re all clean. I pluck the fitted black tank from the stack and slip it on.
Standing in front of the mirror, I assess.
It doesn’t look bad with the midnight blue sheer thong I’m wearing.
“Thanks, Lo,” I whisper.
Reaching up, I pull the scrunchie from my hair and shake it out. It’s still a little damp from my earlier shower, so I finger comb it. The dark waves end a few inches above my waist. I inherited my mom’s hair, and it’s the one thing about my appearance I’ve always loved.
Returning to my backpack, I retrieve a tube of tinted lip balm and coat my lips and dab a little on the apples of my cheeks.
Standing back, I take one more look at myself in the full-length mirror and think, Not too damn bad, Sophie Wren.
Looking around the room, I weigh the options: king-size bed, desk chair, or love seat. I walk to the love seat first and take a seat, crossing my legs. I feel stiff and awkward, and the upholstery is scratchy on my ass.
“Nope,” I say out loud and move to the bed where I lie on the fluffy, white comforter and stretch out, attempting a pose. In my mind, I’m a temptress, but when I raise my head and glance in the mirror on the wall, I look like I tripped and landed here by accident.
Even worse, I think.
Dragging the desk chair closer to the full-length mirror, I hesitate. If I suggested anything like this to Chance, he would’ve made a snide comment about me reading too much smut and shot the idea down.
In the end, as I hear the water turn off, I sit in the middle of the bed.
Crossing my legs at the ankle and leaning back on my hands, I close my eyes, tip my head back, and breathe.
In with the hell yeah, out with the hell no, I recite to myself to try to calm my nerves.
I’m having trouble deciding if I’m more nervous or excited.
The way my heart is racing, it’s hard to tell.
“Calm down, calm down, calm down,” I whisper, before dropping my chin and opening my eyes.
Ever’s standing at the foot of the bed. He licks his lips. “If you were standing where I am and could see what I can see, you’d know that’s gonna be impossible.”
His inky-dark hair is wet, and there are droplets of water scattered on his chest, like he did a half-ass job drying off with the towel that’s currently wrapped around his waist and doing nothing to disguise that he’s ready to go.
The heat that runs through me is primal. Swallowing hard, I agree, “Yes, it is.”
“Come here.” His voice is ragged.
Crawling toward him, I rise up on my knees when I reach him. I don’t know if it’s because the bed is so tall he has to look up slightly to meet my eyes, or the hunger in his gaze, but it makes every self-conscious thought evaporate, replaced by confidence I’ve never felt before.
A large hand comes to rest on each hip, his thumbs brushing back and forth twice before they impatiently hook the thin straps of my panties and drag them down to my knees.
“Remind me we have all day, Soph, because I want to be inside you,” his hand trails up my inner thigh, “right fucking now.”
When one of those long, exquisite fingers hits the spot, I exhale a trembling breath. And when it languidly strokes back and forth a few times, slick with my arousal, I swear my soul leaves my body.
He burrows his face into my hair, the tip of his nose nuzzling the side of my neck, “You’re,” before his teeth nip, “dripping.”
My hands have a mind of their own, gliding over taut, sculpted muscle like I’m memorizing every plane by touch. Reaching for the towel, I release it and glide the back of my knuckles up the length of him.
He moans, shakily, his lips brushing the underside of my jaw before they skim down my neck to capture flesh, sucking. Tongue pressed flat against me as he releases, and my heart skips a beat.
“This is gonna be even better than I imagined, isn’t it?” My words are loud in my own head, competing with the blood pounding through me and the air, so heavy, filling my lungs. I’ve never been this aware of my body before.
“Without a doubt.” One hand has snaked under my shirt, touch light and inquisitive. The other still between my legs, touch knowing and focused. When the tip of his finger presses into me, then retreats, pleasure shimmers in my veins.
“Do that again,” I say, my lips pressed to the shell of his ear.
He repeats the tease again. And again. Until I’m a quivering mess.
“Fuck, that feels good.” I’m not sure the words made it out or if they only exist in my head, but when he sinks two fingers deep and sighs, “Yes, it does,” I know he heard me.
He feels like velvet, heat, and need when I wrap my hand around him. Stroking slowly root to head, he stills and a hiss escapes him. “Goddamn.”
Leaning in, I expect the same urgency the rest of his body is radiating, but his lips are soft and gentle. When he deepens the kiss and his teeth tug at my bottom lip, I pause and whisper against his lips, “Sit on the chair.”
The pad of his thumb brushes so tantalizingly close to the hard peak under my shirt that I squirm with need. He knows what he’s doing, I feel the impression of his smile against my cheek. One final curve of his fingers inside me, dragging over ridges that make me clamp down around him.
His voice is raspy when he says, “You’re gonna milk me fucking dry.”
Stripping my shirt off, he steps back and reaches for a bag on the dresser behind him and takes out a small box.
Tearing it open, he pulls out a string of foil packets, disengages one, and tosses the rest on the bed.
While he sits on the chair, his eyes lock with mine, he raises the shiny square to his mouth and tugs at it with his teeth.
“On now?” he asks, clearly letting me take the lead.
I glance down at his cock, and my mouth waters. There are so many things I want to do to him, with him, that it’s hard to decide where to start. Climbing off the bed, I let my panties slip from my knees to the floor and step out of them.
“On now,” I say.
But when he grips the base and poises the condom at the tip, I stop him. “Wait.”
He freezes and looks up at me, calmly awaiting instruction.
“I need another minute of this.” That big, beautiful hand wrapped around that big, beautiful cock. “When you’re alone, thinking about what we’re about to do, what does that look like?”
His pupils have erased any hint of iris, and unblinking, his grip tightens, and his wrist engages. The motion slow. I can’t take my eyes off it, but when his hips curve forward and upward to join in, it’s so obscenely good that I momentarily question if I’m dreaming.
Licking my lips, my eyes drift back up his body to his face.
“Your body is a fucking work of art,” I tell him, before moving on to the practical matter at hand.
“I have an IUD. I’d still love to watch you roll that on, because it’s always been a turn-on for me, but then it’s up to you if you want to wear it or not. ”
He rolls it on, the latex straining, and everything in me aches to touch him. But as hot as it is, it’s nothing compared to watching him snap it off.
Taking his face in my hands, I widen my stance and step into him. My lips touch his at the same time I sink down, and he guides himself inside me. We both moan through the kiss.
The stretch is biting, and the fullness divine. The sheer size of him is transcendent. Canting my hips, I ease back. Then forward. My body adjusting to being filled so completely. The ebb and flow rolling through me into him.
Pausing the kiss, Ever turns his head to look in the mirror next to us.
I do the same. Watching.
His hands move up my torso, palming a breast in each hand and squeezing.
“Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he says to my reflection.
His warmth and the solid mass of the man are enough to overwhelm my senses, but when that voice joins in, it’s like adding gasoline to an open fire.
The roll of my hips has no choice but to become more pronounced. With anyone else I would feel vulnerable and exposed, shamelessly watching. But with him there’s no second-guessing. I feel safe. I feel desired.
His hands move back to my hips, but only briefly before sliding down to my ass, fingertips digging in. His hips are moving too. Breaths are loud, movement less fluid and more frenetic. Every pleasure receptor has been triggered, and my entire body is throbbing with need.
“God, I’m so close already,” I pant as I drop my heels to the ground to change the angle.
When my clit makes contact and the precursor of an orgasm sparks, I writhe against him, chasing friction that makes me see stars. I’ve never come during sex without touching myself, but it’s happening.
When his hand gathers my hair and tugs and his tongue circles my nipple, I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a curse and a scream.
The explosion is a mushroom cloud in my low belly that spreads heat through my torso and melts through my limbs. As the second shockwave hits, I press my face to his neck, and rather than screaming like I want to, I bite down into his trap muscle, unable to stop myself.
“Soph,” he grits out when he can’t hold back anymore. I’m in his grip, resting on his thighs, his ass rising from the chair to buck into me. My name chanted to coincide with each surge inside.
He stills as the final wave fades, and I’m utterly boneless in his embrace.
I kiss the spot where impressions of my teeth remain.
“Sorry, that was so quick. It’s never happened that fast,” I admit. “I think your cock might be magic.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Touching you, feeling you, fucking you…I assure you, I am not the one who possesses the magic.”
Looping my arms around his neck, I rest my forehead against his. “I feel like we should test the magic cock or magic cunt theory again to be sure.”
He hugs me to him as he stands, and I wrap my legs around him. “Over and over,” he says, as he lays me on the bed.
Inching my way up to the pillows, I get comfortable as he stands at the foot of the bed watching me.
“Show me,” he commands.
Parting my legs under the heat of his stare is like nothing else. I feel like a goddess.
“Touch yourself. It’s my turn to watch.”
My eyes find his, and my fingers obey. An achingly tight nipple caressed and tweaked, while the other glides between folds sticky with him.
My eyelids drift closed as the familiar need sneaks in and builds. Circling my clit, I give it a pinch and then rub when the electric tingle begins.
I’ve lost minutes when I open my eyes to him crawling on the bed and settling between my legs.
“Is it okay if we never leave this bed?” he asks, before placing a kiss between my breasts. "Because I want to live inside you, Soph.”