Chapter 28 #2
Lola pulls out a chair dramatically and drops into it like she’s run a marathon. She looks from her sister to me and back to her sister. “Ever is Raven?”
Soph nods.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Sing something.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“You bet your ass I am. I need proof. Sing.”
I’ve been on stage in front of tens of thousands, but this is the most uncomfortable I’ve been in a very long time. I also know I won’t get out of this until I do as she’s asked. I don’t know how many songs she knows, so I pick my most popular and sing the chorus.
I watch goose bumps rise on Soph’s arms and run my hands over them when I’m done. I’m going to ravage this woman the second I get her alone.
Lola looks thunderstruck.
“It’s insane, right?” Soph says to Lola, before turning her head to look at me with wide eyes. “You sound just like you do on the album. How is that possible? You’re fucking killing me, Ev.”
Instead of answering the question, Lola stands and walks into the kitchen.
We watch her climb up on the counter, open the small cabinet over the refrigerator, and pull out a bottle of liquor.
When she hops down, she pulls two shot glasses from another cabinet and returns to the table.
She pours two shots of what I can now see is tequila and slides one across to her sister.
I can’t see Soph’s face, but she picks it up, they clink, and down them.
Lola’s smile grows until it’s ear-to-ear as she pours and takes one more shot alone.
“Good Guy is Ever. And Ever is Raven. O. M. fucking goddess, he’s not your kidney donor or your one-night stand. He’s your fanta—”
Soph cuts her off. “Benji’s standing right behind you.”
Lola rolls her eyes like Soph’s ruined her fun. Benji sits down next to us, and Jess takes a seat next to Lola.
When Jess reaches for the tequila and shot glass, I tell him, “No drinking. You need to go pick up pizza.” Without hesitation, he obeys because he can hear the tension in my voice.
Soph shifts her hips in my lap, the movement small but intentional.
Jesus Christ, we need to get naked.
When Benji asks, “Can we get Da Vinci’s?”
“Oh, we haven’t had Da Vinci’s in ages. That sounds good,” Lola agrees.
When I decide I can speak without sounding like I’m about to shoot my load all over Soph’s back, I ask, “Kidney donor?”
“When Soph started talking to Good Guy, I told her I had a feeling you were supposed to be in her life for a reason.”
“Gotcha. Kidney donor,” I confirm.
Lola nods and then looks at Benji. “Can you go grab my purse? I’ll pay for the pizza.”
When Benji reaches the stairs and is out of earshot, Lola lowers her voice and says, “Not only is Treachery’s Riot Sophie’s favorite band, but you know how everyone has that one person that turns them on like no other?”
Jess answers like it’s a no-brainer, “Zendaya.”
Lola’s jaw drops, and she swivels in her seat to face him. “You’re joking? Same.”
“Are you my spirit animal?” he asks.
Benji yells from the basement, “Mom, where’s your purse?”
“Look in the bathroom! Or it might be under my bed!” she yells, before quieting her voice to answer Jess. “Without a shadow of a doubt, yes. When’s your birthday?”
“February thirteenth.”
“Get. Out. You’re an Aquarius? I’m an Aries.”
He’s shaking his head like he’s confused but also invested. “I have no idea what that means.”
She smiles wickedly. “Oh, it’s good. That’s all you need to know, you precious man.”
The funny thing is, they’re not trying to be funny.
Like she remembered she was in the middle of telling me something important, she spins to face me again. “Raven is Soph’s. When she and Ken fucked, she thought about you.” She says it with a straight face, unfazed.
Soph drops her elbows to the table and her face into her hands. “Lo,” she mutters.
“Who’s Ken?” Jess asks.
“Her ex,” Lola answers, and there’s acid in her tone. “I’ll tell you about the shit biscuit on the way to pick up the pizza.”
Right on time, Benji saves Soph from the conversation when he returns with her purse. “What do you guys want on the pizza? I’ll order online, since it takes thirty minutes to get there.”
Everyone calls out their favorites. “Cheese.” “Canadian bacon and pineapple.” “Pepperoni and mushrooms.”
Three minutes later, we’re finally, blessedly, in an empty house.
And my dick is throbbing.
I place my palms against the skin of her outer thighs.
Her baggy, linen shorts are so short. Sliding my right hand down, I grip her knee and guide it until it’s draped over the outside of my thigh.
I repeat the motion with her left. My legs parted wide, her legs parted wider, I ghost over her inner thighs until I meet the hem of her shorts.
Another inch and I’m brushing the lace trim of her thong.
Whispering, “Did you really think about me…” I press a kiss to the back of her bared neck. “When you…” Her head drops to the side when I trail my tongue just below her ear. “Fucked...” She shivers, and I can’t help but smile into her skin before tugging gently with my teeth. “Your boyfriend?”
Her hand slips between us, and I hiss when she grips me behind her back. I can’t help pumping into her grasp.
“Answer the question.”
Slipping a finger beneath the fabric of her panties, I circle her clit. It’s swollen and greedy.
“Any time I wanted to get off, yes,” she pants. I can hear the smile in her voice when she adds, “Which was every time.” She pauses as I alternate lazy circles with a gentle pinch, and then sighs, “That feels so good.”
It’s like time has slowed down. Every sensation heightened. Every sound filtered to peak arousal. Need pulses between us, syncing our blood rush. Skimming my free hand under her shirt, her abs go taut under my touch.
“What do you need to get off now? I’m here.” Dragging my palm over her tight nipple, I groan. “Do you know how fucking hot it is that you never wear a bra?”
“We should go to my room,” she begs. God, I love how sweet she sounds.
“Come first,” I whisper, as I sink two fingers in.
She strokes me through my shorts as her hips begin to move.
“That’s it. Show me how you want to ride my cock.”
The pace picks up, and her hips rock forward and back, taking in my fingers from tip to third knuckle. Pinching her nipple, I rub it between my calloused finger and thumb, and she squirms with pleasure.
“Good girl,” I growl, pressing an open-mouth kiss to the crook of her neck, before sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“That voice,” she pants, as her free hand reaches back and fists my hair. Her other hand still strokes the straining length of me. “That voice does it for me every time.”
Grinding the heel of my hand against her clit, she writhes and moans, and the need in me coils impossibly tight. The push and pull of it begging to both please and defile us.
“Soph, I want to bend you over this table, pull down your shorts, and fuck.” My voice is so low, I almost don’t recognize it.
“They’ll be gone for at least forty-five minutes. And Mabel is taking her afternoon nap. Do it. Please,” she begs.
I look around the room; the drapes and blinds are all closed.
Decided, I grip the hem of her shorts as she stands, and they puddle around her ankles.
“Bend over.”
When she does, I urge her legs apart. Because I’m seated, she’s only inches from my face.
The thong remains, but other than that, she’s all skin.
Pressing my palms to her ass, I rub circles in the soft flesh.
Spreading them wide to reveal the thin strap of fabric running down her seam. It’s black satin and lace.
Leaning forward, I flattened my tongue against the fabric at her sex. Humming, I add pressure, and she all but detonates.
“Ever, fuck, that’s...” she trails off like words have escaped her.
Slowly, I drag my tongue along skin and lace until I reach the waistband. My stubble is a rasp that leaves her pink. Her entire body shivers, and the sound that comes out of her is new.
“You like that?” I ask, even though it’s obvious she does. I’m greedy and want to hear it.
Her cheek flat against the table, she’s short of breath when she quietly says, “Yes.”
Sliding her panties down, I ask, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she repeats without hesitation.
I stand, dropping my shorts and underwear to the ground, and run my palms along her back, pushing the loose fabric of her cropped shirt out of the way.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I say before kissing a path from her shoulder blade to the dip of her hip.
Every time my lips make contact, it evokes a tiny movement from her, like the wait is driving her wild.
Gripping myself, I run the pad of my thumb through the bead of pre-cum. Instead of edging in like I desperately want to, I press my glistening thumb to her instead and trace the same path my tongue did over her thong. She lifts up on her toes and her back arches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers.
“Are you always this wet?” I ask, plunging a finger inside.
“No.” She stretches her arms out searching for the table’s edge to grab on to. “This is all you.”
Fucking hell, I can’t wait anymore. Slipping my finger out, I nudge only the tip of my cock in.
“More, Ever. I need more,” she begs.
Obeying, I sink in until I’m buried to the hilt.
She gasps a breathless, “That,” and her inner walls clamp deliciously around me.
Closing my eyes, I focus on sensations: slick warmth, pulsing blood, and pure want that makes me dizzy. It’s desire that’s reckless and all-consuming and demanding like I’ve never experienced with any partner before. “You feel like nothing else, Soph.”
As the crescendo builds, I open my eyes, suck the finger I had inside her a few minutes ago into my mouth, and grip her ass cheek with the other hand to expose her to me.
When I stroke my wet fingertip over the sensitive bundle of nerves, she sucks in a breath. And holds it.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, cautiously.
She pauses and exhales. “No.” She sounds curious and turned on, and it only edges me closer to spilling inside her.
When I stroke her again with more pressure, I ask, “Have you ever been touched here?”
Her nails scratch the tabletop as her hands ball into fists, knuckles white, the need for release torturing her like it is me. “No. God, why does this feel so fucking good?”
“What if I could make it feel better?” I tease.
“Impossible,” she whispers.
Dropping my chin, I watch my cock stretching her, working in and out.
Gathering everything pooling in my mouth at the sight of her gorgeous body taking me, I spit.
It hits the target and streams down to my dick, mixing with her arousal.
I work my fingertip back and forth to coat it and work her up.
“Relax, baby,” I whisper, before circling one last time and gently breaching the tight band of muscle.
We both moan. “That’s it. Let go.” My hips engage, and rather than picking up the pace, I go deep. Short, powerful thrusts that feel like heaven. I want to lose myself in this woman and never return. When I nudge her again with my finger, I go further. And further.
The combination sets her off. “Oh, fuck. God, that’s… Fuck… Yes…”
And that’s all it takes before her release is wringing me out, and I’m unloading inside her. I’ve never been exactly quiet during sex, but this is primal. The sounds coming out of me don’t sound human.
Spent, I slump over her and kiss the base of her neck. It’s dewy with sweat. Closing my eyes, I focus on the final aftershocks of her orgasm shuddering through her and smile. The room is warm and smells like sex. This is heaven.
Her chest rises and falls dramatically beneath me, and she sighs contentedly. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”
“Same,” I agree, standing.
When she stands, she turns to face me, and I can’t help but kiss her. What begins soft and slow, soon turns into her on tiptoe, hands curled into the hair at the nape of my neck, tongues intent on sparking round two.
Abruptly, she pries herself away and steps back with a hand on my chest. “We need to stop, or I’m gonna climb you.”
“Finish this in the shower before they get back?” I suggest.
She grins, and it’s the smile I see more and more. It’s the one she wears when the world isn’t bearing down on her, and true happiness glows like the sunrise on the horizon.
“You drive a hard bargain,” she teases.
She strips her T-shirt over her head, and I follow her naked form to the bathroom. The evidence of what we’ve just done running down the inside of her leg.
And just like that, I’m hard again.