Chapter 33 #2
I swallow.
“I don’t want to scare you,” I say quietly.
“But I’m done pretending this is smaller than it is.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“I love you.”
The words leave me without hesitation.
“I loved you then, even if I never said it. And I love you now.”
Sophie’s eyes fill.
I wait.
For once, I don’t try to control what comes next.
She moves closer until our knees touch.
“I loved you too,” she says.
“That’s why losing you hurt so badly.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“And now?” I ask.
She looks at me for a long moment.
“Now I’m terrified.”
I almost smile.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I know.”
Her thumb moves slowly against my wrist.
Then she says, “I still love you.”
Every muscle in my body goes still. Sophie’s eyes stay on mine.
“I just don’t want us to spend the rest of our lives trying to recreate something that existed before.”
“We won’t,” I say.
“I need this to be ours now.”
“It is.”
“No guilt.”
“No.”
“No trying to make up for lost time.”
“I can’t make up for it anyway,” I say.
She nods.
I lean closer until there’s barely any space left between us.
“What I can do is be here now.”
Her breathing changes.
“So am I,” she says.
I slide my hand from her cheek into her hair, and Sophie leans into me before I even close the distance.
I lean in and kiss her. At first, she freezes—but only for a second. Then she melts into me. Her hands press against my chest, then grip my shirt. I pull her closer, lips locked, breathing her in like I’ve been starved.
The movement ignites something in me. I lean in again, this time deeper, hungrier.
She parts her lips, welcoming me in. My lips trail down her jaw, her throat.
I kiss and lick her neck, her breath hitching, fingers fisting in my shirt.
My hands slide beneath her dress, palms filled with her warm skin.
I find her breast under her bra, full and soft, and I pull them out of the cup and take them in my mouth.
My cheeks hollow as I suck—hard. She gasps as I alternate between her nipples.
They stiffen against my tongue as I suck on them feverishly.
She pulls at the bottom of my shirt, her fingers scrambling at the hem. She pulls it out of my pants, and unbuttons it fast, tearing it off. Her lips move on my jaw, my neck, and my chest.
I shrug out of the shirt completely, as she begins to unhook my belt. Her hands on my chest and my abs. Feverish. I grip the straps of her dress and begin to pull it straight off her body, tossing it to the side. She’s sitting there in nothing but lace.
I kneel between her thighs and yank her panties down roughly, as we stumble toward the massive rug in front of her sofa. Tangled limbs and heavy breath. She arches off the floor, hips lifting to help me, and I toss them aside with the same hunger I feel pounding in my chest.
Her legs fall open and I grip her thighs, sliding my hand between them.
She’s soaked. I drag two fingers through her folds and feel her juices already pooling out of her.
My cock is hard—throbbing, straining—painful against the tight zipper.
I undo my pants, shove them down along with my briefs, kicking them off without care.
Then I grip her hips and drag her closer; no teasing. No waiting.
I need to be inside her. It’s been too fucking long.
I fist my cock and guide the tip to her entrance.
Her legs are wide open, my knees planted deep in the softness beneath us.
I slam into her—fast and hard and we both cry out.
Our moans vibrate against the walls. She wraps her legs tight around my waist as I bury myself to the hilt.
Her nails scratch down my back—hot, jagged streaks of pleasure-pain.
She bites my shoulder as I begin to thrust, deep and fast, no rhythm at first—just raw need.
I growl low in my throat. She moans louder, rolling her hips to meet mine.
I fuck her like I’ve waited a lifetime. Hard.
Primal. Unrelenting. The sound of our skin slapping echoes through the room, obscene and beautiful, with the knowledge that no one is around to hear us.
I shift my weight, grip her hips tighter, and lift her slightly—just enough to slam into her at the perfect angle. She gasps. Loud. Sharp.
“God, Julian—” she chokes out.
She’s close. I can feel it. Her pussy clenches around me, squeezing, her wetness coating my dick as I drive in harder. But I keep going. I can feel the ridge of my dick deep inside of her guts.
It feels like heaven.
Her moans escalate as her orgasm peaks—violent and deep. Her thighs quake. Her hands claw harder into my back as her body tenses, then jerks with every wave of her release. She creams all over my dick as she moans through it, long and ragged but I still keep going.
Her juices spill around my cock, soaking my balls.
The sound. The feel of her creaming me. Her nails in my flesh.
Her erotic cries in my ear. I can’t hold back any longer.
I bury myself one last time and come—deep inside her, grunting low and hard as my cock pulses.
Loads of my cum pour into her in heavy, endless waves, thick and hot as I stay buried inside of her walls.
I don’t move. I hold myself there, allowing every last drop to spill inside of her. My arms wrapped around her frame—my body and cock still jerking with the final aftershocks. Then I drop my head to her chest, her heart hammering under my cheek.
We lay there.
Tangled.
Breathless.
Spent.
Just everything we’ve been holding back… unraveling on her living room floor.