57. Foster
FIFTY-SEVEN
FOSTER
I’ve got her shirt and bra off in no time, and then she’s on her back, bared for me. There are so many things I want to do with her at this moment, and I need to pause so I can settle on one of them. The strawberry coulis is practically screaming at me from where she left it on the table, and I treat her body like a canvas, splattering and dripping the viscous red liquid from her lips to her bellybutton.
Sophie watches every move I make, and every so often I see her tongue nearly sneak out for a taste of the rogue coulis that sits in the center of her bottom lip. “That’s mine, sunshine,” I warn her when I think she’s about to give in and I watch as her tongue curls back in her mouth. That tongue that just did delicious things to my body.
I briefly admire my handywork, committing the way the coulis looks on her pale skin to memory, before dropping to swirl my tongue around a nipple, sucking it into my mouth, letting her sounds of pleasure wash over me. She whines when my tongue leaves her skin, her back arching as if trying to convince me to return. I don’t need convincing.
Her fingers wrap around my hair, pulling at the strands, a satisfying sting traveling across my scalp.
“Please, Foster,” she begs and my hands get to work on her tights while my tongue licks the last of the coulis at the base of her throat, right at her collar bone. It’s like I touched her with a live wire. Her legs wrap around my hips and she drags me against her, impeding all progress I was making.
I’m able to pull my hands away before my body crashes down onto hers. “Fuuuuck,” I gasp as she writhes beneath me. It’s impossible to ignore the heat coming off her body and it only makes me desperate to get closer, to be closer.
“Want you,” Sophie gasps as my cock slides over her clit, the sensation of the fabric between us only adding to the need to get out of these pants.
I sit back, pulling her up with me in one swift motion, then I’m on my feet, charging toward my bedroom. I’ve never been so happy to have a small apartment as I reach my bed in six strides.
After I lay her down I step back to look at her. Her hair is fanned out around her head, fucking sunshine blazing back at me.
“Wait.” Sophie sits up, her hands landing on mine as they curl around the top of her pants. I try to stand and step back, but her grip keeps me frozen in place. “Um.” She suddenly looks nervous, her eyes dancing around the area around me but never landing on me.
“What is it, Soph?” My voice is calm, despite my racing heart and the raging erection I’m sporting.
“Rip them?” she asks then shakes her head. “Rip them,” she says again as a demand and not a question.
I stare back, not entirely sure I understand what she’s asking me to do. “Rip…” I look down at her tights, my mouth instantly watering because I know what they’re hiding. “Your pants?”
She nods once and then several more times, more emphatically. “Please,” she begs.
A small laugh escapes because what the hell. “Sorry, it’s not funny, that wasn’t a ‘haha, you’re hilarious’ laugh. That was a…” I look to the ceiling trying to figure out what I’m trying to say because I feel like she may be about to jump up and run from the building. “‘A holy fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard from the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I can’t believe my fucking luck’ laugh.”
She smiles up at me laughing herself, throwing her arm over her face. This should be awkward, these little moments we have in the midst of sex. But they aren’t. They feel like us. Like two people so comfortable together that we can laugh about the ridiculous moments while half naked. The fact that her laugh is as much of a turn on as her telling me to rip her pants open is something that squeezes something deep inside of me. A vice grip on my consciousness, a threat to not mess this up because it’s never going to get better than it is with Sophie Hore.
“Look at me, sunshine.” My voice sounds like it’s being dragged across gravel, but the demand in it isn’t lost on her as she drops her arm and her eyes find mine. “You want me to rip these right”—I run my finger along the seam between her legs, hearing her breath stop as I apply the tiniest bit of pressure—“here?”
Her “yes” is cut off as I rip the seam, watching her face the whole time and relishing in the look of relief that spreads across it.
“No underwear again, eh? This is becoming a habit.” I spread my body over hers, keeping my hand at the new opening in her tights. “I like it,” I growl, sliding my fingers into her and capturing her gasp in a kiss.
I pull away when she’s on the edge and roll toward the nightstand, reaching for a condom. The bed shifts, and then Sophie’s reaching for the foil packet and pushing me down onto my back. She tugs my sweats down just enough to uncover my cock, and I watch in awe as she rips the packet open with her teeth before covering me with a confidence I haven’t seen before.
“Breathe, Foster,” she orders, and I realize I haven’t taken a breath since her hands wrapped around me. “Such a good listener,” she purrs against my lips when I take a gulp of air into my lungs.
All the air I took in leaves my body as she sinks down onto me slowly, her eyes on mine the whole way. She begins to unravel me as she gives her hips a little swivel, and I have to grab her and hold her still.
“Need a minute,” I breathe out, my jaw clenched tight as I work at getting a handle over my body. Sophie is too much at any time but right now, seeing her like this, in control, uninhibited, it’s beyond.
She remains still, her fingers trailing over the Fellowship marching across my chest. It’s not exactly helping matters, but I’m not about to stop her.
When I reach a place where it doesn’t feel like I’m about to go off the minute she moves again, I lift my hips, watching her expression go from contentment to pleasure. A stuttered breath paired with her nails creating little crescents on my chest has me thrusting up harder.
“So good,” she chants, falling forward so we’re chest to chest. My hands hold her hips in place so I can keep up the pace I’ve set that she’s so clearly enjoying. Her pants next to my ear, little moans and gasps filling the room, wipe every thought that isn’t about her from my mind.
“Harder,” she urges, the word cut off as her back hits the bed, and I bring my mouth down to hers for a kiss that reprograms every part of my brain.
“Hold on, sunshine,” I whisper before giving her what she wants.
She says something but it’s incoherent, letters and sounds jumbled together as her back arches, her neck straining with a moan I can see but can’t hear.
“Touch yourself?” It comes out as a question and I clear my throat and try again. “Touch yourself, gorgeous.”
I watch as she sucks two fingers into her mouth and then follows my direction. Nothing on earth could have prepared me for this version of Sophie. My sweet sunshiney girl knows what she wants and she does not hold back. The feeling of her tensing around me mixed with the view below me, creamy skin with criss-crosses of sticky strokes from my tongue leaves me no choice as I splinter into a million pieces.
Gathering her up, we hold one another as the aftershocks rock our bodies.
The sound of laughter has me pulling back. “What?”
“We are so sticky,” she cackles, and I join in when I look down to see how our skin slowly pulls apart.
“We should probably shower,” I suggest.
“Together?” she asks demurely, as if she hadn’t recently demanded that I fuck her harder.
“Obviously.”