“I don’t think you’ve ever been scared a day in your life,” Soph says into the dark. I try to stifle my laughter, but it escapes me, coming out in hard, clipped bitter sounds.
“Oh, I’ve been afraid. More times than I can count. Any man who’s found himself on the other side of the world, watching his friends get blown up, shooting thirteen-year-old boys because they’re about to firebomb a hospital, running around inside sandstone houses, screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to survive, to save other people, to make things right…anyone who claims to have done that and remained unafraid is a fucking liar. Believe me.”
Sophia doesn’t say anything. I don’t think she knows what to say. I run my hand up and down her naked back, letting my fingers trace over the soft silkiness of her skin, and I feel her body slowly, unwittingly responding to me. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, but her back arches, pressing her breasts up against my chest as she shivers a little.
“Can you do something for me, sugar?” I say.
“Yes. What?”
“Come up here.” I turn suddenly, taking her with me, lifting her on top of me as I lay flat on my back. I can feel her everywhere, our bodies flush against one another, hot and slightly sweaty—with summer in full force, that’s almost impossible to avoid. I love tasting perspiration on her skin, though. It’s sweet and salty at the same time, and the gentle sheen of it on her skin gives her a sexy, flustered look.
Sophia’s bottom lip is only inches away from my mouth, plump and deep red, swollen a little, it would seem, from where she’s been worrying at it with her teeth.
“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she whispers. “It’s so exhausting. I just want to feel…I just want to be free of it all. Just for a moment.”
“I can do that for you, sugar.”
She gives me a wry smile. “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am. I have a proven track record, after all. Would you like me to demonstrate my capabilities?”
She nods silently. I want to bite at the smooth, soft, delicate skin of her neck for some inexplicable reason, hard enough that I leave a mark, but I feel like that kind of foreplay might not be appropriate in these quiet, heavy hours of the morning. I cup her ass in both my hands instead, squeezing slightly, testing my boundaries. Her ass is phenomenal—her curves are perfection in so many ways; she has a butt most Hollywood celebrities would pay good money for. My hands are just big enough to grasp the swell of her toned cheeks. She breathes in sharply when I spread them apart a little, running a finger over her exposed flesh, down, down, toward her pussy.
She’s not soaking wet yet, but she will be soon. For now, I stroke my fingers over the soft skin of her pussy lips, enjoying how smooth and responsive she is. I love teasing her from behind like this. Coming from a different angle means our bodies are still crushed together, hers on top of mine, and I can still feel her heart beating against my ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall against me. It’s fucking perfect.
My dick is growing harder by the second. Sophia must be able to feel it digging into her as it increases in size, pressing into her belly, demanding attention. I want to push my way inside her so badly. It would be easy enough; I could grab her by her thighs and yank them apart, pull her up a little so we were in the perfect position for me to slam myself home. Where would the fun in that be, though?
No, I need her to be ready for me when I finally sink myself inside her. I need her to want me more than she’s ever wanted anything in her whole entire life. Only then will I know I’ve fucked her right. I kiss her, winding her hair around my free hand, holding on tight so I can control her head. I work my tongue over hers, stroking the inside of her mouth with the tip, tasting her, licking her, making her breath quicken as she writhes on top of me. Fuck yes. Gradually, she begins to grind her hips against mine, causing the most intense friction between our bodies, making my dick throb.
My balls are aching like they’re about to burn up and ignite from the inside out—they need her hands on them, her wet, hot, perfect mouth—but I can wait. I’m on a mission, and Sophia has no idea what I’ll do to accomplish it. “Kneel,” I say to her. I pant the word into her open mouth as she moans. “Get up on your knees, Sophia.”