Sophie plucked my Farm-Way T-shirt out of a shopping bag and carefully pulled it over my head.
“Thank you,” I said quietly as her soft hands smoothed the clean cotton over my chest. She was only a few inches away, and her nearness overwhelmed me. I just wanted to pull her down on the sofa, curl my body around her and never let go.
She blinked up at me, her wide eyes solemn. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” she whispered.
It was a perfect echo of the words I’d said to her on Thanksgiving. But I really wasn’t ready to hear it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Sophie in my life. I wanted her very badly. I just wanted there to be a better me to give her in return. Not some guy who got beat up by drug dealers, who was currently couch-surfing at his only friends’ house.
Right.
I took a couple of steps away to regain my composure, closing the TV room door so I wouldn’t flash May while I changed. A pair of my boxers was visible in the bag Sophie had brought, so I plucked them out.
Sophie tugged the towel out of my grip. “Sit down,” she said.
“I can handle this part,” I said, sitting on the edge of the freshly made-up couch.
To my surprise, she dropped to her knees, put her elbows on my thighs and began dropping kisses at the juncture of my groin and thigh.
“Fuck,” I whispered as goosebumps rose up on my skin. “Sophie,” I warned.
“The door is closed. Since when are you a prude?”
I groaned as she began dropping open-mouthed kisses across my lower belly. It quickly became clear that my dick had been uninjured by this latest bout of bad luck. As Sophie leaned in, blood flowed south, and quickly. She wrapped her arms around my body, resting her cheek against my thickening cock. Her sigh was deep and soft against my skin. She turned her head a few degrees and kissed the tip of my cockhead sweetly. “Sit back,” she commanded. “Let me make you feel good.”
And just like that, I was getting blown on the Shipleys’ couch on a chilly Tuesday evening. Wind rattled the windows as she stroked her wicked tongue from my root to my tip. “Oh, damn,” I stammered. Her lips parted and she took me deep. My body began to crackle everywhere, like fresh logs catching in the fireplace.
Whoosh. I was just gone.
“Mmm,” Sophie moaned around my dick. She gave a good, hard suck that had my eyes practically crossed. “Love the taste of you,” she whispered, her eyes flicking up to look at me. Then she ducked back down and took me into her mouth again.
The sight of her head bobbing over my cock was crazy-making. With my good hand I gathered her hair in my fingers. “Fuck,” I gasped as her own hand slipped between my legs to stroke my balls. Rolling my hips forward, I bit back a moan. “You kill me,” I bit out. “Come here. Want your mouth.” I tugged her upward.
Sophie rose and our lips crashed together. Right away I pushed my tongue into my mouth, tasting her. Claiming her. No matter how many hours I’d spent trying to convince my heart that Sophie was off limits, my body always fought back. Mine said my good arm, pulling her in close. Mine said my mouth as I welcomed her in.
Mine said Sophie’s hand as she palmed my dick, stroking me like a champ.
I was already close. Too close. “Ride me,” I invited, knowing my injuries would prevent me from doing my best work in bed.
But she just smiled against my lips, swirling her thumb over my slit. Sophie played me like one of the pianos in the practice rooms where she used to sing after school, her sweet voice rising up to slay me every time I heard it. I rolled my hips, fucking her hand, because I couldn’t resist.
“Look out,” I gasped as my pleasure began to crest.
Instead of getting out of the way, Sophie slid quickly down, taking me into her mouth once again. The exquisite shock of it broke me, and I groaned so loudly that the cows out in the barn probably heard me. Then I was coming and cursing and stroking her hair one-handed.
When the dust settled, I was leaning against the back of the sofa, breathing hard. Sophie kissed my belly softly, relaxing against my hip. “You spoil me,” I said quietly.
“Someone should.” She got up and found my boxers and the clean pair of sweats she’d brought me. Dropping those in my lap, she picked up a glass of apple cider that May had brought me earlier and drained it.
I pulled on my clothes and then lay down on the sofa. “Come here,” I demanded. “I want to hold you.”
She looked down at me and frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, please. I’m too mean to die. Get down here.”
Carefully, she curled up with her back to my chest. I kissed the back of her head and hugged her with my knees. “All we’ve ever had were stolen moments,” I said, even though it was too sad of an idea for this moment. “I wish I could hold you all night.”
“You will,” she said quickly.
“Not likely.”