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“Oh!”
When it seemed like she wasn’t going to relax and ease down onto my cock I took her hips and did it for her. Her eyes widened. This time when she said, “Oh,” it was more of a moan.
“That’s it.” I thrust up into her. Damn, that hot, wet, tight pussy. I could get addicted to it. “Now, you move. Just test it out, see what works for you.”
Sophie took a deep breath and splayed her hands out on my chest. “I like your tattoos,” she said, moving her thumbs up and down in an odd gesture of intimacy.
“Thanks,” I said gruffly. Some of them I was proud of, some were stupid, gotten while drunk or pissed off or determined to prove something. Last time I had bothered to count, I had seven. “Now, show me what you got, Sophie.”
I saw her visibly and intentionally relax her shoulders, rolling them back. She did the same to her hips, giving in to gravity and letting her body sink more fully onto mine. Then Sophie reached up and pulled a hair from her lip, before raking her hair back at her temples. It gave me the world’s best view of her tits and I reached up and cupped them, teasing at her nipples.
She seemed startled by that but after a second she started to move. The first few motions were awkward, but then she got into it. She found her spot and she settled into a steady stroke. I forced myself to just watch and let her discover her body, her pleasure. It was hot as hell to see the understanding slowly dawning and she rode her way to an orgasm.
At one point she leaned forward and rested her hands on the bed on either side of me; most likely her leg muscles were tired. Sophie didn’t look athletic. Her nipples brushed against my chest. Her hair fell forward, a dark curtain around my face. She was making sweet sounds of ecstasy and I felt like if I could close my eyes, I could breathe them in. That I could absorb her innocence into my pickled and tainted self. But just before I let my eyes drift shut so I could enjoy the feel of her wet pussy gripping me, I realized there were tears in her eyes. Not trailing down her cheeks. Just moisture welling.
It startled me but I didn’t want to call her out or embarrass her. I just reached up and cupped her cheek and stroked the softness of her skin. I was out of my element here. I didn’t think she was physically hurting. Especially because she actually picked up the pace, seeming a little frantic to find the ultimate pleasure. I wondered if she was crying from frustration, chasing an orgasm. So I reached down and found her swollen clit. I circled the pad of my finger over it and she let out a cry, her orgasm sweeping over her.
I’ve seen a lot of women break. More than I could count, not that I ever had. But I had never seen a woman’s eyes light up with the first dawn of understanding of what passion was, and what it could be. Watching Sophie was a new experience. One that both made me feel tender toward her and scared the fucking shit out of me. I didn’t want her to have feelings for me. She couldn’t fall for me. That was a bad idea. The stupidest move a genius girl could make.
When she slowed her motions, her hands were trembling. Her lip was trembling. Her breathing was huge and cresting. Something that resembled a sob ripped from her, and a tear squeezed out and slid down her cheek. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, swiping at her eye. “I’m not upset. It just feels so damn good. I can’t explain it.” She raised a shaky leg and collapsed onto the bed beside me. “I didn’t know that it would be like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, voice gravelly. Rough. She had touched something in me. Something I had thought was frozen solid. Sophie Bigelow and her big, brown eyes had started a thaw at the edges of my icy soul.
Sophie shook her head. “I can’t stay up like that any longer.” She reached over and stroked me, watching me. “You’ll have to take over.”
Part of me wanted to get an answer out of her. Figure out why there were still tears in her eyes. The larger part of me wanted to avoid her answers as firmly as I avoided sobriety. If she didn’t want to tell me, it was none of my fucking business.
So I rolled her fully onto her back and I thrust inside her warm and welcoming body. The soft moan she gave was everything. Music to my ears. Her eyes drifted shut. I couldn’t look away. Watching her had me transfixed. Damn, she was beautiful. So sweet, so trusting. So fucking sexy.
I buried my hand in her hair so I could wrap it around my fingers and tug just a little. Force her eyes open. I wanted her to see me when she came. I wanted her to know that it was me making her feel this way.
“What?” she asked, even as she rolled her hips, met me thrust for thrust.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just look at me when you come.”
“How do you know I’m going to come?”
“I can feel it.” I could. I could also see it in the blush that spread across her chest above her breasts. In the way her breathing froze momentarily. And the way her pussy clenched onto me. It was there in her eyes too, as they widened right before she came.
She was doing all of that now.
“You’re going to come, Sophie, aren’t you?”
She nodded, soundless. Then she broke with a little cry of pleasure.
When she would have allowed her eyes to drift shut I gruffly commanded, “Look at me. Let me see you.”
I wanted her to experience all of this. Every minute. And hell, if I was honest, I wanted to take that view for myself. Hold on to it. See that gorgeous fucking face when she realized that my cock had rocked her to hot, wet pleasure.
She was gasping for air as she came down, but I took her hard, careening toward the edge myself. It had been a long time since I had fucked someone when I was sober. It was amazing how much more I felt. It was like every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Alcohol dulled my sensations, made me numb. A frozen cock pumping into a hot body. But this? Fucking amazing. I felt alive. I felt everything. The hot, sweet heat of her tight pussy. The silk of her skin. The brush of her fingertips against my chest.
It was in that place of explosive sensation that I came too, allowing myself a curse and her name to leave my lips.
Then I was collapsing on her, crushing her, but not caring. I rested my forehead on hers. “Damn.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah.”
I fell to the side and stroked her arm. I had to know. “So why were you crying? Are you sure I wasn’t hurting you?”
