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Her teeth nip at my bottom lip, then she says one word. “Go.”
Our tongues collide a few seconds before Sophie reaches down to line me up, even though I know she must be aching from all the times I pounded into her last night. Still, she grinds on me until she sinks down those first few inches.
My chuckle at her impatience turns into a groan of pleasure when her walls tighten around me. “Fuck, yes.” I love that snug fit made only for my cock, my tongue, my fingers to fill it.
While thrusting upward, forcing my way deeper, I reach around to penetrate her virgin hole again with my fingertip and slide my tongue over hers. I give her exactly what she wanted, all of me I can get inside of her.
Unlike the women before her, Sophie doesn’t just use my body parts. She cherishes them, the pleasure I give her, the intimacy. I know because I feel the same about her beautiful body.
Her breath catches just before she cries out, “Oh, god!”
“You think you’re full now…” I tell her. “I want to bury myself here one day soon.”
“Yes,” she agrees, willing to give me anything I want or need from her. She comes so hard and fast, clenching around my finger and shaft.
“God, baby. I love it when you come on me, so tight and wet. Makes me fucking crazy.” Before her shudders end, I toss her onto her back to fuck into her harder, faster. I pin her wrists above her head, not just to restrain her but also intertwine our fingers. She’s completely at my mercy, and I fucking love it.
I love her.
That whimper escapes her lips, the one I crave, making me growl into her neck. “Come for me again. Use that tight cunt of yours to milk me dry.”
She does, and it’s…everything.
I erupt, shuddering through waves of pleasure. A pleasure that lingers. It’s a kind of euphoria that lasts long after my orgasm ends.
Sex with Sophie somehow gets better every single time. I don’t know how that’s possible. Fucking has always felt great, at least while it lasts. But with her, it’s different. It’s like I spent my life having a watered-down, skim milk version of fucking before I met her.
There’s one huge difference between my wife and all the other women I’ve been with. I never loved any of them. Or respected them. Hell, I barely even liked a few. Sophie makes me feel shit I never thought was possible.
As soon as I pull out of her and glance down all those happy endorphins from mind-blowing sex disappear. “Goddamm it,” I mutter at the sight of the crimson mixed in with the cream of our mutual releases.
“What?” Sophie asks. She’s still lying prone on the bed, boneless from the great sex, her tangled black hair spilling around her in a beautiful puddle.
It’s an effort to look away from her, to swallow around the growing boulder lodged in my throat, because despite her claim to love me, this still might change everything. “You’re bleeding.”
“Bleeding?” she repeats as if she can’t comprehend the meaning of the word in her sex haze.
“Either I fucked you too hard or your period just started.”
Sophie’s brow is furrowed for a long moment as she considers the two possibilities. Maybe it makes me an asshole, but I hope I was just too rough.
Her hand slides down to her lower belly, and she winces as if her pelvis aches before lifting her head to look at the evidence for herself. “I thought…oh god,” she whispers before she scrambles off the bed and rushes into the bathroom. The sound of the door slamming shut is more ominous than it should be.
It’s her period.
Sophie’s not pregnant, which means…I don’t know what the fuck it means, and that infuriates me.
39
Sophie
After I take a hot shower, I have to wrap a towel around me to go get clothes and feminine products from my bedroom.
Lochlan’s in his closet, an open suitcase on the bed when I start to walk back through. He returns, tossing a hanging wardrobe bag down beside the luggage.
“Are you leaving?” I ask him even though it’s obvious he’s packing to go somewhere.
He barely glances at me before he gets back to work, unzipping the bag. “Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”
