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I struggle to hold still, but she gently cups my balls and gives them a little tug. A groan rumbles in my throat. It turns to an outright whimper as she bends down and mouths the head of my cock.
Not enough.
“Sophie…”
“Mmmm?” The sound vibrates against my skin, and a throb of pained pleasure pushes through me .
I nudge upward, but she evades. A teasing lick flickers on my tip. “Fuck… Suck it, Darling. Suck it well.”
Brown eyes smile up at me, and she does, for one glorious pull, sucking me deep and tight. I arch off the bed, groaning. But she stops there and plays with me again, her pouty lips barely wrapped around my flesh.
Heat flushes my skin, and I give her what she wants. “Please. Please…”
And she does please me, lavishing me with attention, drawing out my pleasure as if her pleasure is connected to seeing mine. I lose myself in her, until my throat tightens with emotion and my balls clench with impending release.
I don’t want to spend in her mouth. Not this time. I pull her up, trying to be gentle, but my hands shake. She makes a noise of protest that I swallow down with a kiss as I tumble her onto her back, fumbling to hike up her skirt.
“I wasn’t finished,” she pants between kisses.
My hand slides beneath her little pink panties. Sweet slickness greets my fingers.
“I need to be in here.” I pet her soft, swollen sex before plunging in deep. And she cries out—a lovely plea that makes me greedy to hear more of them.
I kiss her mouth as my fingers work her within the tight fit of her panties. She moves with me, her hips thrusting and grinding on my hands. Our breath mingles, growing disjointed.
No more waiting. I wrench her knickers off, roll between her thighs spread wide for me. The first push into her is agony and heaven, because nothing will ever feel as good as fitting myself inside Sophie. We’re both frantic now, panting. I know she expects me to plough her hard and fast.
I slow down, cup her cheeks and softly kiss her as I slowly work her slick clasp.
“Gabriel,” she whimpers into my mouth. “More.”
I know she means faster. I plunge as deep as I can and hold it until she quivers before easing back out.
“I’ll give you everything,” I whisper.
She eats at my mouth, her body wriggling beneath me as she tries to change the tempo. But I have her where I want her. I move in her, let her feel each inch. She huffs out a half-laugh, half-disgruntled complaint.
“Sophie.” My voice is clear and firm, demanding her attention.
Her eyes meet mine, and I let her see everything—what she is to me, what she does to me.
Her breath hitches, her eyes wide and shining. I feel her body yield, becoming softer.
“Gabriel.” Her trembling fingers touch my cheek.
And suddenly I’m terrified. Because she does see me, every dark corner and imperfect edge. It sparks something between us. I can’t look away or stop myself from rocking into her, saying with my body what I’m too afraid to utter.
Take me, have me, love me.
But I don’t need to say those things, because I know in that instant that she already does. On rumpled, linen sheets, she claims me, body and soul, and then offers herself right back. In that moment, I am no longer Scottie or Gabriel, I am something more. I am home. Finally. At last. Forever.
* * *
Sophie
* * *
All good things must come to an end. I knew my time with Gabriel to myself had a limit; he’s too much of a workaholic to stay on vacation for very long. But though we had two glorious weeks to ourselves, it doesn’t feel like enough. Still, I cannot deny that it’s done him well.
Days of sleeping until midday, spending lazy hours in bed making love, or lounging by the pool soaking up the sun, have given him a healthy glow and an easy smile in his eyes.
Days of drinking rich red wine and sopping up olive oil with crusty bread, devouring ripe tomatoes and creamy cheese, have filled out the hollows in his cheeks.
I thought Gabriel was gorgeous when I met him. Now I realize I hadn’t gotten the full story. He’s robust, deeply tanned, and so attractive in his tailored linen suit that I get a little lightheaded whenever I look at him.
He flashes me a quick, happy grin as he navigates the Ferrari over the switchbacks along the Italian coast, and I’m thankful I’m sitting.
“I can almost hear you thinking,” he says, downshifting with authority. Good Lord, the way his thighs strain against his pants…
I cross my legs. “All dirty thoughts, I promise you.”
His grin grows but he keeps his eyes on the road. “Behave yourself, chatty girl. I need to concentrate.”
