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When my knees gently bump against hers, I try to ground her nerves by placing my hands on her shoulders and massaging the tight muscles that lie beneath my fingertips.
She stares up at me with those big, all-encompassing jade eyes of hers, and it suddenly feels as if someone stole all the fucking oxygen out of the room.
God, she’s beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.
She’s this dangerous combination of sultry and sweet. Sassy and meek. She makes me want to fuck her senseless but also protect her. Keep her safe. Make sure no one hurts her.
“You okay, babe?” I ask quietly toward her, and she sucks her lips into her mouth before nodding. “Don’t worry,” I say. “There’s no rush. There’s no time limit. There’s no need for us to do anything but just enjoy each other at our own pace.”
“Okay.” She nods again, and her shoulders begin to relax beneath my big hands.
For a long moment, I’m not sure how long, Sophie stays rooted to her spot on the bed, her fingers fidgeting into the mattress as I continue to gently massage my hands up and down her shoulders and neck and bare arms.
The more I rub at her soft skin, the more her body starts to inch closer to me, and when I move my hands to the base of her skull and slide my fingers through the silky tresses of her hair, her head falls back and the softest moan escapes from her lips.
Her breathing begins to change then, from tight and rigid to soft and easy, while each inhale of her lungs pushes her breasts up and makes her cleavage more apparent beneath her slinky dress.
She’s into this.
She’s a fucking vision of wanton desire. A goddess I’m not sure she even understands that she is.
And when I glance over my shoulder to the glass wall behind me, I see that I’m not the only one who has eyes on this mesmerizing woman. I’m not the only who is turned on by simply watching the way her lips are parted or her lashes fan over her cheeks or how her hips shift a little on the bed.
At least ten other people, mostly men from what I can make out beneath the shadowy lighting, stand right there, on the other side of the transparent wall, watching me touch her.
But mostly, watching Sophie enjoy being touched.
My chest grows tight, each inhale and exhale getting harder and harder to move air through my lungs, but I push against the discomfort with a hard swallow and force myself to focus back on her.
When Sophie looks up at me again, her lips lax from my touch, her eyes glow with the kind of heat that I know means if I slid my hand up her thigh and beneath her panties, she’d be wet with arousal.
But I hesitate so long to act on the urge to feel that certainty for myself, that eventually, I’m not the one who makes the next move. Sophie is.
She stands to her feet and slides her hands into my hair. And I can’t stop looking at her.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, and I do.
I press my mouth against hers and move our lips in a passionate dance. She moans again and deepens the kiss, her tongue sneaking into my mouth and mingling with mine. She tastes like her fruity mints, and a part of me loves that no one on the other side of that wall will ever know that about her.
They will never know how Sophie tastes. Or how Sophie feels.
And they will never know all the amazing things about her that I know.
Like, the fact that she’ll choose dessert over dinner if given the option. Or when she’s mad about something, a little crinkle forms between her eyes. Or when something makes her laugh really hard, her contagious giggles will go completely silent, but her face will stay scrunched up in hilarity.
Or that if they challenged her to a game of Texas Hold’em, she could hustle them out of money without even batting an eye.
Or that she earned fifteen badges in Las Vegas. And fourteen of them were earned by an orgasm I gave her.
Sophie’s hands moving to my belt and tugging it loose pull my attention back to the present, and when she goes to her knees before me, I stare down at her in absolute shock at the brazen move.
My cock grows hard, but my mind and heart wage one hell of a battle against me.
What are you doing, man? This isn’t right.
Her lips quirk up into the kind of sexy but mischievously cute smile that threatens to send my mind back to memories of the elevator in Vegas. And when her hands move to my zipper, sliding it down slowly, I have the most intense urge to pick her up and carry her out of the room.
