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It fucking kills me not to take her hard and rough and force her to scream my name the way she should have been for years right now, but I want this to be perfect.
“Hands behind you.” I give her the command while I kick off my pants. She reaches her hands back, setting them beside her ankles, and I tsk. “Play with your cunt.”
Her blush turns vibrant and travels up her chest and cheeks as she moves her hands slowly, teasing herself and letting goosebumps kiss along her bare skin.
Her hands still haven’t reached her pussy by the time I step up to the end of the bed and give her one hard slap on her ass. She gasps and jumps immediately. Her fingers fly to that greedy pussy of hers too, rubbing her swollen nub and running along her slit. It glistens when her back arches and she settles back down from the single slap.
I admire the red mark, tracing it with my fingers and listening to her moan of pleasure from the simple touch that hovers over her heated skin.
“Have you forgotten I like things done quickly?” I ask her, toying with her and leaning down to suck her cunt, even over her fingers, still rapidly moving in circles around her clit.
“No,” she says softly. “Just making you wait even longer for what you want,” she tells me with a smirk playfully pulling at her lips.
Stroking my cock, I climb on the bed behind her and then lean down, licking her slit and pushing my fingers back inside of her roughly. The tortured gasp and the way her back bows are everything I wanted.
“I’m done waiting.” Even though my words hold impatience, I want her to get off again. Every time she cums is a fucking victory for me. The next one drags out longer, it hits her harder, and it comes so much more easily. “I’m not going to stop fucking you tonight until you’re able to cum just from a single lick along your clit.”
Her eyes close at my words, and as if I’ve commanded it, she cums on my fingers. That’s three in the last hour. I want more.
“Arch your back; I want your ass up higher.” She listens and obeys, even though she’s still shaking. In bed it’s always easy between Soph and me. She knows I’ll make it good for her. And I know she’ll love me for it.
It’s when we aren’t physically together that she doesn’t trust I’ll be good for her. I can change that. I can be better this time. I will be. She’ll see it. She’ll stay this time. I know she will.
With a hand splayed on Sophie’s hip, my fingers dig into her flesh as I slam myself inside of her heat.
Fuck, she feels so tight. I struggle to hold back my murmur of pleasure from feeling her heat wrap around my cock.
Pushing myself deeper inside of her, I let out a rough groan from my chest. My lips graze the crook of her neck and then the shell of her ear.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I whisper and it’s her undoing.
She’s already cumming again. Spasming around my cock as her body shivers beneath me.
Even consumed by pleasure, a smirk forms on my lips. I leave an open-mouth kiss along her jaw and then her cheek, waiting for her orgasm to rock through her body. She’s breathing heavily, her lips parted and body still trembling when I pull out just slightly and then push in even deeper, fully seated inside of her.
“I was going to fuck you slowly, to tease you and torture you for making me wait this long to have you again,” I whisper my words and slowly her eyes open. Her baby blues find mine, and I hold them in my gaze.
“I’ve missed you too much not to have you like I selfishly want.”
Sophie lifts her head just slightly, not speaking and only giving me a single kiss before falling back to the bed, barely able to brace herself with her forearms.
And then I ravage her. Keeping my promise. The last time I touch her, she cums one last time with a single flick of my tongue to her clit and nothing more.
CHAPTER6
Sophie
Seven years ago
There’s this ominous feeling I get every time I leave or he leaves. A feeling like this is how it’ll be forever, like this is what I’m supposed to have. A world without him.
I can’t explain the anxiousness and the insecurity. I can explain why I feel so unworthy though. Anyone could look between the two of us and write an essay on that matter.
I think that’s why he doesn’t call me his girlfriend – I’m not. I’m not his girlfriend.
“Hey.” Madox’s voice surprises me, as does his grip on my chin forcing me to look up at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, but I can barely breathe as I answer him. Swallowing thickly, I try to come up with a reason to give him that can hide the truth, but I’m struggling. I’m struggling with everything.
