AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Until he finally cracked.
He pushed himself into her, almost climbing up her higher, burying himself into her deeply. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough. He roared, literally roared. Loudly, like the last surviving, marauding viking howling his battlecry, making his final stand before being brought to his knees. He came deeply, his fluid jetting into her, his breath shooting out and skimming her cheek. His warm body convulsed on top of her back.
And then he collapsed forward, just to the side of her, onto his front. And she did the same.
They lay in the bed and breathed. Just breathed. Gasping, panting, catching their breath at first. Then slower, deeper, calmer. He turned his head to look at her, and he had a relaxed smile on his face.
* * *
Afterwards,it seemed to Sophie that he still wanted more. He was still hungry for her. He was still scared she’d melt by the morning. She rested her hands on his head, trying to reassure him, holding his face, his shoulders. His hands kneading her bum cheeks, her hips, he played with her boobs until it hurt. He went down on her again, and Sophie thought he was enjoying licking his cum out of her. He gave her multiple love bites on her buttocks. Nipping, nibbling, licking, tasting. It seemed he could not get enough.
She thought she’d come away from this like Swiss cheese, full of holes, for he will have consumed her. She felt him eating into her body, but it was her heart she knew he was imbibing. She felt it already, he was taking giant bites out of her. She let him feast on her. She let him take. He needed it. She was only too happy to provide.
* * *
She wokeup with a start in the morning. Her eyes snapped open. The light trickled through the curtain. She went to roll over and then groaned. Her body hurt. Ached. Her legs, the insides of her thighs. Her forearms, jeez, her core. It was like she’d done extreme, high intensity workouts. Aware that there was dried stickiness between her thighs, she winced a little, her groin muscles, her soft tissue. She felt bruises on her hips. She smiled, it was all worth it. She welcomed every ache and pain, every blemish. Because it was from him. She opened her eyes and looked to the other side of the bed.
Empty.
He’d gone.
She tutted to herself, the disappointment shafting through her like one of his knives. She knew he’d be gone in the morning. She hadn’t even dared to hope he’d stay. Whatever it was, whether it was just that night, they’d had something beautiful. She knew it. She felt it. Something special had happened. He’d been an expert lover, it was almost worrying how he’d known exactly how and where to touch her. It made her think he must have had hundreds of women before her. But what had happened last night was also a first for him. She knew it. He hadn’t come like that, he hadn’t spoken like that, ever. She could tell. She’d heard it in his husky voice. It was a voice that hadn’t been used in years. It had been raspy, like a creaky old cellar door, leading somewhere dark and cold. Somewhere spooky that you knew you shouldn’t go, but you were drawn in, despite the fear, despite the danger, despite any warning signs. She was drawn into him.
She rolled back the other way, groaning again at the soreness in every muscle in her body. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked it with a squint.
A message. From Phantom. Flame emoji. Her eyes snapped fully open.
She might add a few more flames to the end of his name, she thought whimsically as she opened the message.
“Delicious first date, Sophie,” he had written. And followed up with a smiling face tongue sticking out emoji.
She smiled.
And there was a photo. Him. Looking straight at the camera. So confident. A real model-like pout. He was kissing… she blushed. It had taken her a few seconds to recognize the curve of flesh. Her butt cheek.
She took that in. He’d sent her a picture of him kissing her butt cheek. What time was that? The message was sent at 4:30 a.m. Did he leave then? Was this him kissing her goodbye? God, the cheek of him. The balls on him. And she blushed again, picturing his balls. The confidence he had with his body, his unapologetic agenda to get what he wanted. She tried to picture it now. Her asleep, laid out bare. Him, prowling around, looking at her body, having the boldness to take a photo of himself kissing her flesh. Her bottom, of all places. And then texting it to her.
Phantom was like a bat. Blind, in the traditional sense. But able to navigate with ease. Able to locate prey, and maneuver with grace to catch that prey. He couldn’t speak, didn’t speak, but still made himself heard, still communicated what he needed to, still let his wants and needs be known.
She swung her legs out of bed, gingerly, and started getting ready for the day, thinking of him. There was something in his past that made him quiet, shy, full of self doubt. In some areas, that she would think of as quite normal social situations, talking to people, going into a shop, or a restaurant, he seemed very out of his comfort zone. He didn’t want to engage, he didn’t know how to engage properly. In the bedroom, with physical contact, he seemed okay. More than okay. Highly skilled. As long as it was in the dark. And she didn’t touch his chest, whatever blemish he had waiting for her to find there, under his T-shirt. Colt had mentioned scars. If he was in the dark, he could articulate what he wanted, with his words, yes, but with his body. With his mouth and his hands and his cock. He was aroused and sought out physical satisfaction. And he knew how to get it for himself and for her. He was a skilled lover. She had expected him to be, based purely on the shallow reason that he was an attractive young man, women would fancy him, he must have found himself with willing companions over the years. But then she’d been confused by his stoicism. Maybe he hadn’t taken women out on dates, maybe he struggled to talk to women, getting to a situation when he’d even be able to get close enough to start letting his body talk to them. She’d seen him, it had taken him days to pluck up the courage to come into her shop. He’d floundered badly when trying to help the other woman whose boy had dropped his ice cream. So despite his good looks, she’d begun to wonder what kind of lover he would be, so silent, so unreachable. But no, in the darkness, he could feel his way, he trusted that sense of his, he knew his self worth, he knew hers.
She got herself into the shower, got dressed, reveling in the soreness and puffiness between her legs. She got to the shop and knew she’d have some extra tidying up to do, after the ice cream and M&M’s fiasco. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she swept the floor again. But wait, on the worktop that she had laid bare on, there was a pile of M&M’s. She frowned, having been sure she’d tidied them up last night. As she looked though, she saw what it was. She smiled and laughed out loud. He had popped back in here then, before going off to wherever he had to go. They were arranged in the unmistakable shape of a cock, with droplets of cum shooting from the head. All surrounded by a rainbow colored heart shape.
“Hey Sophie, sugar,” Colt greeted her. Sophie balked at his immediate over-familiarity, but he ordered two Americanos with a devil-may-care smile and she actually enjoyed the genuine warmth with which he spoke to her, after being a stranger in town for so long.
Rafe, the ridiculously handsome sex club manager, trailed in moments later, flashing her a smile that would rival the most melt-in-the-mouth chocolate ice cream she could ever create. It seemed Sophie’s cafe had become the go-to place for the MC for coffee when they were in town. That was fine with her.
Rafe cleared his throat. “I was just wondering how you and Phantom do it without him talking, like how does he let you know what he wants?” Rafe laughed.
Sophie replied with a coy smile, “He asks me.”
Rafe stared for a moment, wide eyed, then laughed. Like she’d told a witty joke. Colt joined in with a rusty chuckle.
She let them laugh, let them think she was joking, handing over their steaming hot, strong coffees. They sipped gratefully.
She bit her lip. She wanted to ask. She had to ask.
“Phantom… his knife skills… he kills people, doesn’t he?”
