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Her hands trembled as she raised them to his belt. She undid the buckle, tugging the length of leather free of its loops and tossing it aside. It was a matter then of only sliding down his zipper and pushing his slacks down off his hips. They slid to his ankles and he kicked them away, leaving him in only his boxers. His erection was practically bursting through the thin fabric.
She bit her lip, slipping her fingers into the waistband and drawing out the hard length of his cock. He was thick and long, the smooth head engorged. Sophie opened her mouth wide and wrapped her lips around the spongy tip, licking at a bead of pre-cum. It was salty and slick. Henry hissed as she took him into her mouth, sliding her lips down his shaft. Tasting him like this, pleasuring him like this, intensified Sophie’s own desire. The glide of his silken skin against her tongue, the salt and male musk flavor of him, the springy hair at the base that tickled against her nose when she fully engulfed him—every sensation only heightened her own arousal.
Sophie stroked him, tongue curling around his shaft. Henry groaned, sliding himself between her lips, shuddering. Again he murmured words she couldn’t understand. She didn’t care. It’s not important, he’d said. It wasn’t.
“Sophie,” he moaned. “Dolce ragazza. Stop.” She pulled off of him, looking up into his smoldering eyes. He stroked her face. “I need to be inside you now.”
The words took away all her breath. Henry grasped her shoulders, pulling her up and pushing her back onto the lush, soft bedcover. She lay back, gazing at him, breath uneven. His cock stood up against his muscled belly, glistening with her saliva.
“Spread your legs.”
She did, watching him as he crawled over her. His hard body glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Sophie stroked his shoulders and back, urging him upward until he knelt between her splayed thighs. His cock prodded gently against the slick lips of her sex. Sophie whimpered and slid her thigh against his hip, gasping at the feel of her skin gliding against his. They both moaned as he slid his shaft up and down her slit. “That’s it. Just like that.”
He teased her, pumping his hips in tiny increments, rubbing the head of his cock over her clit. Each time the smooth, spongy tip kissed the throbbing bud it set off sparks in her belly. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, trying to coax him into her wet cleft. He bit her lower lip and plunged into her, burying his cock in her clinging flesh. Her thighs tightened around his hips as he began to move within her. He pulled out slowly and the slippery glide of his cock as he withdrew it tingled along her nerve endings. Then he pushed back in and Sophie lifted her hips to meet him.
They moved together, and apart, and together again. Each time his shaft parted her he seemed to press deeper, touch someplace new. She undulated against him, welcoming him back inside her with each thrust. Her heart pounded in her chest in time with the throb of her clit. Henry ground his pelvis against her with every downstroke, rubbing against the turgid nub and sending waves of pleasure throughout Sophie’s body.
His pace picked up. He thrust harder now, stomach slapping against hers with a resounding clap. His cock pounded into her, sliding against the wet silk of her inner walls. The delicious friction built a fire in her belly.
Henry slowed again, drawing out languidly, his ragged breath tickling against the aching tips of her breasts. One hard hand slapped her hip. “On your hands and knees, dolce.”
She rolled over and scrambled to her knees, bracing herself on her arms. Henry’s hands were warm on her buttocks as he kneaded the pale globes. He spread her open, notching the head of his cock back against her slick folds, and pushed into her once again.
Sophie moaned, long and low. His hard, calloused hands stroked her back, gripping her shoulders and pulling her back against him, impaling her on the rigid length of his cock as he thrust forward. Sophie found herself begging, saying words she never thought she’d utter.
He obliged, picking up the pace and pushing her head down deliciously until her cheek was rubbing against the sheets. She felt her hair being tugged. Oh god to finally be handled like this, roughly, the way her body wanted to be handled.
“You’re going to come soon,” Henry moaned. His hand eased down from her hair to her neck to her shoulder as he fucked her harder still. ?
??Now.”
Every muscle seemed to go tight within her. The coil of delicious tension unraveled viciously from her pussy to her toes. Her body clenched around his cock and she screamed in pleasure as her orgasm washed over her like a sudden storm.
“God you come good,” Henry rasped.
She did. She came and came, and came some more. Each cell that had drawn in, expanded into a new wave of pleasure. Her slick inner walls clamped down hard on the rigid length of his shaft, squeezing him like a fist within her. Henry cursed, bucking against her, driving himself deep. Sophie felt the hot pulse as he spilled his seed. The sensation set off another cascade of pleasure. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips as pressed her tight against his groin while his cock throbbed inside her.
Sophie shivered. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d just had a nearly cataclysmic orgasm. When Henry glided his shaft in and out of her like that, it made her feel as if she could start all over again.
Finally, after what seemed long minutes of twitching delight, the last drop of the pleasure was completely wrung out of her. Henry too, leaned heavily against her back, panting.
He collapsed behind her, curling his body around her. She twined her fingers through his hair, turning her head to gaze into those inky black eyes. They were heavy lidded now, drowsy. She kissed him lightly, brushing his lower lip with her tongue. There were things she needed to think about. The edges of her brain fizzed with them as she let her eyes close.
Chapter Seven
Grey morning light woke her. Sophie blinked and stretched. She groaned at the sweet languor still lingering in her muscles. Her body hadn’t felt this satisfied in years. Maybe ever. She had always enjoyed sex but last night, with Henry, she’d wallowed in it. The tastes, the smells, every sensation. Even remembering it caused a pleasurable fizz in her blood.
She was alone in the vast bed, but she could hear movement nearby. Sitting up, she glanced around the room. She’d noticed little besides the giant bed and it’s velvety coverlet last night. Now she could appreciate the room’s clean lines, its dark, polished wood and the simple sumptuousness of it. It said a lot about the man who slept here. He liked his luxury—there were touches of it everywhere, from the cut crystal of the light fixtures to the electronic pad that clearly controlled the window shutters—but it was muted, not ostentatious. It fit with what she knew of Henry.
Which was, admittedly, not much. However, the smell of coffee was wafting into the bedroom and her belly rumbled at the prospect of breakfast. She crawled to the end of the bed and swung her legs down.
Hadn’t she been wearing shoes? She distinctly remembered Henry’s gruff ‘leave them on’. But her feet were bare now. She wiggled her toes. Shoes were not a priority at the moment. Clothes might be good though. The door that led from the bedroom to the sitting room beyond was closed.
All of her clothes were out there. She couldn’t just waltz out completely naked. What if he had guests? She scanned the bedroom. He had to have something she could cover up with. Her eyes lit on the rumpled pile of his clothes. Perfect. She pulled his boxers up over her hips. They were much too big for her slender frame, but if she tucked and rolled them... By the time she got them to stay up on her, they resembled short shorts more than boxers.
She found a button-down shirt and pulled it over her head, relishing the feel of the shirt’s fabric on her breasts. The sleeves were still half rolled up. She repeated the tucking and rolling process on them too. There, that was as suitable for company as she was going to get without her clothes. She ran a hand through her mussed hair and opened the door.
The sitting room had been reorganized, the rug unrolled and the loveseats back in place. There was no sign of her clothes. Blood surged into Sophie’s cheeks at the idea of a maid finding her pants and shirt and bra strewn all over the stylish room. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, so she squared her shoulders and turned toward the terrace, following her nose toward the heavenly scent of coffee.
