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“Henry, yes! Please!” Sophie was turned on beyond belief by his passionate assault. The need to feel him inside her was all-consuming. She felt him hike her skirt up and brush the sleek head of his cock between her slippery lips. Henry groaned, rubbing the wide crown up and down her slick slit quickly before notching himself into place at her snug entrance and plunging into her.
“Sophie!” he cried. “Dolce amore, Dio, che me si bruciano!”
The words tumbled from his tongue, meaningless to her. She didn’t care. What she cared about was the press of the rock hard length of his flesh within her. She rocked her hips, sliding her pussy along his rigid shaft. Henry moaned, hitching her legs up around his waist. She locked her ankles together behind his back.
He fell upon her, mouth crushing hers, tongue demanding against hers. The rough fabric of his jeans chafed her thighs as he pistoned his hips. Sophie panted, undulating her body to meet his every thrust.
She heard the muffled thunk of glass hitting wood and realized one of them had knocked over her wine glass. It would be spilling across the dusty floor. They should do something about it. But the desire to stop Henry’s fevered pounding of her throbbing pussy was non-existent. The
wine could wait. Sophie could not.
“Henry! More! Harder!” Her cries echoed back to her off the bare walls, ricocheting around the wide open space.
His hand left her breast, sliding up to cup her cheek. With each powerful thrust, the base of his cock slapped her highly sensitized clit. Wave after wave of heated pleasure rolled through her body.
Sophie’s fingers were claws in Henry’s t-shirt as she clung to him. He murmured unintelligible words against her skin as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttock. She could only pant his name, over and over. She licked at the salt of his skin, biting the firm mound of flesh at the base of his thumb.
He grunted, burying the entire length of his cock inside her clutching passage. She felt the twitch and spasm of his flesh within her, the hot rush of his seed flowing inside her. It put her over the edge. Sophie’s orgasm swamped her like a molten wave, sweeping all other thought from her as her body seemed to melt with pleasure, everything else incinerated beneath the heat of that moment.
They both stilled, remaining joined for several minutes. She stroked her hands down his back, over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It was an odd sensation, being nearly naked beneath him while he was still fully dressed.
“Well,” she breathed softly, mouth curving into a smile as she scanned the room. The sunlight over Henry’s shoulder was slightly lower in the sky, a little more golden. It warmed up the stark space, painting the walls a burnished yellow. They’d spilled the containers of cheese and fruit, scattering the blanket with reds, blacks, blues, and creamy whites and yellows. “This place seems decidedly more lively now.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I should bring you along to all of the new buildings.”
“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, remembering the sound of the falling wine glass. She glanced frantically to her side. “The wine!”
The glass had tipped just near her elbow. Most of the dark red spirit had soaked into the blanket, turning it a deep purple. But some seeped out onto the floor.
“Don’t worry about it. The wood is varnished.” Henry laid his head back down against her breasts and wrapped his arms around her waist.
She slid her fingers into the heavy silk of his hair, running her nails lightly over his scalp. “Will it? That would stain the floor in my studio.”
“Aren’t those varnished?” He nestled himself into the cradle of her thighs. Glancing down, she saw his eyes were closed. A slight smile still played around the corners of his mouth.
“Uh-uh. It’s polished hardwood. I thought the varnish reduced some of the natural springiness.”
“I guess I hadn’t really noticed.”
She kept sifting through his hair, enjoying the feel of his weight pressing into her. “Well, you’ve only been inside twice. And last time...” She trailed off. Last time, she’d barely been speaking to him. It seemed so long ago, and yet it was a matter of days. So much had changed since then.
“I am sorry, Sophie. For the papers and everything else.”
“I know.” She smoothed the lines with her thumbs. “I’m glad Carl convinced me to give you another chance.”
He lifted himself to brush a soft, sweet kiss across her mouth. “He’s a good friend. Remind me to send him a fruit basket.”
“A fruit basket!” She pushed playfully at his shoulder. “Is that all?”
“You think I should shower him with jewels instead?”
The mention of jewels made her think of the pearls he’d given her to wear last night. She’d still been wearing them when she woke up this morning. They’d been heavy and warm against her throat. There was something decadent about laying naked in a vast bed wearing nothing but pearls. She’d taken them off before she’d went down to breakfast, laying them carefully on Henry’s bedside table.
Why had he let her wear them? What did they remind him of?
“Henry,” she began, tentatively. She knew she could possibly be ruining the moment, but she had to know. “Is your mother a dancer?”
He turned his head to kiss her fingers, but his dark brows drew down. “No. What makes you ask?”
