I nudged her shoulder. “Sophie, wake up. We’re home.”
Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. “Home?”
“My house,” I clarified.
“Oh, right.”
Paying the driver, we exited the taxi and stood side-by-side on the wet pavement.
“It rained,” she observed groggily, wrapping her arm through mine. Looking up at me with a shy smile, she added, “Thanks for today, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I had a good time,” she continued, her eyes searching my face.
“I’m glad,” I answered, refusing to meet her stare. “Be careful, the tiles can be slippery, especially in those shoes.”
Clinging tighter, she whispered, “You won’t let me fall.”
“Nope, you’re safe.”
“I am, aren’t I?” she asked as I fitted my key in the lock. “Safe?”
I dragged my eyes to hers. I couldn’t be sure, but suddenly it felt like we weren’t talking about slippery walkways anymore, that there was hidden meaning in her words … and mine.
“Always,” I intoned, pulling her through the door and into me.
With her palms resting flat against my chest, I was sure she could feel my heart hammering against my sternum.
Despite the pep talk I’d just given myself, I couldn’t deny how I felt about this woman. She was in my veins. I knew she didn’t trust me not to break her heart—not yet—but I was just as vulnerable. And even though I was probably setting myself up for further rejection, I needed her to know she had a home here. That there was a place for her in my life if she’d only let herself reach out and take it.
“You’re safe with me Sophie,” I repeated, my lips dropping to hers. “All you have to do is let me in. I’m yours for the taking.” I kissed her again. “Please, just take me.”
Her hands slid between us and she linked our fingers together. Stepping away, she pulled me further into the house.
“Only if you take me too,” she whispered huskily, her meaning clear.
I backed her against the wall and forced my hands into her hair. My body flush against hers, I kissed Sophie hungrily, putting all my need for her into the stroke of my tongue, the scraping of my teeth, the warmth of my lips.
It wasn’t enough though; it would never be enough. I wanted my hands on her naked body, to feel us skin to skin. Like an addict, I wanted all of her, every drop, every fucking inch, each of her breaths.
But this … feeling … the overwhelming need to possess her, for her to own me, wasn’t just about the physical. I wanted her heart. I wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. I needed her to never let me go.
“What are you doing to me?” I groaned against her mouth.
“Exactly what you want me to,” she answered, nipping at my lips.
Bending down, I scooped Sophie into my arms and carried her up the short flight of stairs to my bedroom where we tore at each other’s clothes until we were naked.
I tossed her onto the bed and crawled after her until I was over her, my big body casing her in. I splayed my hands across her hips and slid them up her sides to fondle her breasts. She arched her back and leaned into my touch, letting out a breathy moan. I bent forward and sucked one of her glorious tits into my mouth, worshipping her with my lips and tongue. As I plucked and pinched its twin, she begged for more.
When our kiss deepened, she turned the tables on me. Sophie had taken charge; she was claiming me as hers.
After a minute or an hour—I was so caught up in what was happening I couldn’t have said—Sophie straddled my lap, her hips rocking against me. I could have taken her hard and fast like I’d done before, but I wanted—needed—to prolong this moment. Burn her taste in my brain and the feel of her skin on my fingers. In a flash I knew I had to toss all my bullshit aside and let her know how much she meant to me. What this meant to me. How this right here, right now, was the moment that would define my life.
My hands on her hips, pushing her onto my cock, I urged her higher and higher as her beautiful fucking pussy rolled over me.
“Sophie …” I whispered, her name a prayer. “Let me love you. I need you.”
“I need you too,” she groaned in response as she fell forward and begged me to fuck her.
Something tore loose inside of me. Rolling us over, I drove into her in one swift thrust. The softness of her beneath me, welcoming and warm, was like finding heaven.
Slowing my thrusts to a shallow pitch, I held myself back from ravaging her sweet, delectable pussy. Once I regained control, I kept the roll of my hips excruciatingly slow, sliding in and out of her slick, wet heat. Gliding up, I filled every inch of her until there was nowhere else for me to go. I made love to her with my mind, my heart, and with my eyes.
“Harder,” she growled, lifting her hips against my pelvis. “Let go Declan,” she demanded.
Between her panting and my grunting and a beautiful cacophony of sounds somewhere in between, Sophie grabbed a handful of my hair at the roots and yanked my head back, sending a spike of intense pleasure to the base of my spine.
“Fuck me,” she commanded. “Fuck me exactly how you want to. I won’t break. I need you to take me, claim me. I need you too.”
When she sank her teeth into my shoulder, I lost it. I slammed into her, but she didn’t shy away from me. Sophie met me thrust for thrust, pushing herself into me as I brought my body down against her.
“Fuck yes, just like that,” she sputtered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Sophie was sweet, kind, intelligent, soft … but she was more too. She was like me. She was filthy, dirty, frantic, and our fucking was sweaty, hard, and forceful … and I loved it.
“Right there … right there … right there,” she chanted with each successive thrust.
And then I felt it, her pussy gripping me tight, clenching around me, the most spectacular feeling in the world. With each breath I took, each driving thrust of my cock, I knew I never wanted this with anyone but her. The revelation was staggering and it stole my breath for a moment, but I was too far gone to focus on anything but the feel of her surrounding me, claiming me, owning me.
I’d been worried I wasn’t good enough for Sophie, that she’d turn away from me if she knew the depraved ways I needed to fuck, but being with her was a revelation. Sophie liked it the way I wanted to give it to her. Her moaning and bucking and sobbing told me she more than liked it. She reveled in it.
“Declan!” She screamed my name before her nails sank into my skin, the stinging pain triggering my own orgasm.
I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it back in a rough, savage grip and captured her mouth in a violent kiss, our lips and teeth and tongue gnashing and biting and grasping. The roiling pleasure mounted and ripped through me, the force of it an electric shock straight to my cock, a supernova that threatened to tear me apart and slam me into blackness. My vision blurred and I emptied myself into her with one final push of my hips, my whole body convulsing as I collapsed on top of her, completely spent and sated in a way I’d never been before.
We lay like that, our bodies connected, for several long moments catching our breaths. I sucked in a lungful of air and eased off of her. As my cock slipped out of her liquid warmth, it twitched and she pulsed around me.
Still half hard and needing more, I nudged back inside. Sophie sucked in a quick breath and rocked her hips as her body shuddered beneath me again, a small orgasm washing over her.
Wrapping her legs around my waist, she whispered “holy fuck” and laughed.
“Yeah.”
“I know I just came twice,” she whispered, “but I want more. I can feel you, thick and long, inside of me. Can you go again?”
Second by second, thrust after thrust, my cock grew even thicker. “Does that answer your question?”
I slipped in, then out again, our bodies slotting together perfectly. Propped on my elbows I hovered over her, watching the play of emotions cross her face—fascinat
ion, wonder, desire—as I teased her with a series of quick, shallow pumps that barely entered her.
“Declan,” she breathed, my name a plea, as her hands sought to pull me closer.
Now that I’d had the most spectacular orgasm of my life, I could go like this all night.
“You want this cock?” I asked with a wicked grin as I rubbed the crown over her clit.
“Stop teasing me,”
“Tell me you want it.”
“You know I do!”
“Tell me how much you want me.”
She grunted and panted in response.
“How much?” I asked again, teasing her at her slick opening.
“Tell me, sweet thing,” I whispered in her ear as I took the lobe between my teeth and gently bit down. She gasped and cooed with pleasure as I sucked it into my mouth. “You want what only I can give you?”
“Yes,” she groaned in frustration as she tried to pull me into her again, but her size and strength was nothing against my own.
Rocking against her soft, warm flesh, I stilled until she gave me what I’d asked for.
“You’re going to fuck me Declan—” she panted between gasps “—and you’re going to do it like you’re the last man and I’m the last woman on Earth. And when you’re done, I’m going to let you rest and then we’re going to do it all over again … all night long.”
All night. All day. All year. All my life. I’d worship her forever if she’d let me.
“Sophie,” I bit out as I drove into her, the length of me filling her completely.
I rolled us over so Sophie could ride me. Her nails digging into my chest, she rocked against me and moaned, a sexy guttural sound that was my undoing. My hands on her hips, guiding her, I stared into her eyes as our bodies joined. When we came together in a final shattering release, I realized I hadn’t once felt the need to look away. In fact, it had been the exact opposite. I realized I could quite happily drown in Sophie’s green gaze.
Reality hit me like a ton of bricks: I couldn’t let her leave.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Declan
“So … when did you know you were into all that kinky stuff?”
“Kinky stuff?” I asked, taking a gulp of my sparkling water.
Practice started two hours earlier than normal tomorrow morning, so while Sophie knocked back her favorite Irish craft beer, I drank water like a motherfucking granny.
“Well, maybe not kinky, but not exactly vanilla either.” She smirked and her eyes danced with delight.
Yeah, things between us so far had definitely not been vanilla and I hadn’t even done most of the really filthy things I wanted to. Just thinking about it, my dick twitched to attention. Adjusting myself as inconspicuously as possible, I tried to ignore those thoughts since I was trying to be on my best behavior.
I’d taken Sophie to dinner at a really nice restaurant where our team could go without being harassed and now we were sitting in front of the fire at my place, just hanging out while Christmas music played softly in the background.
After settling in, Sophie had asked whether I’d rather eat crickets or snails which had turned into another hilarious round of Would You Rather? which had then morphed into Twenty Questions. Her question about my kink was her third of twenty.
I was happy to sit here playing innocent little games, but what I really wanted to do was carry her to my bedroom and fuck her senseless. But like I said, I was trying to be a gentleman. I would have loved all my remaining time with Sophie to be spent under the covers—or in the shower, in my car, on the kitchen countertop (I had some very specific ideas about her and some chocolate sauce)—but I also understood relationships weren’t built on sex alone. Or so I’d been told. By her grandfather.
Hence all this talking.
“I’m not sure,” I answered.
The truth was, there were some things about my … proclivities, shall we say … I wasn’t comfortable sharing, so I avoided answering at all.
“Hmm,” she murmured, not at all convinced. Peeling the label on her bottle, she continued, “So what you’re saying is the rough stuff isn’t something you’ve always been into?”
How to answer that without freaking her out? This wasn’t like asking someone their favorite food (her: sushi, me: cheeseburgers) or what they thought of the weather (trick question: it was always crap in Ireland).
Maybe I needed a beer after all since this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have sober.
Calling over my shoulder as I made my way to the fridge, I explained, “Ever since I lost my virginity, I liked sex to be … energetic, I guess you could call it. Maybe because I was so young and lads don’t know how to be anything but energetic, but after awhile, I realized I was a little bit intense when it came to sex.”
I remembered listening to my friends talk about their conquests and thinking it sounded … unsatisfying.
When I joined her back on the sofa, I continued, “But to answer your question, no, I didn’t start out liking it rough.” I caught her eyes and held them. “That came later.”
I expected her to ask me when—and how—I’d learned this about myself so I was surprised when she didn’t. I
“I get that. I mean, when you first start out having sex you’re still learning what works for you and what doesn’t. And of course your partner matters too. Something you want to try might not appeal to them and vice versa.”
Was she trying to tell me she wasn’t into it the way I was, that she hadn’t liked what we’d done? I had a hard time buying that since Sophie had been right there with me, giving as good as she got. She was the one who’d demanded I fuck her harder, go deeper. Still, it seemed like there was a subtext here I wasn’t catching.
“Is this one of those times when you say something without using saying what you actually mean and I’m supposed to magically know what you’re talking about?”
“Fuck you!” she answered on a gusty laugh, punching me in the arm.
“Seriously though, I feel like you’re trying to tell me something and I’m too dense to figure it out.”
Sophie scratched at the glue left by the label on her bottle and wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Not necessarily. I’m just saying that when you’re with someone you trust, it’s easier to explore your fantasies and if you find something works for both of you … well, that makes it even better.”
When she finally raised her eyes to meet mine, her pupils were dilated, hazy with lust.
Understanding dawned. Sophie had specific desires she wanted to explore and was trying to tell me.
I took the bottle from her hand and set it aside. “Have you always known you like it rough, Sophie?”
Her eyes flashed with something … desire maybe? … but then she looked away.
“The other night, you liked what I did to you.” I wasn’t asking her for confirmation; I knew it was the truth.
I fought the urge to touch her, letting the sexual tension mount. I’d talk all night if it meant I’d learn what made Sophie tick, what little kinks she was into. And once I knew them, I’d make it my motherfucking mission to make all those fantasies come true.
“The other night,” she breathed, a smile stretching her lips. “That was pretty damn epic.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. It was the best I’d ever had.
Twisting in my seat to face her, I eyed Sophie for a couple of seconds, deciding to just go for it. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” she answered. “Anything.”
“This isn’t just a come on or anything, I really mean it,” I assured her.
“Okaaaaay,” she responded, and I realized that little caveat had made her nervous.
I put my hand on her thigh, leaned forward. “It was fucking amazing.” I slid my hand higher. “It’s never been that good for me, Soph.”
“No?” she asked breathlessly, scooting closer. Tossing her leg over my thighs and straddling me, she whispered against my lips, “
Think we can do even better?”
Could we do better? I would die trying.
Sophie rocked over my cock and I moaned into her mouth. Reaching between us, I cupped her through her jeans and rubbed the heel of my palm over her. She whimpered and pushed against me harder.
“You like that?” I asked, nipping at her lip.
“Yes,” she answered, nipping back. “Touch me Declan.”
No need to ask me twice. I wanted to spend my life touching every single inch of this girl.
I popped the button of her trousers and slid my hand down to the promised land. Slipping my fingers between her petal soft lips, she was already wet, desperate for my cock.
“You’re dripping for me.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, sucking my neck into her hot mouth and biting down while she rode my fingers.
Shit, that felt terrific. “Do that again. Harder.”
With her teeth clamped around my skin, she cupped me through my jeans, sending jolts of desire from my cock to my spine.
When Sophie shifted as if to stand, I wrapped my unoccupied hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her in for an urgent, needy, open-mouthed kiss.
“Come back here,” I commanded as my thumb danced over her clit.
When I slid my finger into her, she whimpered. I added another and flicked them toward her g-spot and she mewled like a cat, my sweet, sweet Sophie getting her pussy finger-fucked. Plucking my fingers from her, I sucked them into my mouth and licked her juices clean.
So much for being a gentleman.
“I want to taste all of you,” I growled, easing us down onto the carpet in front of the fire.
I tugged her sweater over her head and pulled her jeans down, baring her naked body to me. Roughly spreading her thighs, I dove in and lapped at her bare, pink lips, flicked my tongue over her swollen clit, took it between my lips and sucked. She bucked and cried out, tangled her hands in my hair, and held my face to her soaking pussy. I thrust my fingers back inside, going straight for her g-spot as I worked her clit with my lips, teeth, and tongue. My mouth was drenched in her juices as she broke apart, my face drowning in her orgasm as she lost control.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 25
