I want, for a moment, not to have it all together. To not be the one in charge. I didn’t think I would ever desire to lose control to anyone, let alone a man—not after Matt.
But Will makes me feel safe. Safer than I’ve felt in years.
Will closes his eyes and groans. When he opens them again, they’re bright with hunger. “I’ll take what’s mine.” Without hesitation, his strong hands grip my inner thighs to pry them apart, and I’m helpless to resist him, and I’ve never wanted anything more than for him to?—
A deep shudder passes through me when he sweeps his tongue over my centre, and for a moment, I see stars. I can’t move my hands or arms, but I can move my hips, and move them I do, tipping them toward his mouth. A low hum escapes his mouth, vibrating through me, eliciting a soft moan from my throat.
Will’s mouth against me is ravenous, and although it’s not the first time he’s doing this to me, he’s never been this primal. When his hands come into play, I resist the urge to cry out, instead honing in on the fireworks exploding within me.
“Will,” I breathe out, about to tip over. My arms pull against the restraints of their own volition, and the resistance I encounter, the complete loss of control, right as Will looks up at me with voracious eyes, is enough to push me over the edge.
I’m spiralling, completely losing myself, and Will is right there, pressing against me, holding onto me for dear life, guiding me through this tsunami that’s obliterating every single wall I had left. My body goes limp with relief, and for a moment, my vision blacks out.
Before the cloud dissipates, I feel the heat of Will’s body inching closer to mine before I see it. Every inch of my skin cries out to touch him. But before we come into contact, he leans back again, just long enough to grab a condom from the nightstand.
“God, Sophie, looking at you like this never gets old.” His voice comes out uneven, and his eyes travel up and down my body with reverence just before he leans forward and meets my lips.
“Then take me,” I breathe into his mouth. I gasp when he finally thrusts into me and buries his face into my neck.
I lean my head back, trying to move my hands to weave my fingers into Will’s hair, but of course I can’t. “Oh, fuck,” I moan, unable to form a coherent thought as Will recklessly slams into me, again and again.
“Sophie,” he gasps against my collarbone, his hands gripping my hips for leverage in his wild rhythm. He repeats my name with every thrust, his voice unravelling a little more each time, until it evolves into groans that spark an uncontrollable inferno within me.
Together, we detonate, our bodies and spirits melding into one, and I lose sight of where my body ends and where his begins. When he slows, we both remain motionless, our breathing hard, my muscles completely slack against the weight of him on me.
Will
When I gain control of my body again, I kiss Sophie’s forehead, bathing in the overwhelming warmth and light of being in her vicinity.
Sophielovesme.
I’m in awe of her bravery, of her vulnerability. Of how she just gave herself to me completely, more than she ever has before. But mostly, my senses are overtaken by a floating elation.
As softly as I can, I untie the restraints and kiss her wrists.
“I love you so fucking much, Sophie.”
I lie next to her, and she snuggles up close, her breathing still heavy. “I love you, too. Thank you for giving this to me.”
At that moment, I realize that I don’t just love Sophie. I love the sum of it all. I love us together. I love Gwen, who’s so loving and curious and lights up every room she walks into. I love Heather, so observant in her bashfulness, and so sweet it almost hurts. And I love Julian, who’s still so small, yet who I’d kill for if anyone dared to hurt him.
A sharp pain pierces my breastbone. This is what I sacrificed Océane for. Or at least, what I tried to sacrifice her for. Facing what was happening to her would have torn me apart because I couldn’t stand the idea of our perfect little family unit crumbling to pieces.
But my family was never ‘perfect.’ It was toxic, rotting all of us slowly from the inside, Océane crumbling away the fastest. I constantly ran, numbed myself, trying to escape reality, and for what?
All to protect the illusion of something that didn’t even exist.
But this woman here—this warm, flesh and blood angel snuggled in my arms, looking up at me with ocean-blue eyes threatening to drown me—she’s real.
This little bubble we’ve created over the last weeks is real. It exists. I can touch it, sense it, taste it, breathe it into my lungs and feed on it. And against all odds, it’s mine. Sophie loves me, and has willingly opened her heart and her family to let me in.
Willingly shown the most vulnerable parts of herself to me.
I’ve never had that. Not like this. All that time, as I tried to find love elsewhere, and as I shared my body with other women, nothing felt as transcendent as the complete vulnerability Sophie has given me.
I stroke her golden hair and close my eyes. Yes, this is real.
But Rachel is real, too.
