I pat the bed beside me. “Sophia. Get in bed.”
She climbs back onto the mattress, moving carefully like she’s afraid I’ll snap at her again.
“What do you want to eat?” I pull out my phone. “I’m cooking for you tonight.”
Her eyes widen. “No, please—”
“You don’t trust my cooking?” I raise an eyebrow, teasing.
That gets a small laugh out of her, the sound soft and genuine. “No, not that. I just want… you here.”
Fuck, not sure how to respond to that. I clear my throat and focus on my phone. “You need to eat,regina. I’ll order takeout then. What do you want?”
“I’ll eat whatever you want.”
“Sophia…” I give her a warning look.
She laughs again, lighter this time. “Thai food.”
“Good girl.” I pull up the delivery app, scrolling through options. “Pad Thai? Drunken Noodle? Tom Kai?”
She rattles off a few things, her voice gaining strength, and I order enough for a dozen people because I need to make sure she eats and I want her to have options.
While I finalize the order, she shifts, laying her head in my lap. Her cheek presses against my thigh, and my hand automatically goes to her hair.
Then she nuzzles into my dick. I stiffen in more ways than one. “Sophie—”
She does it again, deliberate, seeking. Her lips brush the fabric of my sweatpants and my cock responds instantly, hardening against her face.
“You don’t need to do that.” I try to shift her away, but she doesn’t budge.
“May I?”
May I.Why do those two fucking words absolutely destroy me? Maybe it’s how she asks, how she makes it sound like it’s so important to her.
And fuck, I love it. Her mouth on me not because I demanded it, but because she wants to warm my cock in that sweet wet mouth of hers.
“Yeah, princess,” I murmur, still stroking her hair. “You can.”
She frees my cock from my sweatpants with gentle hands, and when she takes me into her mouth, she doesn’t suck. She just holds me there, soft and warm, her eyes closing in contentment.
I continue to trace her cheekbone, her temple, her ear with my thumb. I don’t fully understand what’s happening right now. All I know is that Sophie Bellamorte is curled in my lap with my cock in her mouth, not because I told her to, but because I think it makes her feelsafe?
And I’m letting it happen. More than that. I fucking want it to happen.
The food arrives 30 minutes later. I have to gently ease her off me, tucking myself back into my pants while she blinks up at me with soft, sleepy eyes.
“Stay here,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll bring it to you.”
She nods, settling back against the pillows, and I head to the door.
When I return with bags of Thai food, she’s sitting up, looking more like herself. Still tired and fragile, but present.
I set the food around us on the bed, unpacking containers. “Eat.”
She picks up her chopsticks, takes a small bite of Pad Thai, and smiles at me. “Thank you, Vincenzo.”
“Don’t thank me.” I grab my own food, uncomfortable with the gratitude in her eyes. “Just eat.”
