Now, he's on his back, spread eagle in the middle of the twisted sheets with his swollen cock resting against his body.
"This is beautiful," I say quietly as I kneel next to him. "Not all men have cocks that look like this."
"I'll take your word for it." He opens one eye to peer at me. "I haven't seen a lot of them."
I skim my thumb over the purple-tinged crown smearing the large drop of pre-cum that's been tempting me. "I've seen a few."
"Just a few?"
I've never told anyone my number. I don't think that's what he's asking but I'm not ashamed of the fact that I've had only a handful of lovers in my life. "Yes, a few."
He doesn't press for more. His eyelids flutter closed as he relaxes his back against the dark linen sheet with his arms crossed over his head. "Suck, Sophia."
The words are direct and heated. It's not a command, although it doesn't border on a request either. It's a plea. I can hear that in his voice. He wants this just as much as I do.
I lean forward and run my lips over his cock before I part them and trace the same path with my tongue.
He gifts me with not only a hot-as-fuck growl but a hand in my hair. He twists the strands between his fingers. "In your mouth."
I do it, slowly. I inch my lips over him until I can't take anymore. His hips rise from the bed as he seeks more so I circle him with both hands and pump. I pump and I suck, my head bobbing up and down as I try to find a rhythm that matches the one of his body.
"I need my fingers inside of you when I come. Give me your pussy," he bites out on a ragged breath.
I do. I inch my knees closer to the edge of the bed, never once letting his cock slide out from between my lips.
I whimper when I sense the light brush of his touch against me. He moves and then I feel the sensation of wetness and warmth. He must have licked his fingers to ready them for my tender flesh.
I pump harder and swirl my tongue around the head of his cock as he slides two fingers inside me. I can't stop my body's need so I rock back and forth, fucking his long elegant fingers as he fucks my mouth, each stroke deeper than the last.
He thrusts harder when he nears his release and the second I feel the crest swell under my tongue, I move away from his touch because I don't want anything to steal this from me. I relax, close my eyes and enjoy every last drop.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sophia
I puton the button down shirt he was wearing before he took me to bed. He'd thrown it on the floor on top of his discarded jeans and belt. After he came, I crawled up his body so I could rest my head on his chest. He was spent, laughing softly about how I'd drained him dry and he needed a nap to recharge before he'd make sure I was satisfied.
I don't know a woman who wouldn't be satisfied by his tongue or the taste of him. I've never done that before for a man and now all I want is to do it again.
I quietly pad down the hallway barefoot in search of something to drink. I know that he keeps the glasses in a cupboard over the stove and a pitcher of cold water in the refrigerator. I get both, finishing off the entire glass of cool liquid in one long gulp.
A small green light flashes across the room and it takes me a second to realize that it came from the alarm panel. Nicholas armed it when we arrived, just as he's done every time I've come over.
The building I live in has a doorman but beyond him and the deadbolt lock on my door, I've never feared for my safety. Nicholas has taken extra precautions with this place which I assume is because of all the beautiful artwork that is hung on the walls.
I cross the room to find my purse. I'd left it on the coffee table earlier when we were sitting next to it. I reach in and fish for my phone. I doubt that there's anything that needs my attention now but since my date for the night is passed out cold in the other room, I might as well draft some of the emails I have to send out to Foster executives in the morning.
The light from my phone's screen illuminates the area around me and my eyes instantly gravitate toward the frame. The frame itself may be unremarkable but the picture that it's showcasing isn't. I get up and move to the chair next to that table where the frame is. I turn on my phone's flashlight, shining it directly on the picture of Nicholas and the mystery girl.
I pick it up, hopeful that a closer view will offer more insight into who the dark haired beauty is. It doesn't. I cradle it in my hands, my gaze riveted to the smile on the face of the man who is fast asleep in a bed down the hall. It's the same man who obviously clings to something in his past that this photograph represents.
I fumble with the frame as I'm about to set it back down. I gasp when it falls from my hands. I reach forward, grabbing the corner just before it hits the floor. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief because I don't know how in the hell I would have explained to Nicholas that I dropped the picture and broke the frame all because I couldn't keep my curiosity in check.
I cradle it in my hands, my gaze sweeping over the back of the frame and a small white corner of something peeking out from behind the dark backing board. I tug on it carefully and more of it comes into view. It looks and feels like a piece of paper.
With trembling hands, I curve my fingers around the small tabs that hold the backing board in place. I move each, being careful not to damage them. It's obvious that the frame itself is fragile. It's not expensive. I've seen a row of similar frames for sale in the drugstore for just a few dollars each.
I tuck the fingernail of my index finger under the edge of the backing board to free it. It takes some pressure before it finally moves and a white paper spills out onto my lap.
