"Sophia, don't start something you can't finish."
Her warm breath teases what's coming as she grips the base of my dick, licks her lips, and starts to kiss around the head. Her tongue moves from the base up the shaft until she's tickling just underneath my tip. Already, my balls start to tighten, and I know this isn't going to take long.
She licks all around my cock, getting it wet before she takes me inside her mouth. Her tongue feels like velvet as it rubs me back and forth.
"Take off your shirt," I pant.
She pulls back, a puzzled look on her face.
"I'm going to fuck those tits and then cum all over them."
I love the flush across her cheeks like I've shocked her, but I know it turns her on, too. She likes it when I take control. I lean back in my chair, my dark gaze on her as my hands grip the armrests. She takes her shirt off, and her lace bra barely covers those perfect breasts. I lean forward to tweak one ofher nipples before I reach behind her and pop the clasp, causing the flimsy fabric to fall down her arms and onto the floor.
She brings her bare chest closer, and I rub my cock across her nipples, circling them until her little nubs are as hard as glass.
"Take me in your mouth as deep as you can. Get me nice and wet."
I watch as I disappear into her mouth, loving how she looks on her knees, with her cheeks hollow with suction, flushed and pink and perfect. Her lips feel like silk as they glide up and down me, and her eyes are glazed with desire like she wants and needs to please me.
I tangle my hands in her hair, trying not to control the pace, but she feels so good sucking me down, and I want to feel her throat close around me.
I bring my eyes down to watch, and when she lifts her eyes to mine, I know I'm not going to last much longer. I pop out of her mouth, place my hands on the sides of her breasts, and nestle in the channel between them.
"Move closer to me; let me fuck those tits," I slide up and down, and she spits on the head of my cock, and I groan at the gesture, knowing I'm about to blow. Her hands move over mine as she presses her breasts closer together, squeezing me tight until the friction is almost too much to bear. She interlaces her fingers so I don't slip from in between her, and in a few more thrusts, my release spills out across her chest.
"Fuck, Sophia. God, you feel so good." I lean back in my chair to catch my breath and admire the mess I've made. "I was not expecting that."
She rises from the floor, but before she can head into the bathroom, I grab her and pull her close to my chest, spreading my mess across my shirt.
"Grant! What—you're ruining your shirt!"
"I don't give a fuck about my shirt, Sophia. I have another one in the closet. I just wanted to kiss you."
And that's the truth.
I drag my thumb across the curve of her cheek, reveling in the way she leans into my touch as if it's instinct. As if she trusts it.
And maybe that's what undoes me the most.
Because she isn't just something temporary. She isn't just a distraction.
Everything about her feels worth the mess.
thirty-three
. . .
Sophia
A quiet humof contentment settles into my bones. I feel…steady. Rooted. Like maybe, just maybe, I belong exactly where I am.
I glance around the guest house as the morning light filters through the sheer curtains, and it's funny how much this place is starting to feel like home. My coffee sits half-finished on the side table, and the faintest trace of Grant's cologne lingers in the air from when he kissed me goodbye earlier.
He doesn't spend the night—not all night, anyway. But every evening, after Hazel is in bed and the house is quiet, he slips in through the sliding doors. We talk, we touch, and we fall into each other in ways that feel both inevitable and impossible to untangle. When it gets late, he presses one last kiss to my lips and heads back to the main house before there's any trace he's been gone.
I haven't asked him to stay, and he doesn't offer.
I tell myself it doesn't matter, that this is enough, that it'sonly been a few days since we admitted we wanted to see where this could go. But some small part of me wonders what it might feel like to spend an entire night together. If that will happen. If he's ready for that. If I'm ready for that.
