"You should come!" Monty interjected.
"Yeah, please don't leave on our account." Shelby wrapped one arm around her kid and the other around her brother. "We were just going to check out the river walk, let the big guy buy us dinner. You should join us."
"Are you sure? You really don't have to—"
"Blondie," Soren interrupted. He tucked my hair over my shoulder without a care for who was watching. "Join us."
"Please," Monty added around a fake cough, making us all laugh.
"Please."
I twisted my lips, feigning contemplation. As if it were a difficult choice to make. "Oh, alright," I said, finally giving in. "But I do have a question for you both."
Shelby smiled, amused. Monty waited with bated breath.
"How do you feel about bike riding?"
Later that night—after Soren kicked Matty out of their room yet again and he stripped me down to my favorite lacy, peach boy shorts (which he promptly tore off my body)—I got my answer.
"That was so fucking sexy today," he said around a mouthful of my tits.
Soren was obsessed with my tits.
We were testing his theory of making me come solely by sucking on my nipples. At first, I’d had my doubts, but after fifteen minutes of his nipple-sucking experiment, I was, dare I say, starting tocomearound.
"What was?"
"You. Hanging out with my family." He switched to my other breast. "Giving Monty makeup tips." His teeth tightened around my nipple, jolting me farther up the bed. "God, I wanted to bend you over that bicycle and take you right in front of everybody."
I licked my well-kissed lips. After the game had ended early, we did indeed take our bike tour of Scottsdale . . . with Monty, Shelby, and most of the Roasters' roster. If I hadn't been having so much fun getting to know Soren's family, I might have realized what an incredible publicity moment the entire thing made. But that wasn't what it had been about.
The bike tour had turned into dinner, and dinner had turned into ice cream by the river walk. Through it all, Soren had eyed me like some mythological creature, a mystery waiting to be solved. Or fucked, I guessed.
While he laved the spot he just nipped, I tightened my grip on his shirt. Why he was still fully dressed was beyond me.
"You should have asked. I might have let you."
He growled. The vibration against my already overly sensitized nipples, coupled with his calloused palms cupping me roughly, was the final push I needed to send me over the edge.
I didn't know what kind of magic spell Soren had cast on me—maybe that was a question for my Bitchcraft group chat—but I hoped it would never end. The man made me come without even touching my pussy. If that wasn't witchcraft, I didn't know what was.
He gentled his touch, bathing my breasts and neck with light kisses while I came down from the high. Not that I everreallycame down from the high that was Soren Sinclair.
As soon as I caught my breath, I tugged his face down toward mine. Our night together was nowhere near through. His lips met mine with fervor. Regardless of where our relationship went, I would forever be grateful for the passion Soren had shown me these past few weeks. Before him, sex had felt like a chore, an obligation to show my partner how much I cared about them. I hadn't understood the appeal. Walden hadn't exactly prioritized my pleasure on the few occasions we'd had sex.
But Soren . . . Soren's pleasure came from making his partner feel good. And while I couldn't speak for any of his previous partners, he made me feel goodevery single timewe were together. Whether we had sex or not.
I rolled him to his back, reversing our positions. His eyes twinkled with amusement. He wasn't used to me taking the lead in our bedroom exploits, though he never shied away from encouraging me to do so. We both knew that he had more experience than I did, but it wasn't just that. Generally, I preferred being a pillow princess. It went against every people-pleasing bone in my body, but I kind of liked letting him please me, worship me.
And occasionally throw me around like a rag doll. That was fun, too.
He gripped my hips, groaning when I sat back on his lap, rolling my hips against his cock.
"Fuck, Clarke." His hands slid forward still, smacking the fleshy globes of my ass once, twice, a third time. "You're soaking my lap, baby."
We'd been here before. Just yesterday, we'd crossed the sixth item off my list while half-heartedly watchingGolden Girlsin my room. What had started as a coffee and donut date had turned into a dry-humping session against the hotel room door.
But tonight, I wanted more. There was an ache inside of me, an emptiness. One that could only be quenched by Soren filling me to the brim.
