He smoothed his hand down over her knee, then back up to her hip before drifting it inexorably toward the juncture between her legs. He stroked her once, twice, and she cried out, mostly from the delicious friction from his hand. His fingers played with her, rubbed her, moved along her seam before he smoothed one long finger inside of her. Sophie sucked in her breath and clutched his broad shoulders. He moved his finger slowly inside of her. Her breathing quickened.
“Sophie,” he whispered against her ear. “How much do you know about this?”
“Ab…absolutely nothing,” she gasped as he continued to stroke her.
He nibbled at her ear and then let his tongue delve inside. She whimpered, her hips undulating against the steady rhythm of his hand.
“You’re so hot and wet,” he whispered. “That means you’re ready for me.”
Sophie let her head fall back. “I’ve been ready for you for three years.”
She felt his smile against her cheek. He kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulder, all while still stroking her gently with his finger inside. “What I’m doing…with my finger,” he finally managed, “I will do with me.”
“You?” she asked somewhat mindlessly, not entirely certain what he was saying.
“Yes,” he answered, pulling one of her hands from his shoulder and placing it between his legs so she could feel his erection beneath his breeches.
“Ooh,” she said, shuddering. “You.”
“Yes.” He replied, pulling his finger away from her most intimate spot. “It may be…uncomfortable for you at first.”
“How…uncomfortable?” Sophie asked, her hips still moving, wanting his finger back.
“I hope not much,” he replied.
“Is it uncomfortable for you, too?” she asked, frowning.
He chuckled and kissed her on the forehead. “No. Unfair, I know.”
Sophie frowned. “Does it remain uncomfortable?”
“God, I hope not,” Phillip replied, chuckling again. “I hope it feels better than when I was touching you just now.”
“Better?” Sophie asked, her brows lifting.
Phillip nodded. “Mmm. Hmm.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Phillip chuckled a third time. “Not a bad point.” He rolled off the cot and stood, while Sophie moved to the opposite side of the small bed and lit the lantern. She rolled back to face him again and lifted on her elbow to watch in the soft glow of light while he removed his shirt with both hands behind his head. His chest was magnificent, smooth and muscled, his shoulders wide. She frowned when she saw the scar on one shoulder. That’s where the shot had hit him. She didn’t have long to contemplate it, however, because he soon unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them off.
She gasped when she saw his member, proud and strong, jutting out from the hair between his legs. It was bigger than she’d imagined. She wanted to touch him.
“Now you,” he breathed, reaching down to help her stand.
Phillip pulled her up beside him, and Sophie took a deep, shuddering breath. She reached down and pulled up her shift from her knees, over her hips, torso, and head and tossed it onto the floor near the cot. They stood staring at each other’s naked bodies for several moments, neither saying a word.
“You’re perfect, Sophie,” Phillip finally breathed, reaching out and touching her shoulders, her arms.
“You are too,” Sophie replied. She tentatively touched Phillip’s broad shoulders. She stopped at the jagged scar on his upper chest. “Does it hurt?” she asked, wincing.
“Not anymore,” he replied. His hand had moved to her breasts, and he leaned down and kissed each one before moving his hand down to smooth over her flat abdomen. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”
She shook her head. “Not as beautiful as you are,” she replied, letting her palm skim down his muscled chest in much the same manner.
He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her closer while she let her fingers move around his back to press against his firm buttocks. Then she boldly wrapped the other hand around his cock and squeezed.
Phillip sucked in his breath.
