She came out naked.
Water clung to her skin in lazy drops, sliding down her collarbone, tracing the curve of her hip, catching in the dark thatch between her thighs. She sauntered over, body beautiful, hips swaying, each step making her thighs brush together. Her nipples hard. They were the color of melted dark chocolate and puckered from the cool air..
I looked because there was no point pretending I didn’t want to.
She stopped and posed, traced the outline of her body with her hands, sliding her palms against the sides of her breasts, holding me hostage with her eyes before she dropped to her knees about ten feet in front of me.
Ten feet.
Then she crawled the rest of the way until she was between my legs.
My heart pounded in my chest, but my breath was caught in my throat. I couldn't remember how to breathe, as if it wasn't natural. As if my body had forgotten the mechanics of survival and only remembered how to want.
She looked up at me, her eyes dark and full of sin.
"Déjame ayudarte con eso."
She nodded toward my erection. The Spanish rolled off her tongue like silk, smooth and warm, and my stomach tightened so hard I nearly groaned out loud.
Her hands moved to my belt, fingers working the buckle free like she'd done it a hundred times before. The leather slid through the metal. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet room.
She unzipped my pants. Slow. Deliberate. Her knuckles brushed against my dick inside my boxers, feather-light, and I felt myself twitch beneath the fabric.
It was hard and aching. Already leaking for her.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
My voice came out rough. Strangled. My hands gripped the arms of the chair to keep from touching her. The wood creaked beneath my palms.
"I can make you happy, papi." Her eyes never left mine. "For a while. Then you let me go."
Her tone was velvet-coated, the sound dragging rough over my nerves. I felt her fingers free me—the cool air against hot skin made me hiss through my teeth.
Then her mouth ghosted over the head of my dick.
Soft.
Warm.
Just the whisper of her breath.
Then she pressed a kiss to the tip. Soft enough to make me groan low in my chest. My hips bucked before I could stop them.
My life flashed before my eyes.
Not the violence. Not the blood. Just Sophia's face, watching me from somewhere I couldn't reach.
I grabbed her wrists. Stopped her before she could go any further.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"I'm whomever you want me to be."
I stood so fast the chair scraped backward across the floor. Grabbed a blanket from the couch and threw it at her. It hit her chest and draped over her shoulders.
"Get up off the floor." My voice sounded cold. Even to me. "And if you put your mouth or hands on me again, I'll—"
"You'll what?" She wrapped the blanket around herself slowly, deliberately, like she had all the time in the world. "Take me up on it?"
