Текст книги "Rogue"

Автор книги: Callie Hart

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“We’re not playing hide and seek, Soph. Neither side wants to drag this out. The longer we’re at each other’s throats, the longer Ramirez can’t relax or conduct business without watching his back. The longer he can’t smuggle his drugs into the country. The longer he can’t focus on selling his women.”

“And for you? What’s this war going to distract you from, Rebel?” she looks dubious.

I smirk, thinking about shrugging my shoulders but then dismissing the idea as entirely not worth the accompanying pain. “The Widow Makers run guns. As an illegal trade, that’s how all the syndicates think we make our money. It’s how the ATF think but can’t prove we make our money. In reality, the Widowers trade in information more than anything else. Information is far more valuable than gold or silver, drugs or guns. It can build or collapse an empire overnight. The only thing more reliable for bringing a dangerous man to his knees is pussy. And, as you’re already aware, we don’t sell that.”

“No,” she says, giving me a wry glance. “You only buy it.”

“If I don’t, someone else will. Difference being is that I find secure, honest, healthy work for the women we pay for. They leave this compound untouched. If Julio had bought you for himself, guaranteed you’d have already been accosted more times than you could count, and by more men than you could count, too. Would you have preferred that?”

Sophia remains silent. She glares at me like she hates me, but maybe, just maybe, like she’s also considering that I may have done her a favor. Doesn’t look like she’ll be admitting that any time soon, though. I pull in a deep breath, testing out how deeply I can fill my lungs without experiencing any sharp, crippling pain.

“Ramirez is here because he’s making his first move. He’s being reckless. Perhaps I need to be, too.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, right?” Soph eyes my blood-covered torso with what looks like regret. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea you were hurt. You know that, right? I would never have—”

“Stop. I deserved it. We’re all good.”

“Still. Launching myself at you like that—

“Is part of the reason why I like you, Sophia. That fiery temper of yours is insanely hot. You looked like some wild Amazon, ready to skin me alive. I was halfway to a boner before you nearly killed me.”

Sophia ducks her head, eyes skating over the floorboards, not looking at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was embarrassed. “Maybe you should use me as bait,” she says abruptly. “At least that way, if my presence is somehow a catalyst for drawing Ramirez and Raphael out, then this can all be over. We could all go back to living our lives.”

Laughter itches at the back of my throat. Scathing, ironic laughter. I swallow it back down. See, the thing Sophia doesn’t quite realize yet is that this is my life. When this is all over, if I’m not dead, there will always be someone else to contend with someone else to put down. Someone else who will want to take what is ours.

I can’t tell her that, though. She’ll run for the hills, and despite my previous pathetic attempt at doing the right thing, I know now that it’s just not possible. I have plans for the girl sitting crossed legged on the floor by my bed. Big, awesome, scary plans. I’m going to keep my mouth shut about those, too, though. Right now, there’s only one thing I need to tell her.

“I’m not endangering you with those men again, Sophia. No way. Not happening. There are a lot of things I’ll risk to end this. I’ll risk my own life, and the lives of my club members, if they’re stupid enough to volunteer them. I’ll risk my freedom and every last cent I own. I’ll risk the sun and the moon, and the wind on my face. But not you, Soph. I’ll never risk you.”

FOUR

SOPHIA

I don't know what to make of this crazy, infuriating, ridiculously hot man. He drives me absolutely insane. One minute he's inside me in a corridor at his father's house, the next I'm being shoved back into his cabin and I'm shut away for 10 days. The man doesn't even speak to me. I don't see his face. I receive no word from him whatsoever. And now, it seems as though he's back in my life again, albeit bloody, bleeding and broken, and I don't know what to make of it.

The sun is pouring through the cabin windows, casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the dust motes swirling through the air overhead as I sleep on the bed beside Rebel. I didn't want to climb into bed with him, but the only other option was the couch and I've been uncomfortable and miserable for long enough now. Why the hell should I have to crash out on the couch? Besides, he's hardly in a position to do anything untoward at this point. The guy was practically dead last night.

It can only be about six in the morning. Already though, I can hear motorcycles arriving and leaving the compound, the brisk snarl of engines startling the birds from the trees surrounding the cabin. I'm surprised it doesn't wake Rebel up. Mind you, he appears to be sleeping the sleep of the dead. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to accomplish the same feat.

I had unwelcome dreams last night. I know it's messed up, but I haven't thought about Matt since the moment I decided to give myself over to Rebel back in Alabama. I spent the last year dating a guy and I haven't thought about him once. How crazy must I be? Matt was never as thrilling or exciting as Rebel, but he was nice-looking guy, made me laugh. He was safe. I feel like I'm doing him a disservice by completely forgetting about him like this. I mean, who does that?

"You look like you’re plotting out the world’s end." I nearly jump out of my skin when I realize that Rebel is awake, and he's actually looking at me, frown lines marking his forehead. Sleep still hangs over him, his gaze slightly fuzzy

“Not exactly,” I say. “Just wondering where we go from here?” That seems like the most practical thing to be thinking. It’s no longer the sense of limbo that I find frustrating. It’s the feeling of complete and utter uselessness. Ever since I saw his uncle Ryan being murdered, I’ve felt vulnerable and unsafe. I haven’t had purpose or place in the world I’ve found myself in. I’ve been drifting, cut free from all tasks and activities that might give me some sort of mental stimulus. I’ve just been afraid and powerless, and that, perhaps, has been the worst part. With nothing to occupy my mind with other than my present situation, I’ve been driving myself crazy. At least if I know what Rebel’s plan of action is, I can maybe help. Maybe I can be a part of the process. I’m kind of stunned by the intensity of his refusal to let me be a part of any plan his club members might come up with. The look on his face last night when he was speaking was so determined; it made my heart swell in my chest in the strangest, scariest way. In that moment he looked like he meant every word, with a depth of passion I couldn’t quite fathom. But if he means it, if he really won’t allow me to be put in danger again, then maybe there’s another way.

Rebel just shakes his head at me. “Don’t get any ideas, Sophia. I know this shit is fucked up. I know I should have just let you go when Julio handed you over, but I was too angry to see straight then. I’ve been even angrier since we left my father’s place.” He laughs shakily, pressing a hand into his side. “Funny how losing an obscene amount of blood can make a guy cool his heels and start thinking properly again. I’m not normally the guy who runs into a situation guns blazing. I’m the guy who figures out how to disarm everyone without them even realizing.” A shadow passes over his face, the light in his eyes dimming. “That tactic’s not going to work out this time. This time there will be blood and people will die, and I don’t want you anywhere near it. This can’t last longer than a couple more days, okay? Once it’s all over, I’ll personally make sure you’re delivered back to Seattle safe and sound without a hair on your head harmed. If that’s what you want…”

“If that’s what I want?” I almost can’t breathe around the words. They just seem so ludicrous. “Why wouldn’t it be what I wanted?”

Rebel just lies there, still covered in blood like something out of a horror show, looking at me. His inhales slowly, then lifts his hand and holds it out to me. “I’m done with the bullshit. If you want me, it won’t be pretty. I know I sure as fuck don’t deserve you, but I think you’re a smart girl. You can feel what’s right around the corner for us, right? You can sense how consuming and desperate and explosive it will be if we both just take one step forward. I’m not saying it’s not ridiculously dangerous to be with me. To be the partner of someone who lives the kind of life I lead. But you…if there’s anyone in this world with enough backbone and stubbornness to survive it, it’s you. And you’d more than survive here, Sophia. You’d flourish.”

There’s a huge, painful lump in my throat by the time he’s finished. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Every encounter I’ve had with a guy before has been awkward and shy in the beginning. So much beating around the bush. Reading in between the lines. ‘Dating,’ where no one has a clue where they stand. With the man lying in front of me in this bed, there is no hidden meaning. He’s afraid of nothing. He knows what he wants and he speaks plainly. It’s terrifying.

“I—”

“You need to think about it. And that’s okay. But know this. If you want to be with me, everything will change for you. No more college. No more middle class existence. I’ll make you feel like you were sleeping before, like you have no idea how you lived such a placid, quiet existence without me.” His voice deepens, sending thrills through me. “I’ll fuck you raw, Soph. I’ll make you forget what it was like to be with any other man. I’ll ride you so hard, you won’t remember your own name. I’ll be the only thing tethering you to this earth. My sheets will be soaked with your come every single damn night for the rest of your sublime existence. This I promise you.”

I feel like I’m seconds away from passing out. Holy. Fucking. Shit. No one… no one has ever spoken to me like that before in my entire life. And the crazy thing is that I know it’s true. I know he means every single word, and more importantly he can deliver. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to say in return to that. Rebel’s still holding his hand out to me, waiting for me to do something.

He did the same thing in the hallway at his father’s place, asking me to accept him, but I was saved from making any sort of decision by the blood-curdling scream that came from Louis James Aubertin II’s kitchen at the time.

There’s no one screaming now, though. I take a deep breath, trying to think of something appropriate to say while at the same time assessing what I even want anymore. I draw a total blank. “You realize that’s impossible, right?” I whisper. “That a girl can’t soak sheets with her come.”

Rebel lowers his hand. His eyes shine, some sort of mischevious mirth hidden there, just behind the sharpness of his gaze. “You think the female ejaculation is a myth?”

“Isn’t it?”

He starts laughing, deep in the back of his throat. It’s a wicked, dangerous sound. “Oh, boy. Sounds to me like you’ve never come properly before, Soph. And that’s a crying shame.” The laughter dies on his lips, transforming his expression into one of deadly seriousness. “If you let me, I’ll be more than happy to rectify the situation.”

He fixes me with those ice-blue eyes of his, so disturbingly beautiful, and I feel like I’m about to squirm out of my own damn skin. I could barely look into them when we first met, and that hasn’t really changed. And now, with him talking about female ejaculation, I’m finding it hard to think straight. “You shouldn’t be making bold threats like that, you jerk,” I inform him. “You could not deliver on that.”

He grins. “How little you know me.”

Rebel sleeps some more. I find myself watching him, panic coursing through my veins. Three weeks. I can’t believe I’ve only been gone for three weeks. I feel my throat tightening shut when I realize I’ve missed my mom’s birthday. It just slipped me by without notice. Usually Sloane and I will take her out for a girls’ day, usually coffee and breakfast in the morning, followed by a spa session, mani-pedis and massages all round. It’s been our staple celebrating for the past five years.

The ridiculous thing is that neither my sister or my mother are the kinds of people to enjoy spa days. Sloane was always too focused on her studies and then on her internship, and my mom still thinks every last cent that comes into the house should be squirreled away, banked, invested or donated to the church.

Mom’s birthdays are usually awkward affairs.

And this year, instead of getting my toenails trimmed like a prize Pomeranian, I was fucking Rebel in a hallway. Literally. My mom was probably crying hysterically from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep.

“Hey. Hey, what’s up?” Rebel reaches up slowly and trails blood-stained fingertips across the line of my jaw. His touch sends violent shivers chasing through my body. I don’t even want to mention where the sensation settles, growing and growing with an increasing sense of urgency. I take his hand and place it back on his chest.

“I’m fine. Just still…y’know. Dealing.”

“Yeah. Dealing’s pretty shitty.” He looks down at himself—he’s such a mess—and I want to laugh at how insufficient the statement is. I don’t think my body remembers how to laugh anymore, though. Screaming or total, terror-filled silence seem to be the only two functions my vocal chords are capable of.

“Your guys all saw me last night,” I say, trying to keep my eyes off Rebel’s bare chest. I’m morbidly fascinated by the angry red stitches that trail across his stomach and disappear over his side, toward his back. His blood has dried and cracked, turned so dark it’s almost black; it creates bizarre patterns all over the tightly packed muscle of his chest and stomach. “I say guys,” I continue, “but there were two women there, too. An older, really tall woman, and a younger one with pink hair.”

Rebel nods. “Yeah. Fee. Josephine. She’s the tall one. She was one of the first club members. And the one with the pink hair…” He shakes his head ruefully. “That one is the bane of my fucking life. The rest of the crew are guys, though. Did any of them look like they were going to lynch you?” he asks.

“They looked stunned actually. Seems like you did a really good job of keeping me a secret.”

Rebel purses his lips—god, I want to bite them. I can still remember how amazing they felt all over my body—and then he blinks up at the ceiling, like he’s weighing up what he wants to tell me. Eventually, he says, “They’re good guys. The Widow Makers isn’t like any other club, though, Soph. Everyone has a story here. There isn’t a single person here who joined because they think breaking the law is fun. We have a lot of vets here. Like me. Like Cade. After the corps chews you up and spits you out, you kinda feel like…like you’ve lost your family. Unless they’re ex-military too, your blood and bone relatives will never understand what you’ve been through. The bond you build with the other guys in your unit…they’re never just guys by the end. Even the guys you hate, the ones who drive you insane, the ones you wanna kill half the time—they’re your brothers too.” He laughs. “I mean, most brothers want to strangle each other half the time anyway, right? But if someone fucks with them…” Shaking his head, Rebel sighs. “Someone tries to fuck with them and it’s game on. Brothers will defend each other ‘til the death.

“And these guys who somehow found their way to me, they’re even more gung-ho about that stuff than the army. Ramirez has been screwing with me and my family for years now, screwing with our business. These men aren’t going to take that lying down. They’re going to skin the motherfucker alive, given half the chance. They’ll do it by any means necessary. They won’t let a girl they don’t know get in their way. And some of them haven’t exactly had the most stable female role models in their lives, either. A few of them…a few of them don’t see a reason for there to be women around the club at all, other than for the occasional receptacle to sink their dicks into.

“I didn’t want them getting confused about your purpose here, Soph. So, yeah. You were pretty much the most heavily guarded secret I had. That’s seriously saying something. And, no, I’m not sorry for it.”

FIVE 

REBEL

The next five days are seriously fucking shitty.

Moving is a uphill struggle—even getting up to take a piss is a monumental effort—and when I do feel well enough to sit up in bed, I’m not even allowed to hold a goddamn book. Cade told Sophia not to let me lift anything and, boy, did the girl take him literally. She reads to me. She fucking reads to me, and it’s amazing. I don’t tell her that, though. I sit with my eyes closed, pretending I don’t notice her eyes are on me more often than they are on the pages of Catch 22.

Unlike the first night I was hurt, she doesn’t sleep with me in the bed anymore. She sleeps on the couch, arms and legs contorted in the most amusing positions, hair wild and crazy all over the cushions.

I can’t believe she’s never come properly. That in itself is a travesty. I mean, yes, she came with me in that hallway, but that was rushed, a spur of the moment thing. Definitely not my best work. I can make her come so much harder than that. I can make her feel like her whole body is being ripped apart at the seams if I want to. And I do. I want to open her eyes. I wanna be the guy to show her what sex can feel like if it’s done properly, by a real man and not by some pissy, soft college kid. I’m gonna turn her whole world on it’s head, and it is going to be so goddamn perfect.

In between what’s going down with Ramirez, Dela Vega, and the gigantic fucking hole in my side, I’m sure thinking about a girl is the most insane thing I could be doing right now, but as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, Sophia is the only thing occupying my mind.

She may think she’s being smart by sleeping on the other side of the room, but she’s not as clever as she thinks she is. I’ve seen the way she looks at me. She’s the most transparent person on the face of the planet—every thought she has is usually displayed right there on her face for everyone to see. It’s actually quite dangerous, really. Tonight I witnessed her thinking very bad things about me at least three times before she said she was tired and decided to bundle herself up to sleep, and it took every last scrap of will power I possessed to not physically pin her to the mattress and fuck her stupid. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would have done it, too.

I think about that instead of the exposed wooden beams over my bed. I think about getting her on all fours so I can lick her pussy from behind. That quickly progresses into me sliding my fingers inside her as I lick and suck. Despite the burning pain lighting up my side, my cock begins to harden as I get a little more adventurous. By the time I’ve got her sitting on my face, my dick is rock solid and demanding I do something about the throbbing ache. I can’t believe I’m horny. I can’t believe I’m even still awake, considering the two healthy doses of morphine Cade shot me up with earlier. I’ve always burned off drugs really fast, though. And my cock’s never seemed to know when the hell it should be behaving itself.

I try to ignore the growing desire pulsing around my body. I try to sleep. Across the other side of the room, Sophia turns over, the oversized shirt hitching up to expose bare flesh across her stomach. And her panties.

Fuck.

For a Seattle girl, she’s rocking a killer tan. And a killer body to match it.

Go to sleep, Jamie. I try to talk myself into shutting her out, into letting unconsciousness slip over me, but the more I let go of the grip I’m holding on my thoughts, the more they wander to the half naked woman on the other side of the room.

“Jesus,” I whisper softly under my breath. “This is going to end badly.” I last another minute before I’ve had enough. I need to act, need to do something about this. I have to.

Getting up is really not fun. I have to tense my abs to hold everything in tight, which naturally hurts when you’ve just had minor surgery. I feel like if I cough, my intestines are going to burst right out of me all over the floor.

Once I’m sitting upright, I carefully get to my feet. The room seesaws and I have to reach out to brace against the wall before I fall over. Yeah, this is a really bad idea indeed. I’m probably going to pass out well before I make it to Soph.

Still. Loss of consciousness in the pursuit of epic sex is definitely worth it.

With all the speed of a ninety-five year geriatric, I slowly, gradually make my way across the cabin. My head actually clears a little from the movement, which is good and bad in turns. Means I can feel even more, but I can piece my fractured ideas and thoughts together a little better too. Fair trade.

I stare down at Sophia, wondering what she’s dreaming about. She’s so beautiful. When I was a kid, my mother had a print of Gustav Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’ on her bedroom wall. I used to stand and stare at the fine detailing of that painting, admiring the obvious, captured emotion between the two subjects, and admiring how ethereal the woman looked. That’s how Sophia looks now—ethereal. Not of this world. Magical, somehow. She takes my breath away.

I should feel a little guiltier about what I’m about to do, but I don’t. She’s not going to object. She’s going to enjoy every last second of it, even if it kills me. And if I’m wrong and she doesn’t want it, I’ll stop and she can kick my ass again. Slowly I sink down to my knees and carefully hook my fingers under the waistband of her black cotton panties. The backs of my hands make contact with her sides and her skin is scalding, hot to the touch. She stirs, moaning lightly. I freeze, but then kick myself. The goal isn’t to not get caught here. I want her awake and writhing against me, damn it. I want her panting my name as I make her come.

I bite back a smile as I let go of her panties, changing tack, and slowly sliding my thumb down, in between her legs. She inhales sharply, back arching up a little from the sofa, but she remains asleep. Her body responds to me, even though she’s out cold, which is a beautiful thing. She opens her legs, sliding them apart, sending blood rushing to my head.

She is so amazing. Her body is incredible. My dick presses persistently against my boxers, but I don’t touch myself. This will be so, so much better if I wait for her to lay hands on me. I start slowly, rubbing her clit with my thumb in small circles. This is such delicious torture. I want to pull her underwear to the side and taste her, but it’s too soon. I want her to be awake for that. I want her to want me to. I apply a little more pressure with my thumb, a slow smile spreading across my face as Sophia gradually presses her hips up, grinding herself against me. Mind blowing.

As I lightly press my mouth against the inside of her thigh, I look up the length of her stunning body to see that her eyelids are fluttering open. I guess this is the decisive moment. I ready myself, bracing for the full force of her outrage. Her lips part, the tip of her pink tongue slowly sliding out to wet her lips. She gazes at me blearily. I witness the moment where she fully comprehends what’s happening as her eyes clear of sleep, growing wider.

“What—?”

I hold up my free hand, halting her before she can go any further. “Don’t kick me. If you kick me, you’ll open up my stitches.”

“Will I open up your stitches if I kick you in the head?” she whispers.

I nod. “Probably. And let’s face it. You might mess up my face. You like my face. You don’t want to mess it up.”

“You really are something else,” she says. She doesn’t bat my hand away, though. She doesn’t tell me to stop. I press down a little hard, quickening the motion as I continue to tease her clit, and she holds her breath.

“I can stop if you want me to, Soph. I can drag my ass back to my bed, no problem. I get the feeling you don’t want me to, though.”

“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch. What makes you think—”

“Because I can feel how wet you are through your panties, Sophia. And you’re really, really damn wet.”

“Urgh!” She presses her legs together, trapping my hand between them, scowling at me where I’m kneeling on the floor beside her.

“What now?” I ask, grinning at her. “Is this where you pretend to get all upset and make me remove my hand? Huh?” I have just enough room to continue stroking my fingers over her pussy. She tenses, the muscles in her legs locking up. I can see the need in her eyes, which is almost enough to make me forget rational thought. “Or is this when you open up for me and let me slide my index finger and my middle finger deep inside you while I use my mouth on you at the same time.”

“You are not going down on me,” she hisses.

“Why not?”

“Because. I haven’t showered since this morning.” Her scowl deepens, but I can see her true feelings quite plainly in her eyes again. The idea of my tongue lapping at her clit is turning her on. In case I needed any further evidence, I can feel her panties growing even wetter. They’re soaked now. The need to taste her is almost overwhelming, but I manage to restrain myself. I have to wait for her to unclamp her legs from around my arm before I can do anything anyway.

“Sophia,” I whisper. “There’s no one else here. This is just you and me. Are you afraid of me?”

“I should be.”

“Maybe. But are and should be are two different things. Are you attracted to me?”

She swallows. It looks like it takes great effort. “Yes,” she says breathlessly.

“Good. And do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

Answering this question takes a little longer. She stares me dead in the eye, not blinking or breathing while she makes up her mind. Eventually she says, “No.”

“Good. Do you think I’m going to try and make you do something you don’t want to?”

She slowly shakes her head.

I quicken my movements, rubbing her a little more firmly. Her eyes practically roll back in her head. “Say it,” I command. “Tell me you know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know you won’t force me,” she says, sighing. “Oh god…” She closes her eyes altogether.

“Open your legs for me, sugar.”

“No, I—” I begin to pull my hand away, ready to back the hell off, but she locks her legs together even tighter. “How about…a trade?” she asks.

“I’m not very good at compromising.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“So what do you want to trade?”

“I’ll open my legs…if you let me out of here. I want free roam of the compound. Whenever I want.”

“No. Not happening.” There’s just no fucking way. I tug my hand back, trying to free myself, but she’s got a pretty damn good hold on me.

“You said it yourself, Rebel. I’m safe here. What could be the harm?”

“You’re even more safe in this cabin, sugar.”

She gives me a look that I’m sure caused her daddy to melt like butter whenever she wanted something she knew she wasn’t allowed. She has that look nailed, damn it. Regardless that I’m aware she’s manipulating me, I find myself caving. If she were just in the compound when I knew it was safe, that would surely be okay. A month ago, there’s no way I would even be considering this, but now…now she’s had plenty of time to work her way under my skin, and I’m in some serious trouble. I really cannot believe I’m about to agree to this. “All right. Fine. But only when I’m here. Or Cade.” I don’t know who’s more surprised—me, or her. She blinks at me, owlish, and then smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Show me how grateful you are. Open your legs for me, sugar.”

She doesn’t do it for a second, but then she gradually releases the tension in her legs, freeing my arm. In doing so, she’s given my free rein to proceed at my own pace. Pulling her panties to one side, I carefully dip my fingers into the slick, wet heat of her pussy. Her face blossoms into an expression of horror when I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck on them.

“Shit no! Don’t. Don’t do that!”

I smirk mercilessly. “Why not?”

“I already told you! I haven’t showered since this morning. I’m gross. I’m—I’m dirty.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you are not dirty. You are fucking perfect. You pussy looks, smells and tastes incredible. I’m literally fighting with myself here. I wanna bury my face in there and make you come all over my tongue. It’s driving me insane.”

Sophia’s face loses all color. “You just…can’t, okay? It’s too embarrassing.”

I laugh. “I promise you, sugar, one day very soon you’re gonna be begging me to light you up with my tongue. You’re gonna crave it more than air. In the meantime, fine. I’ll just use my fingers instead.”

She looks like she wants to argue with that too, but I slide my fingers inside her before she can get another word out, and the look of sheer pleasure on her face has me fist pumping on the inside. She’s so responsive. She reacts to my every tiny movement. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the perfect sexual partner for me. I love to know how the girl I’m fucking is feeling; making a woman moan is the most basic but greatest pleasure in my life.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Sophia moans for me even as I’m thinking this. Her breath catches in her throat, telling me that I’ve hit the right spot.

I wonder what she’d do if I did try and make her come properly right now. She’d be freaked out, no doubt. It’s not a normal sensation for a woman. She’ll feel like she’s about to pee everywhere and that will shut her down instantly. No. We’ll have to wait on that one. If I get my way, which I definitely intend on doing, then there will be plenty of other times to adventure into unknown orgasm territory.

Sophia’s muscles spasm as she tries to fight against the sensations rolling over her body. It’s the most amazing thing, watching her wage this kind of war with herself. It’s a war she won’t win, because no matter how angry it makes her, and how badly it makes her feel like she’s losing something somehow, she wants me. She wants my fingers inside her, and she wants my tongue working over her clit.