Sophie

He knew about me. Dex knew about me, that I was a virgin, and he didn’t care. How did he know? Did he have some kind of virgin radar? I didn’t think I’d ever let on. Did he just know me that well?

I held on to him as he pulled me upstairs. At the top he simply picked me up—God, he was so strong and graceful, carrying me like I was nothing, his body moving in perfect sync. I’d never had sex before, but I wasn’t ignorant. I’d done… things. Kissing. Making out. I’d given a guy a sloppy, inexpert hand job once, at a college party, after too many drinks. I wasn’t that sheltered. I’d seen a real cock, after all, and touched one.

But it wasn’t Dex’s.

This was going to be different.

I tried to rehearse things in my head. What I should do. What I should expect. Nothing would stick. I was too excited, too nervous. Carried off to bed by my sexy, famous stepbrother, my skirt hiked up and my blouse undone, and I was nervous.

We went to his bedroom. It was nice up here, at the top of the house, with the ceiling that sloped a little and a view from the window over the back of the property and the pool to the mountains beyond. The sun had set, and it was dark out now, except for the security lights by the pool and along the fence, the rest of the house in darkness. We were alone.

He set me down on the edge of the bed, surprisingly gentle, and leaned over me, kissing me, soft at first and then deep. I slid my hands up under his shirt, my palms moving over his warm skin, feeling the muscles move beneath it. He broke away just long enough to pull the shirt off over his head and drop it, and then he was pushing me back on the bed, fumbling with my clothes.

I was overcome by a rush of pure lust at the sight of him. He had, in my opinion, the most beautiful body of any man in the world—strong and bulky with muscle, but sleek, every part of him put together like a masterful machine, one that was under his complete control. He pressed me down with one hand and undid the button of my skirt with the other. He slid the skirt off my legs, my feet, and grabbed the back of my knee in one graceful motion, bending and kissing the skin on the inside of my thigh, up and up, toward my pussy. I arched my back and pulled off my blouse, my bra as his mouth moved to the crotch of my panties and he touched me, his breath heating the thin fabric.

I moaned, my nipples hardening in the cool air, but he held me still and kissed my pussy, taking his time. He must have known how wet I was, even through the cloth, but he seemed to like it. When he pulled away he lowered his thumb inside my panties and rubbed, slow and sensuous, over my soaked clit. “Sweet,” he said softly.

Yours, I thought, my brain spinning. Because who had I been fooling all this time? I’d spent every day since I was nineteen trying to find a man who held a candle to Dex Carter, and failing. So I hadn’t picked anyone. It was him or nothing. His cock was the only one I wanted. And I was finally going to have it. All to myself, inside me, fucking me.

I sat up and reached for him. I undid his jeans and rubbed my hand over his cock through his underwear, up and down. Dex gave a sound of surprise but he leaned on one elbow and moved his hips so I had better access, letting me rub him, shamelessly enjoying it, pressing into my hand so I could feel every contour of his cock.

His head dropped and I felt his breath on my neck, his voice in my ear. “Fuck, Sophie, you do that just right.”

“I want this,” I panted, as if he couldn’t tell.

“You want this?” He reached down and stopped my hand, pressing his over mine, pressing my palm against him. “You want my cock inside you? You want to feel it?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” He started to pull away. “I have to find a condom.”

“No.” I pulled him back. “I mean—I’m on the pill.”

He paused, his blue eyes staring straight into mine, pinning me. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “It’s better without, isn’t it? And you told me—you said they test you all the time.”

His eyes glinted with amusement for a second. He had told me that in one of his texts, that the tests were relentless, especially at championship time. I’m pissing in a cup and getting stuck like a pincushion, he’d said. I think if I ever even thought about taking drugs, they’d know about it a week later. Then his expression grew serious again.

“You ever get that tattoo?” he asked.

I shrugged, and he watched my bare shoulders. “See for yourself,” I said.

“Show me.”

He got off the bed. I pulled off my panties and rolled onto my stomach, my arms folded beneath my chin. Behind me, I heard him taking off the last of his clothes. Every inch of my skin was alive with anticipation. The bed moved as he got on again, and I knew he was looking at me, every bare part. I held still.

His hand cupped my ass, squeezing one cheek. “No tattoo,” he said.

“I chickened out,” I admitted, my words a little muffled by the pillow. He moved his hand up my ass, rubbing his palm on it, and I gave a little groan.

“Open your legs,” he said.

I did. The words made me wetter. I liked it when he told me what to do. He knelt between my legs and braced himself over my back, putting his weight on one arm next to my head. With my head turned on the pillow, I looked at the edges of the wolf and the snake tattoo on his inner arm, watched it flex with his bicep, the curls of ink on his skin, the wolf’s fangs and the snake’s tail. I felt his cock against the skin of my ass, leaving a thin wet trail, and I squirmed.

“Not yet,” Dex said, and he slipped his hand between my legs.

I gasped as he rubbed me, his fingers moving between my folds, over my clit. He was braced over me, stroking me, giving me a powerful rush of pleasure as I watched the inked flex of his arm, hypnotized.

I moaned into the pillow. I pressed against him, helpless, pushing my hips into the bed.

“That’s my girl,” he said, stroking me. “So fucking hot.”

I felt hot in that moment, like the hottest woman in the world. I pulsed my hips, moving against him harder.

I felt him kiss the back of my neck, then nip it gently. “That’s my girl,” he said again, harsh, rubbing me. “Fuck however you like to do it, baby. Take your time.”

I moaned. Sensation was building in me, even stronger than it had last night. I forgot about trying to stay dignified. I rubbed slickly against his hand, over and over, my body tightening harder and harder until I came in a rush, my pussy convulsing, my legs squeezing hard, trying to close. He kept them open, and then his hand left me and he lay on the bed beside me, on his back, pulling me over him.

“Come here,” he said. “Fuck, Sophie, come here.”

I straddled him. I looked down at him, and I glimpsed his cock, big and hard, ready for me. I slid the tip inside me and began to lower myself down. “Oh, God,” I said.

He made a sound that was pure pleasure and put his hands on my hips, guiding me. Then he moved his hands up to my breasts and covered them, squeezing gently.

“Oh,” I moaned as I sank deeper, deeper.

“More,” he said. His voice was throaty. “Take more. Take all of it. That’s it.”

And then I was all the way down, and he was fully inside me. It felt big and strange, and so good I could barely stand it. I leaned forward, braced myself on my hands on the bed, impaled on him, my hair hanging down.

“That hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head, my hair moving. Then I moved, back and forth, an experiment, feeling even more sensation flood me.

He made another sound that was pure sex and his hand grasped my hip, his fingers digging in. He flexed beneath me and I rocked again, and again, a little harder. I liked this. It felt fucking amazing. He was beneath me, inside me. He was mine.

I kept rocking, gaining confidence, getting my balance. His movements matched mine, thrusting into me. I could come like this, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be at his mercy again. I wanted to turn the tables.

I leaned even further down, so my breasts were brushing his chest as we moved, and whispered in his ear. “I want you to come.”

He gave a bitter laugh and strained back against the pillow. “You’re gonna get your wish.” He put his other hand on my hip so he held me firm. “You want me to come, do it harder. And don’t stop.”

So I rocked harder, with him moving slick in and out of me, and I didn’t stop. He matched my every movement, and then he held me and thrust into me from below, hard, once, twice. The third time he came, his cock pulsing deep inside me, his fingers digging hard into me, his muscles flexing. Then he relaxed slowly down onto the bed again, with me on top of him.

“Oh, God,” I said, starting to shake.

He felt me tremble and flipped me on my back, pressing me into the bed. He was still inside me. He kissed me, hard, opening my mouth, pressing me into the pillow. He kissed me until I stopped trembling and forgot everything, until I had nothing in my mind except Dex kissing me, his cock still inside me, his come still inside me. He was everything to me in that moment, and I let him be everything. I let him take over. There was nothing I wanted in that moment except him.

He’d leave, I knew. Soon. There was no way I could keep him. That was the plan.

But in that moment, just for now, I let myself believe.