twenty-one
DOWN BELOW, IN the berth, Sophie and King stood naked in front of each other.
He came forward, closing the space to inches between them.
The tip of her breasts tingled from his body heat. The sight of his hard shaft rising up on his taut abdomen, so close but not touching her, made Sophie ache. She reached for him.
He shook his head and took a step back. “Lie down. Let me look at you.”
Sophie turned and placed a knee on the bed.
His sharp inhale made her look over her shoulder.
He stared at the birthmark near the back of her right hip. “I knew it. Your ass is too damn perfect to be just a dream.”
Were his dreams as sexually explicit as hers had been about him? Sophie lay back on the mattress. King’s gaze, drifting from her face to her breasts, lingering on her sex, moving down her legs and back up again, was like a slow caress.
If he wanted to look at her, she’d give him something to see. Sophie widened her legs.
King’s cock jerked in response.
How far could she push him? She stretched one hand over her head. With her other, she glided a finger over her pussy. The wantonness of pleasuring herself in front of him brought a rush. Sophie delved deeper and deeper.
King’s gaze, riveted between her thighs, spurred her on.
She grazed her clit and erotic sensation thrummed inside of her. Her breathing grew rushed. Sophie licked away the dryness from her bottom lip. She was so close.
Suddenly, King climbed on the bed. He pushed her hand aside.
Searing kisses branded her thighs. His harsh exhales heated her sex. He plunged his tongue inside of her. Already on the verge of climax, Sophie felt his groan rumbling into her, shooting her into sensual ecstasy.
He gripped her undulating hips as she met the bold strokes of his tongue, lost in the desire for more. She arched up from the mattress, unable to suppress the incoherent words tumbling out of her.
King drew her clit into his mouth and the intensity of Sophie’s orgasm tore a cry out of her.
He held her tighter as he relentlessly flicked over her sensitive flesh and sucked harder. Punishing her in the most decadent way. Overwhelming her with pleasure. It was too much.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Stop. I can’t. I can’t take anymore.”
“You will.” As he rose up from between her thighs, the unadulterated lust in his gaze made her shiver. “Because we’re just getting started.”
King stalked to the bathroom and came back out rolling a condom onto his cock.
Anticipation made her heart bump in her chest as he climbed on the bed.
King lined himself up with the opening of her sex, and in one long stroke, he pushed inside of her. His exhale caused his abdomen to draw tight, and his six-pack turned into an eight. “I couldn’t sleep because I wanted you so much.” He pulled out and drove back into her pussy. “All I could think about was this.” He did it again. “All I wanted was this.” He punctuated his words with more deep strokes, paralyzing her with pleasure. “And now. You. Are. Mine.” King lifted her hips.
With each stroke of his length, unrestrained desire burned brighter inside of her.
She dug her fingers into the comforter and lifted her hips. “Harder.”
The bed shook as his successive thrusts hit places inside of Sophie that made her quiver, arch her back, and cry his name, over and over again.
Another orgasm swept over her.
King tensed and gripped her hips harder. “Holy fuck!” He bucked his hips as if his sole mission was to bury himself deeper inside of her as he found release.
King tucked a sleeping Sophie closer against him in the full-size berth. They’d spent the morning in bed. From the way the sun shone through the windows, it was past noon. Sex had brought relief, but King was still too amped up to close his eyes. Was this reality? Was Sophie truly in his arms?
He spooned her against him and immersed himself in the scent he craved. Sexy, subtle, and all her.
Sophie stretched, and her butt cradled his hardening cock. She chuckled. “Again? Already?”
He kissed down her neck. “I just want to hold you.”
She turned, laid her head on his shoulder, and rested her leg on top of his. “That’s what you said the last time.”
“I promise.” At least for as long as he could. Now that the image of her in that sexy bikini was burned into his mind, not touching her was nearly impossible.
She stroked his chest, and something sharp dragged over his skin.
“Ouch.” He lifted Sophie’s hand.
Her bracelet dangled. She examined it. “One of the charms broke.”
King popped open the clasp and slipped it off. “Maybe you hit it against something.” The red jeweled charms, interspersed with clear crystals and gold balls, sparkled in the light. “Is it part of your collection?”
“It’s a prototype. I’ll have to find better-quality charms. The jewelry for Meagan’s line has to stand up to daily wear.”
He handed it to her. Even with the broken charm, the piece exuded excellent workmanship and style. “How long have you been making jewelry?”
“Since I could walk.” She laid the bracelet on the cut-in shelf above the bed. “According to my mom, I’d take the big plastic blocks that snapped together and turn them into necklaces. When I was five, I upped my skills to elbow macaroni and string. She’d let me use her brushes to paint them.”
“Your mom was an artist?”
“Yes.” Sophie hesitated. “My father too. He was a sculptor.”
“I didn’t know that. Are their works displayed anywhere?”
She stiffened in his arms.
Sophie had said she was up for weekend sex. Not twenty questions about her personal life. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No. It’s okay. I just haven’t talked about them in a while. You caught me off guard.” She relaxed. “I don’t know much about him. They ran off to an art commune in Nevada when she was nineteen. I was born a year later. He left my mom when I was three.”
He stroked her back. “A single parent at twenty. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”
“Mom was a hard worker. For the longest time, she waitressed during the day and cleaned offices at night.” Sophie absently traced a pattern on his stomach. “When she couldn’t find a babysitter, she’d take me with her. I’d sit in a corner with paper and colored pencils.”
“Did you draw jewelry?”
She laughed. “Along with fairy kingdoms and puppies.”
Sophie liked dogs too? He’d pegged her as a cat person. “What about your mom? Did she continue to paint?”
“For a while. Then she got too busy. I had school activities. She became a supervisor at the office-cleaning company.” Sophie’s voice caught. “Basically, she gave up what she loved to take care of me.”
“No.” He tipped up her chin. “She chose you because she loved you more. Sounds like you had a great mom.”
“She was.” Her smile wobbled. “Compared to how you grew up, my childhood must sound awful.”
A harsh chuckle slipped out. “You met Gerard. No one would ever nominate him for father of the year. My mother did her best to compensate for his lack of parenting. Aiden and I had what we needed, but she was mostly preoccupied with the impossible task of trying to please Gerard.”
Sophie wrapped her arm around him in a partial embrace. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean for him to come up.”
“Fair game. I asked about your parents.”
Why? He’d never discussed family history with other women. Restlessness spread through him. King rose from the bed. He snagged his shorts from the floor. “I should check on things.”
Up top at the helm, he plotted a northward course on the navigational equipment. Nothing but a smooth ride all the way home and back to reality. Aiden. The Ivy Gate. Sophie leaving.
He sat in the captain’s seat. It was as if he was just getting to know Sophie. Somehow over the past few years he’d missed things, like how she preferred raw sugar in her coffee. How she broke out in hives if she ate too much lobster, but she could tolerate shrimp. She had a playful sense of humor, and when she truly laughed, tiny dimples sunk into her cheeks. There were new things he was learning about her as well. Like how she hogged the covers in a dead sleep, but if he reached for her, she came willingly into his arms.
He reclined in the chair. What she’d said about her childhood, how she’d gotten started making jewelry—he wouldn’t have guessed any of that if she hadn’t shared it. But then again, he’d never bothered to ask. His own confession about his parents had caught him by surprise, but telling her about his family hadn’t felt completely strange. Oddly, it had felt . . . right.