Chapter 6
“Are you even listening to me?” my mother asked on the phone, sounding indignant.
Did she want honesty here? I wasn’t sure. I munched on a French fry at the gastro pub Bella had chosen for lunch. Which didn’t make sense because after choosing a restaurant specializing in contemporary versions of classic fried foods, she had ordered a salad. It defied logic. I had ordered fish and chips. “I was listening,” I told my mother. I just wasn’t particularly interested in what she was saying, which was an example of my maid of honor skills.
Bella was in the restroom for the third time. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, but I was fairly certain she was going in there to cry. I had followed her the first time but she had screamed at me to leave her alone, so I was taking her advice.
“Why is your sister so upset?” she asked. “She sent me a text that she hates her life.”
“Ask her.” I wasn’t trying to be belligerent or unhelpful but I had no idea what was wrong with Bella. “Her dress fit perfectly, Mom. She looked amazing.” She had. Yet something in that fitting room had upset her and she wasn’t letting it go, whatever it was.
“I’m so angry with your father,” Mom said, her voice filled with fury. “I should be there instead of this damn trip to Nice. Why did we have to go to France two weeks before the wedding? It’s idiotic.”
I had no answers to that either. But I knew exactly how to deal with my mother. She was no mystery. She just wanted me to agree with her. “I know,” I said, filling my voice with sympathy.
Generally speaking, my father did do idiotic things when it came to us, his family. He was a man who had achieved great heights of success, mostly because he was able to compartmentalize and because he always deemed his needs the first priority in any given situation. He had wanted to spend his birthday in France, so by God, he was going to France, even though it upset my mother and left me in charge of wedding prep with Bella. Which was a joke.
Fortunately, Bella and my mother had hired the world’s most efficient and pretentious wedding planner. “I’m going to call Lucinda,” I added, the thought just occurring to me. “Bella will confide in her.” Lucinda was in her forties and had retired from a career as a buyer for a high-end home goods store to rusticate in a small town with her infant child and her ancient husband. She had been bored almost immediately and had launched a new business venture, planning high-end weddings, specializing in unique settings, groundbreaking receptions, and stylized collaborations, whatever the hell any of that meant. It was just what it said on her website.
Her Instagram feed was filled with pictures of her child in baby couture, and weddings so spectacular they looked fake. Like build-a-blowout. Take something from every glamorous event in the last year and cram all the elements together.
Bella’s wedding was going to have Lucinda touches such as Bella arriving via sailboat, “deconstructed” bouquets, a caviar bar, and a so-called silent after-hours lounge party until 4 a.m., with headphones provided for guests to continue dancing past the noise ordinance. It all made me want to giggle, just a little, but to Mom and Bella and Lucinda, this was serious shit.
“That’s a great idea, Sophie. And come to think of it, frankly, she should have been there today. What on earth are we paying her for?”
To coordinate a million moving parts. “Maybe she was busy.” I was glad she hadn’t been there. She would never have allowed me to leave. Lucinda was scary. And if I hadn’t left I wasn’t sure Cain would have invited me over again. I was savvy enough to know that he had been really put out by his brother’s comments about him.
Mom made a sound of disdain. “Let me know what she says and tell Bella to call me or I’m going to just worry.”
I wasn’t sure how I had wound up the middleman, but it wasn’t a position I enjoyed. “Okay,” I said obediently.
“What are you girls doing tonight?”
“I’m going to a friend’s house,” I said, because it’s just not in my nature to lie. I snagged another fry, wishing my mother would hang up. I really was starting to worry about Bella now. The waiter had refilled our water glasses and glanced at Bella’s empty seat in confusion.
“What? You have a friend?” She sounded both shocked and delighted.
That made me roll my eyes. “I have friends, Mom.” I did. Unlike the majority of my childhood. My father had always told me I would meet like-minded people at college and he had been right about that. Grade school had been a different story. Just because everyone I was in class with was the child of wealthy parents didn’t mean they were intelligent. I had struggled to relate.
“Of course you do,” she said soothingly, like she didn’t believe me for one second. “What’s her name? Is she from Boston?”
“His name is Cain and he’s local.” I got a sick sense of pleasure from shocking her with that statement. Not only did she think I had no friends, she was also certain I couldn’t grab the attention of a guy.
For a second she said nothing. “Wait, is this a love interest?”
If love interest meant sex partner, sure. “He’s just someone I like to hang out with.”
“What does local mean?”
“It means he lives here year-round.”
“No one does that except staff.”
If she wasn’t so offensive, it might almost be funny. But it was offensive. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said just to be annoying.
“Well, what does he do?”
I shouldn’t have mentioned Cain at all. I realized my error. She was going to dig and pry, and her probing questions would ruin the privacy, the intimacy, of my time with Cain. I should have kept him my secret. “He’s a lobster fisherman.”
“Good Lord. He can’t come to the wedding. The numbers have already been turned in.”
Yep. Should have kept my mouth shut. “I wasn’t planning to invite him. Don’t worry.”
“There’s no future seeing someone like this, Sophie. This isn’t The Notebook. It doesn’t work in the real world.”
No mention of my happiness. No mention of how she hoped he was a kind person who treated her daughter well. It hurt my feelings, which irritated me. I had spent my whole life seeking my mother’s approval and I never received it. She had wanted another Bella. Instead, she had gotten an anomaly with shades of my father. None of her, inside or out.
“This isn’t about the future. I’m just having sex with him.”
While I can claim that I am just brutally honest, the truth is sometimes I’m petty. And that was petty. But so very satisfying. My mother gasped.
“Sophie Jane! I’m going to assume that is your bizarre sense of humor. I swear to God, you get more like your father every day. It’s twisted.”
It was probably better if she thought I was joking. “It is what it is.” I thought about pointing out that she had actually married my father, so presumably she had thought he was the shit at one point, but Bella had finally emerged from the restroom and I wanted to see what was going on with her. “Bella’s back. I’ll call you later.”
Bella just sat down and flipped her hair back as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Bel, do you have a gastrointestinal disorder or what? You were in there for twenty minutes.” And her eyes and nose were red.
She made a face. “Gross. No. I was crying. I hate my dress, Soph. I know you don’t understand it, but I despise it. It’s literally the world’s most hideous garment and I don’t even grasp how I could have thought otherwise. This is Mom’s fault. She forced me to take that one and I literally have never hated anything as much as I hate that dress on my body.”
At least she wasn’t overreacting. Not. “I’m sorry.” I was. Our mother could be overbearing. But the dress wasn’t ugly.
I bit into my fish, making a face when I realized it was cold. “But are you sure that’s all it is?” I sort of kept waiting for the moment when she realized Bradley was a douchebag. “Are you having doubts about marriage?”
She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Of course not!”
Then I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. “So get a new dress.”
“That dress cost twenty grand and it was ordered six months ago.”
“Don’t they sell some that are in stock?”
Bella sipped her iced tea and gave me a look of disdain. “As if I’d wear a three-hundred-dollar dress off the rack. Give me a break.”
She sounded like our mother and it was annoying. I shrugged. “So I guess you’re stuck with your twenty-thousand-dollar turd.”
Because if the price tag was what mattered, shouldn’t she automatically love it?
But Bella shoved her chair back. “You’re such a bitch sometimes. I know you think I’m vain and materialistic but I don’t have your brains. I don’t get excited by math or pi or gravity or whatever.”
I opened my mouth to say that as pi was a numerical value it was included within the subject header of math, but I stopped myself. No one wants to be corrected. My mother had been drilling that into me since preschool. I just let Bella continue.
“Why can’t you understand that this matters to me? You may think it’s stupid, but I’ve waited my whole life for my wedding and I want it to be perfect.”
I felt guilty. I wasn’t trying to dismiss her concerns. “It will be perfect. Because you’re perfect. You’ll be the most beautiful bride ever.” She would be, because she had been blessed with a beauty that was currently in style.
“You’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.” But she did pull her chair back in. “You’re doing that thing with your straw when you get stressed.”
I was. It was a tic that drove my mother crazy. But when I fretted, I put my finger on the top of the straw, trapping the liquid in the tube, then lifted it and dropped it over the ice. I did it to confirm gravity. “I don’t feel sorry for you.” But I couldn’t stop myself from creating a vacuum seal on my straw and repeating my action.
Bella sighed. “Why does your water stay in the straw like that anyway?”
“Sealing the top of a straw with your finger stops air entering and exerting a downward force on the liquid, leaving only the upward force of air pressure from below. This upward force is stronger than the force of gravity pulling down on the liquid. It doesn’t work on a larger scale though. The external capillary—”
I stopped speaking. Bella didn’t really care and I was getting off-subject. But she actually laughed. “You’re such a nerd,” she said, but it was spoken with affection. “I wish you would get that excited about wearing false eyelashes.”
“Don’t waste your wishes on the impossible. But I am really sorry you don’t love the dress. I thought it looked amazing on you.”
“Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. “By the way, don’t freak out or turn around but the guy you hooked up with just walked in the door.”
I started to turn.
“Oh, my God, will you follow directions?” she hissed. “Don’t. Turn. Around. It’s too obvious. He has a little kid with him.”
I looked anyway, disappointed to see that it was, in fact, Christian. He had entered the restaurant carrying his son, who had on an adorable pair of red sunglasses. “That’s actually his twin brother, not him.”
“There are two of him?” She sounded scandalized.
“Well, not two of him. Just two humans with the same DNA.”
“Human number two is coming over here,” she said, sounding thoroughly intrigued.
“Sophie Bigelow,” Christian said. “How’s your lunch?”
“Cold,” I said truthfully.
He laughed. “Who is your friend?” he asked, giving Bella a once-over. There was a definite look of appreciation.
“This is my sister, Bella. Bella, this is Christian, Cain’s brother.” Then because I was still holding a grudge against Christian, I decided not to mention Bella was getting married. Let him be disappointed when he found out.
“Nice to meet you.” Bella touched the little boy’s leg. “Who is this cutie?”
I realized I had never asked the child’s name. That was typical of me. Social niceties didn’t come naturally.
“This is Camp.”
“Camp?” Bella repeated, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard it right or not.
“Yes. His mother named him. Don’t hold it against him.” Christian smiled, and I supposed most girls would say it was charming.
It was bizarre though, that he was identical in appearance to Cain, yet I had no attraction to him. It didn’t even feel strange to be staring at a man who looked exactly like a man I had kissed and touched so intimately.
“There are no rules these days for naming kids. I think it’s unique.”
Bella had social graces. I knew she didn’t believe that for one minute. She loved rules.
Christian laughed. “Well. If his mother ever reappears I’ll let her know. But considering she hasn’t called in sixteen months, I’m not holding my breath.”
That made me set my straw back down, a little surprised. That seemed like a little bit too much information. But it had the effect on Bella he had probably intended. Her hand came to her chest and her eyes went soft. She squeezed Camp’s little foot and stroked the smooth skin of his leg.
“Oh, my goodness, who could leave this little sweetheart?” I could practically hear her ovaries fluttering. Bella wanted to be a mother.
Me? I wasn’t sure. In theory, maybe. But only once I had accepted the inevitable fact that they wouldn’t be miniature versions of myself. I was only going to take that step when I could fully embrace they would be totally unique creatures and I wouldn’t know who or what they would be until they were here in existence already.
But I still felt the same tenderness that other women did when they saw cute babies. Camp was an adorable kid. I wondered if Cain had looked like that when he was a toddler. Then I worried why I cared.
Christian didn’t respond to Bella’s rhetorical question, which was probably a good thing. Personally, I did not want to hear the intimate details of his failed relationship with a woman who would ditch her child.
He gave her a smile. “I’d better get this guy some food before he launches a protest.”
He was a fairly silent child. He was just watching everything around him, his fist gripping the sleeve of Christian’s T-shirt. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the shades. I wondered if they were the same ice-blue as his father’s. And Cain’s.
“Nice to meet you,” Bella said. Her voice took on a singsong quality. “And you too, Campy.”
It was a talent she had, adding a vowel to the end of names that didn’t want one.
“Good to see you, Sophie,” Christian said. “I hope to see you around, Bella.”
Bella seemed to realize at that moment that he was a little too interested in her. Her eyes widened as she watched him walk away. He waved to the hostess, who led him to a table toward the back of the restaurant.
Then Bella shocked me by saying, “It’s so weird. He’s so much sexier than your guy.”
First of all, she was wrong. And there was no second of all. She was just wrong. “How do you figure that? Christian is too…fake-charming. Cain is straightforward. Also, that is rude to me. They’re identical twins but somehow you want to make sure I know I got the loser twin?” I was offended and there was no denying it.
To her credit, she looked contrite. “No, I wasn’t saying anything about you. I guess it’s just strange that they look the same, but their vibe is different. And you know I’m always going to be more into the charmers than the ones who are blunt. And you vice versa.”
Something about her tone had me tilting my head. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”
“What? No. Of course not!” Yet, her cheeks turned red.
“It sounds like he has baby mama drama,” I added, in case that wasn’t obvious. Plus, his twin brother hated him and there had to be a reason for that, right?
Bella picked up her fork and stabbed a cherry tomato. “I’m engaged. I’m getting married. I was just making an observation. Do not read anything into it. You of all people never read anything into stuff like this. What, one slip of the D and you’re psychic?”
Ouch. That seemed a bit of an overreaction. “That was unnecessarily harsh and insulting.”
To my horror her face crumpled and she started to cry. “Oh, my God, I have to leave!” She widened her eyes and stood and said through gritted teeth, “I’ll be in the car. Please pay the bill.”
I nodded, stunned. She walked carefully out of the restaurant, clearly not wanting everyone to see how upset she was.
Mournfully, I stared down at my ruined lunch and sighed. I flagged the waiter down. A woman in her forties walked past me and I realized she was joining Christian and Camp. His mother? Possibly. She greeted him and then bent over and kissed Camp. After she sat down she glanced back at me, as if Christian had said something to her. But that was ludicrous. Christian wouldn’t tell his mother he met his brother’s hookup at the park. Guys didn’t gossip like that, especially not with their mother.
I was turning into a basic girl. One who had an invisible audience everywhere she went. It was mortifying. I left an enormous tip as an apology for our hogging the table and not even eating our food.
And damn it, I glanced over at Christian again because he looked so much like Cain. I wanted to see Cain.
But I saw both his mother and him watching me.
Unlike Bella, who had retreated with dignity, I bolted, my hip knocking the chair as I turned hastily to get out.
I found my sister waiting by the locked car. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. She was composed and cool. Her hair was smooth and she had put on fresh lipstick.
“Okay,” I said. Because I didn’t want to talk about anything either. “But I have to warn you I told Mom I had sex with Cain. She was predictably upset.”
Bella’s jaw dropped as I unlocked the car. Then she started laughing. “You’re crazy, you know that? One of these days you are going to admit that you say things just to piss her off.”
“I do. I admit it.” I grinned at her. “I’m a full-fledged woman now. I have to be mature about things.”
Bella laughed. “Ew. You’re so gross, Soph.”
I was eager. Eager to see Cain.
My hand was shaking from the effort to resist a drink. I had been craving alcohol since I’d gotten off work at five, but I was determined not to be loaded when Sophie came over. I was cleaning up my house, running the sweeper, and making sure the bathroom didn’t look like a bachelor hellhole, when I spotted Sophie’s beer bottle from the night before. Those insect-looking lashes still clung to the bottle and it made me smile. Instead of tossing the empty beer I set it on the kitchen counter for no reason other than that I wanted to look at it and be reminded of Sophie.
I also settled on a compromise, reaching in the fridge for a beer and twisting the top off. No whiskey, but I needed something. The desire to drink was a gnawing need that was increasing with every minute, making me irritable and fixated on nothing but that urge. I needed to just take the edge off. Just a little. The beer tasted like water in the desert to a dying man. Cool and crisp. It slid down my throat so quickly, by the time I set the bottle down on the countertop, half the beer was gone.
That was more like it. The demons receded just a little, my hands steadying slightly. A little unnerving how fast my body responded to the balm, yet it made me feel so much lighter and easier that I didn’t give a shit. I could take on the world now. I lifted the bottle again and drained it.
Sophie was driving herself over. I refused to think about my brother. Not a single damn thought of him was going to enter my head for the next few hours. This was a second chance I wasn’t expecting and I was going to enjoy every fucking minute of time with her.
She knocked on the door a minute later, which was different. Most girls texted “I’m here” like they were afraid to put their skin on wood and announce their presence so resoundingly. Not Sophie. She knocked like nobody’s damn business. Like she was certain of her reception. Which she should be. I wanted her the way I hadn’t anyone in a long-ass time. Maybe ever. Just hearing that knock had me hard.
I pulled open the door. “Hey.”
Sophie was standing there, dressed completely different from the night before. Now she was wearing tight jeans and a T-shirt with a unicorn on it. Not a literal unicorn but a cartoon version of one. It was juvenile, yet oddly appropriate for her. It was the same shirt she had been wearing earlier when we had talked on FaceTime but unfortunately now she had put a bra on. There had been something so damn hot about that silly shirt stretched over her full breasts. She had black Converse on her feet this time, instead of the hot pink of the night before. Her face was mostly makeup free and she looked younger but even more beautiful. It occurred to me that she now looked as fresh and innocent as she had actually been the night before when I’d met her—before I had claimed some of that sweet innocence.
“Hi,” she said, her hands slipping into her back pockets. She didn’t carry a purse and the gesture sent her breasts forward, making my mouth water.
I hadn’t expected her to give in to my dirty little request to show me her tits when she was at the salon, but she had, and now this little tease made me want to ease her shirt up and ditch that unnecessary bra. Sophie didn’t smile at me. She just gave me one of those long, earnest stares, gazing up at me under her eyelashes with unblinking intensity.
Then she almost imperceptibly slipped the tip of her tongue out and drew it across her bottom lip.
Damn. She was on my doorstep and already killing me. “Get in here.” I reached out and tugged her arm free of her back pocket, lacing my fingers through hers.
“Oh!” she said, but she didn’t resist when I drew her forward into my arms.
Sophie lifted her head, offering her mouth to me. Offering everything. It was all there in her guileless open eyes, open lips.
Women offered themselves to me all the time. It was nothing special or important or even flattering. It usually said more about them, and their needs, than about me. Maybe it did with Sophie as well. But I chose to find more meaning in it, because I fucking needed it to. I needed to know that if I was breaking all my damn rules—namely, repeating a hookup and staying off the drink—I was right to do so. Not that she wasn’t worthy, because she so obviously fucking was, but that I was worthy.
I had intended to take her mouth hard, claim her, remind her who was the wolf. But when she tilted her head up to me like that, I found myself giving her a soft, teasing kiss. Not sweet, but not demanding either. A sensual kiss. The kind I never gave anymore. But Sophie coaxed one from me anyway. It was brief, but I couldn’t help but smirk at her as I pulled back, seeing how stunned she looked. I wanted to spend all night shocking her, in the best way possible.
I drew her into the house. “How was your day? A bridal salon sounds like a special kind of hell to me, but I guess girls are into that sort of thing.”
“Not this girl.” She made a face. “My sister is having some sort of dress crisis. It was horrible. She looks amazing in it, but she was upset all afternoon.”
“Yep. Hell.” I went into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open. Another beer wasn’t going to hurt. I drank ten times that much on a normal night. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” She came into the kitchen behind me. “Why do you still have my false eyelashes?” she asked, gesturing to the bottle I’d set there earlier.
After pulling two beers out, I winked at her. “Trophy.”
“Why, are you going to kill me? I thought your cousin seemed confident that you wouldn’t.”
“What? No, of course I’m not going to kill you.” I reached out and tapped my thumb on her nipple. “I’m going to fuck you.”
She was so easy to arouse. Instantly, her cheeks went pink and her eyes grew slumberous. “I associate trophies with serial killers.”
I drew my thumb across the peak of her T-shirt to the other nipple and rolled it over the bud visible beneath the cotton. “I didn’t mean that literally. I just didn’t get around to throwing the bottle away.” Not quite true, but how could I explain to Sophie what I didn’t understand myself?
“Oh, okay. I can be too literal sometimes. Ask Bella.”
“I like that about you. I like that you’re no bullshit, Sophie Bigelow.”
“I like that you don’t try to be this charming douchebag.” I twisted the top of the beer off and handed it to her. She took a small sip. “Like your brother.”
My grip tightened on my own bottle. “I appreciate that. But I don’t want to talk about my brother.” I forced myself to lean back against the counter and relax. “Tell me about you. You’re in school, right?” This was a girl who would be in school for years still if I had to take a guess.
She nodded. “I’m working on my master’s degree in mathematics with the end goal being a PhD.”
No shocker there. She told me she had been too distracted by math to have sex. Difficult to comprehend, but there it was. “In Boston? That’s where you’re from, right?”
“Yes. I grew up in Boston. I did undergrad at Stanford, but I hated California. So I’m back on the East Coast at Harvard.”
Cain gave a low whistle. “Harvard. Damn, girl. You are not messing around.”
She shrugged. “Not a lot of schools offer what I wanted.” She sipped her beer. It was a tiny, delicate little sip. But she still managed to get a droplet on her lip.
I reached out and wiped it off, taking my finger to my mouth and sucking the small bead of liquid. “It’s good to know what you want.”
“It is. What do you want?”
“You.” I could ask her about her studies, about her apartment, potential roommates, her family, her sister’s wedding. But I didn’t want to talk. And I didn’t think she did either.
“Can I give you a blow job?” she asked.
It takes a lot to surprise me, but Sophie had a habit of always throwing me a curveball. “What?”
“Last night you told me no. And I just really want to because I have been practicing.”
She had my curiosity roused, I’d give her that. “And how exactly did you practice?” If she had gone around blowing random math nerds I was going to be pissed. I wanted to be her big bad wolf, the only one responsible for that so-called sexual awakening she had mentioned. In other words, I wanted her to discover the power of sucking off a guy, only with me.
“I took a class at an erotic dance studio. It was called ‘Blow Him Away’ and they showed the students various techniques and we practiced with bananas.”
For a second I had no words. All I had was a visual of Sophie sitting in a classroom, studious as hell, needing to be top of the class, deep-throating a Dole. My cock throbbed in my jeans at the thought. Holy fuck. “So this will be your first time on an actual cock?”
If the answer was no I was still looking forward to having her down on her knees, but if the answer was yes? I couldn’t wait to see how well Sophie had learned her lessons.
“Yes.”
Couldn’t ask for any more than that. With any other girl I would assume that would make for a lackluster blow job, given the lack of experience, but with Sophie, it was totally different. She would be eager to test what she knew, and what guy doesn’t want an eager woman sucking on his dick?
“Then I’m ready whenever you are.” I watched her, taking another draw on my beer.
She took a deep breath, pulled her phone out of her back pocket, and slapped it on the counter. Then she put her beer down next to it. “I’m ready now.”
Just what I wanted to hear. I drained the last of my beer and set it down. I yanked my T-shirt off over my head and dropped it on the counter. Then I said, “Come to the couch.”
She actually didn’t wait for me. She just walked over to the couch and sat down. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d cracked her knuckles in preparation. She looked like she was about to tackle a challenging equation, not my cock. Maybe I needed to loosen her up, just a little. I sat down next to her and reached out, stroking her hair back from her face.
“I love your eyes,” I said. “I love that you don’t look away from me.”
“I love your eyes too,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen blue eyes like yours.”
Unfortunately, I had—my brother’s. So instead of responding, I shifted closer to her and kissed her. The way I had intended to initially when she first stood in my doorway. I took her mouth, hard, and teased open her lips so I could sweep my tongue in and taste her. I wanted my tongue to remind her of me, between her legs, eating her pussy.
It clearly did because she gasped, her hands automatically pressing against my chest. I liked the feel of those soft, tiny hands on me, her nails digging into my skin. “Cain,” she murmured.
But I hushed her with my lips on hers again, lifting the hem of her T-shirt so I could caress that ribbon of flesh above her waistband. She had such soft skin, and curves that hadn’t seen much gym time. Most likely her time was spent in the library or computer lab or wherever someone might do math shit. She was pale for June, like she had skipped the early trips to the beach.
I peeled her shirt off over her head. That unicorn was mildly distracting. I was tempted to take her bra off but I doubted she was going to feel comfortable going down on me naked. If I had to guess, she hadn’t actually practiced that way. I could tell by the way she looked at me that I was correct. She looked a little unnerved but then resolutely reached for the button on my jeans.
“How should I do this?” she asked, biting her bottom lip. “Here on the couch or should I get on the floor or what?” There was mild panic in her eyes now, like she was realizing how completely different it was to have another human being in front of her.
“What did you do with the banana?”
“I was in a chair, at a desk. I don’t think that applies here.”
She looked so mournful I had to laugh just a little. “Then here, let’s do this. Get on your knees on the carpet between my legs.” The angle would be easier for her. And hell, what guy didn’t want a woman on her knees in front of him?
I didn’t want my pants on at all, so as she shifted back I stood up and dropped them along with my boxer briefs. I stepped out of them entirely and tossed them on the coffee table. When I sat back down Sophie’s jaw was open, but not in the way I was hoping.
She was mid-slide off the couch.
“What?” I asked.
But she shook her head and dropped completely to the floor, wiggling between the coffee table and my leg to get herself into position. Sophie faced my lap, blew her hair out of her eyes, and went down on me.
It was the most awkward entrance to a blow job I’d ever experienced in my life, but all that was irrelevant the minute her warm mouth enclosed over my hard cock.