A trickle of sweat slid down my back. I didn’t think I was this nervous the night that I lost my virginity when I was fifteen.

“Princess, where’s your room?” I pressed my lips to hers, sweeping my tongue into her mouth as I carried her up the stairs, using the wall to steady me.

“To the left,” she panted.

I entered her room, and all pretenses of having this under control were lost. I was in Sophie’s room. Sophie Kostas.

“Give me a second, okay?” Sophie tapped my arms for me to put her down. When I did, she walked over to her dresser, pulled something from the top drawer, and then shut herself in her bathroom.

Slipping off my shoes, I rubbed the back of my neck, then brought my hand down and fumbled with the watch’s wristband. Fuck, I was jittery. I turned around, taking in her room. The pale yellow of the room wasn’t girly, but it was soft. The scent was a mix of flowers, I wasn’t sure which ones, but I knew that I’d never forget the fragrance.

I looked up when she opened the door again, wearing a T-shirt and if she was wearing something else I didn’t notice because she was absolutely perfect. She licked her lips, and in three strides I was next to her, pulling her toward the bed until she was lying in the center. Her olive skin was a stark contrast to the pale yellow of the comforter. As I rubbed my face against hers, it turned a soft red from the stubble of my unshaven chin. Something about the marks I left on her was thrilling, a claiming, and I found myself getting harder than I had ever been before.

After crawling up beside her, I rested on one elbow. Placing small kisses along her arms, I brought her hands to my lips before kissing each finger and then sucking them one by one into my mouth.

“Carter, please. I want you.” She pulled her lip between her teeth.

“Oh God, Sophie. Stop biting that lip, I’m the only one that should do that.” With my thumb, I pulled her bottom lip out and moved in for a deeper kiss.

“Carter.”

She said my name as a sigh when I slid my hand to the hem of her shirt and skimmed the lace edge of her panties. I moved the elastic to the side and slid one finger to her core, lightly tracing her folds. She bucked at my touch, and I pulled back to give her a second.

Sliding my hand back down to her panties, I slowly started working them off. Pushing up, I sat on my haunches and looked down at her, she was beautiful. Moving to the bottom of the bed, I dragged her panties with me until they were off her and she was open and inviting. I wanted to see her, all of her, but when I reached for the hem of her shirt to lift it off, she held it down.

“I want to leave it on.”

“Please, I need to see you, touch you,” I was begging, I was desperate for her.

“I don’t like having my breasts touched.” She didn’t meet my eyes when she said that, which gave me pause. More than anything I wanted to take in every inch of her bared body but something told me to slow down, that if I asked again, she would bolt.

So, I moved back down her body, urging her legs apart and dropping my mouth close to her sex. “Does my princess like to have her pussy eaten?”

She let out a whimper at my words as I spread her lips apart. “So. Fucking. Hot.” With one long stroke of my tongue, her nails were biting into my scalp and she was pressing my head down into her warm center. “That’s right, baby, I’m home.” Each lick and twirl of my tongue had her gasping. I’d never been big on eating a girl out. I used my cock and my fingers to get the job done, and hell, both bordered on magical. But watching Sophie’s climax build and listening to her tiny moans as she stretched to find her release had me fucking reevaluating my stance. She was close and just watching her had me ready to explode. Sliding one finger inside her, I stilled at the feel of how fucking tight she was and then added a second. Holy shit, I wasn’t going to last. I moved my fingers, stretching her, and then licked every drop that poured from her. When her body tightened with the first pulse of her orgasm, I was moaning with her. I’d never imagined finding satisfaction at just watching someone else, but God damn, she was a fucking work of art when she came. Waiting for her grip on my fingers to relax, I rolled off the bed, watching her as I pulled a condom from my wallet, tossed it onto the bed, and pulled my clothes off.

Stretching out next to her, I swept my fingers up her arms and watched the hairs prickle. With a pull, I rolled her on top of me and set her on my legs, she was bare, exposed, and straddling me, it was the hottest fucking thing ever. She leaned forward, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw. She pulled back then unwrapped the condom and slid it down my throbbing cock.

I held myself at the base while she lifted her hips and slowly sank down on me.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let loose a half-moan, half-sigh, as I urged her to lift just the smallest amount before sliding down again. Each stroke had me writhing as much as she was, her head swung in abandonment as she gave herself over to the ecstasy. Sophie twisted her hips, and I was a teenager again on prom night. Since hearing her name again after all this time, I’d been in no mood to go out with any women. The months of no action except for PALMela HANDerson had me on the edge of blowing deep inside her. “Holy fucking shit, slow down, babe.” She looked at me with an evil grin and only quickened her strokes, up and down. Her nails trailed down my chest before she leaned back and moved her hands to rest behind her on my thighs so that she was open. I could see my dick diving deep into her body and disappearing, and that was all it took for me to come. Each thrust of her hips matched my throb of release until I had nothing left. She fell forward and rested her head against my chest, my cock still inside her as I swept her sweat-soaked hair away from her face. I listened to the sounds of her breaths, and it had my dick getting hard again. Usually, I was like most guys and needed a break between orgasms to build up a little reservoir, but my cock had become a freethinker when Sophie was around and was doing his own thing.

She let out a giggle.

“Should I be offended that you’re laughing while I’m still inside you?” I placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

She laughed again. “No, it kind of tickles.”

“What does?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You. I can feel you getting bigger and harder.”

“You can, can you? Want to know what else you’re going to feel?”

* * *

Almost two hours later, I was leaning back against Sophie’s headboard and she was in my arms. “Okay, Miss Story Teller, why don’t you tell me a story?”

She leaned back, and I could practically see the wheels in her head working as she tried to concoct a story.

“Well, once upon a time”—she gave me a wicked smile—“there was this man who worked in a meat packing plant in Philadelphia, and every day, he would hang the meat, and as a workout, he would punch it. POW. POW.” Her hands waved as she told the story, which had me pondering if she could still talk if I taped her hands down. “Well, one day, this guy sees him and says, ‘You’d be a great boxer,’ so he starts training.” I let out my first laugh, trying to figure out where the fuck this story was going. “He gets good, really good, and starts winning all of these boxing matches. Eventually, he goes on to become the heavyweight champion of the world. And as he is standing in the center of the ring, holding this giant god-awful-no-sense-of-style-what-so-ever belt above his head, he looks out into the crowd for his wife, but he can’t find her. So, he starts shouting, ‘Adrian! Yo, Adrian!’”

I grabbed her and pulled her to the bed tickling her. The sound of her laughter warmed every part of my soul.

“I think that story has already been written.” The look of feigned shock on her face was adorable. “But we can always name our firstborn Rocky.” I lowered my lips to hers, and my dick was ready to go again.