Page 31 of Rescuing Sophia

“I promise.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion I feel for this man.

“I’m going to push you.”

“I hope so.” My breath catches.

Blake pulls back slightly, his gaze intense. “Good. Now, tell me what you want.” His voice is low, commanding.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “To serve. However, you need.”

“Are you sure this isn’t because of your past?” Blake’s expression softens. “You can always say no. There’s no judgment.”

“I’m sure.” I silence him with a kiss, pouring my certainty into it. When I pull back, we’re both breathless.

“And if I tell you to kneel?” His grip on my hips tightens.

“Then I kneel.” A shiver runs down my spine.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods. His voice drops, taking on the edge of command. “On your knees.”

Without hesitation, I slide off the bed and kneel before him.

For the first time, this is something I want—something I choose, not something forced upon me. The realization washes over me, bittersweet and powerful. Yet, even as I revel in this newfound freedom, a shadow of unease flits across my mind. Unseen strings exist, forces I can’t escape. I push the disquiet away, focusing on Blake’s heated gaze.

This moment is real. My desire for him is genuine, even if the circumstances that brought us together are more complex than he knows.

Blake slips from the bed, standing before me. His broad hand grips his rigid and engorged cock. He reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. The tenderness in his touch nearly undoes me, but the steel of his command ignites a firestorm within me.

“Open your mouth.”

I lean into his touch, savoring the connection. Yes, there are complications I can’t share, burdens I must bear alone, but with him, I allow myself to believe in the possibility of something untainted by my circumstances.

I’m ready to explore every bit of it while I can, hoping that the genuine feelings growing between us might ultimately outweigh the deceptions I’m forced to maintain.

I part my lips obediently, eager to please him, feeling my heart race as he leans in to press the head of his cock against them. His taste is intoxicating—something unique to Blake. I inhale deeply, taking in his scent as he presses forward slowly.

My tongue darts out to explore the veins on the underside of his shaft. He groans softly, a deep rumble that vibrates against mytongue and resonates through my body. His hands grip my hair gently but firmly as he thrusts deeper, stretching my mouth with each powerful stroke. He grips my jawline, holding me in place as he experiments with the depths of my mouth.

The musky scent of arousal fills the room as his cock slides in and out, hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. It’s intense and overwhelming.

His hips move faster, picking up pace as he loses himself to the sensations I’m creating. The rhythm is hypnotic, almost trance-like; it forces me to focus on nothing but the feel of his cock sliding in and out of my mouth.

His other hand rests possessively on the back of my head, a controlling and commanding presence. His fingers intertwine with my hair, caressing gently before tightening their grip to guide my movements with precision. His cock slides in deep, filling my mouth with his heat, and he withdraws slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips—a sound that sends shivers down my spine.

Every vein in his shaft pulsates against my tongue as he thrusts deeper, the rhythm growing more insistent. My throat constricts around him, a primal reaction that I fight, fiercely determined to take all of him. The overwhelming heat of his body radiates, wrapping me in an intoxicating haze that urges me to please and serve him tirelessly.

My free hand wanders between my thighs, seeking solace from the molten ache building there, the slickness betraying my desperate need. I’m sure I appear like a wanton slut, kneeling with hungry eyes and an eager, bobbing head wholly devoted to his pleasure. To be used by him, to earn his gaze filled with such intensity, is an exquisite torment I crave more than anything.

Abruptly, he pulls out, leaving me gasping and whimpering in protest. My hand reaches for him instinctively, driven by an uncontrollable desire to reconnect, but he raises a stern finger in warning.

“Remove your hand from your clit,” he growls, a low, commanding whisper that reverberates with power. His cock twitches in anticipation, his hand running through his tousled hair. “The privilege of touching yourself is mine to give or take. Yourpleasure—every ounce of it—belongs to me now.” He grips my wandering hand and delivers a sharp slap.

The light sting spreads through me, igniting a ripple of pleasure that tingles every nerve.

He grabs a fistful of my hair again, this time with more force, and directs my mouth back to his still-throbbing cock. His demand is clear—longer, deeper strokes that push me past my limits.

My gag reflex protests, but the intensity of the act feels both dirty and exquisitely decadent, forbidden yet thrilling beyond belief. He thrusts deep, holding himself inside me for what feels like an eternity, before a low, primal growl signals his release, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

The air is thick with lust as he pulls me to my feet. My legs feel weak and unsteady beneath me, but my eyes remain locked on his. He pushes me back onto the bed, his motions commanding and forceful, spreading my legs apart at the knees as he kneels between them.

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