Page 82 of Trying Sophie

“You ruin me.” He dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Just completely destroy me,” he added, taking the kiss deeper.

“Let me show you Sophie,” he whispered, his gaze locked on mine. “I promise it’ll be good. I’ll be so good to you.”

I nodded and he licked the seam of my lips. Opening to him, felt the tangle of his tongue against my own, the taste of him imprinted forever on my memory.

“Yes,” I whispered and kissed him back, hungrily, as he scooped me into his arms and carried me to bed.

* * *

Declan

For yearsI’d imagined this moment, what it would be like. But now that I was here, I experienced a moment of panic, worried that my fantasy wouldn’t live up to reality.

“What?” she asked on a breathless whisper. “You’re staring.”

“I can’t help myself.”

I needed to stop though, and soon because her eyes threatened to undo me.

You can do this, I told myself. This is Sophie. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.

But even as I tried to convince myself, my panic escalated. This level of intimacy terrified me. And even though I wanted it with this amazing, beautiful woman, I didn’t know if I could bring myself to cross that line.

The truth was, I liked my sex rough and expedient, with zero emotional ties. I shied away from fucking anyone I cared about, or could imagine myself coming to care for in the future. I didn’t just avoid intimacy, I rejected it entirely. I wasn’t soft. I didn’t linger afterwards or cuddle. I’d never whispered words of endearment or stared longingly into a woman’s eyes as I claimed her. The reality was, I didn’t look them in the eye at all. Ever.

I never led those women on about what I wanted from them. Everyone knew the score: wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I wasn’t a complete asshole though; I made sure they came. I just couldn’t give them any more than that.

But what I felt for Sophie wasn’t how it was with the others. It went deeper than anything I’d ever felt. I cared about her happiness and I wanted to take the time to cherish and adore her. For the first time in the history of ever, I needed this to mean something. The problem was, I didn’t know if I had it in me to deliver. I didn’t make gentle, sentimental love and as much as I wanted to give her everything she’d ever wanted, I didn’t think I could give her that.

And that’s what had me freaking out.

Pushing those concerns to the back of my mind, I focused on the lovely, soft woman laying beneath me. I nuzzled my face into her neck, the sandpaper of my five o’clock shadow abrading her silky, jasmine-scented skin. I grazed her skin with my teeth, and running my hand up her shirt, palmed her breast through the lace of her bra. I nipped her flesh between my teeth, the sharp sting of my bite and the soft caress of my tongue delivering both pleasure and pain.

Sophie let out a tiny whimper that morphed into a moan of ecstasy and fisted her hand in my hair. She pressed me closer, her silent plea spurring me on. I bit down again and then sucked her marked flesh into my mouth to sooth the ache. Grinding the hardness of my erection against her, I angled my face away to take in my handiwork. My teeth marks were rimmed in red, the creamy whiteness of her skin showing my brand. I smiled in satisfaction and rolled my hips against her, relishing the friction.

“What was …” she whispered on a breathy sigh. My eyes drifted to hers and she swallowed.

“You’re mine.”

“Did you just mark me?” she asked wonderingly, raising her hand to her neck.

“Yes,” I answered, my groin tightening at the idea of marking her all over. Branding her. Claiming her. Making her mine.

But then guilt consumed me. Sophie wasn’t some tart who’d show off my marks while she bragged to her friends about fucking me up against a wall outside a club. Sophie deserved to be treated like a queen … and one did not maul a queen.

I can do this, I thought. Be the gentleman she deserves; hide the beast I truly am.

Sophie peered up at me, the wheels of her mind turning as she continued stroking her collar bone with the pads of her fingers.

“And this … biting … is that a thing you typically do?”

Reluctantly, I scooted away and watched as she tentatively pulled her cardigan around herself and readjusted her position on the sofa.

“Yes, it is,” I answered, running my hand through tousled, tangled locks that were in desperate need of a cut.

I sighed. Neither of us was going to like what came next. “We probably need to talk about that.”

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