Page 80 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
“Oh, my God,” I moan, flinging one arm over my eyes, barely knowing what to do with myself.
The ice cold against my own heat is driving me crazy.
Then his mouth is on me, lapping away the combination of melted ice and my wetness. I think he’s done with the ice, but he hooks out another cube and puts this one in his mouth. His tongue is cold as it swirls around my clit, building me higher and higher, so I snatch little breaths, curling my fingers in the sheets, my back bowing. I’ve never known pleasure like it. Then he pushes an ice cube inside me as he continues to lick me, and I come with wave after wave of pleasure.
Rocco shoves his shorts down, and his cock springs out to meet me. With the ice now melted inside me, he quickly rolls on a condom and positions himself at my entrance and shafts the head inside.
“God, you feel cold. That’s so fucking incredible.”
“I know, I know.”
My hands find his shoulders, and I wrap my legs around his hips. He fucks me that way, face-to-face, sinking himself deep. We breathe each other in, our mouths crushed together, our bodies as one. Just as I get close again, he pulls out and flips me around so I’m on my hands and knees. As he takes me from behind, his thumb meets with my asshole, and he applies just enough pressure not to penetrate me, but to send sparks of arousal condensing tight within my core. I look over my shoulder, wanting to see his face as he comes. His handsome features tighten, his lips slightly parted. All the muscles in his chest and shoulders are bunched, his gaze focused on my rear end and the view he must have of his cock sliding in and out of me.
I moan at the image, and my orgasm builds again. It hits right as Rocco moans, “Fuck,” signalling him coming. I break, too, my pussy pulsing around him and my climax shuddering through me. I feel his cock jerking inside me, as he groans once more with pleasure.
He leans over my back, his arms wrapping around my waist, and pulls me into him so we spoon while kneeling. He places a kiss on my damp, sweaty shoulder and then nuzzles my nape. My hair is clammy from perspiration and clings to my neck.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of doing that,” he says.
I grin and twist to kiss him. “I hope you never do.”
12
SOPHIA
Iwake early the next morning, not wanting to leave but knowing I have to. Rocco’s still sleeping, his long lashes resting on his cheek, one arm flung over the top of his head. I could happily sit and watch him for hours, but I have a long journey ahead of me and I can’t be late.
I use the adjoining bathroom to freshen up, and quietly pack up my belongings. When I’m ready, I lean over his still-sleeping form and gently kiss his lips.
He stirs at my kiss and, as I’m straightening, he reaches out and catches my arm.
“Hey, you can’t go.”
He tugs me back in, and I laugh. “I have to.”
I struggle against him, though I know we’re only playing.
He buries his head against my stomach. “I think I should shut you in this room and not let you go.”
“Then you’d get me in a whole heap of trouble,” I protest.And I’ll end up very sick.
He releases me. “Okay, okay. Text me when you get back to London, though. Let me know you made it safe. I’m going to be worrying the whole time you’re on the road.”
I lean in and kiss him again. “I’ll be fine, but yes, of course I will.”
“I’ll miss you,” he tells me.
“It’ll only be a couple of days.”
He arches an eyebrow. “So?”
I can’t help laughing again. “You’re right. I’ll miss you, too.”
An hour into the journey, and I’ve only just left Cornwall.
I’m starting to doubt how sensible it was to be making this trip on my own. I know my parents wouldn’t approve, but I need to get back to London and I don’t want to appear incapable in front of Rocco. If I’d told him I wasn’t able to do the drive alone, then he might have started to question just how sickly I am, and I don’t think I could stand that. I love how he sees me as I’d always been—fun-loving Sophia, not the girl with the failed kidneys. But wanting to feel like a normal girl isn’t going to help me get back to London.
The fog of fatigue is already clouding my mind, and I still have hours to go. I have to keep going, however. I can’t risk missing my dialysis session this afternoon. I can feel it’s time for another one. My skin has started to itch, making me antsy, so I shift in the driver’s seat, and my calf muscles twitch, threatening to cramp. I’ll drive another hour and get through Devon, and then I’ll take a break. Yes, that’s how I need to think of it. That I just have a couple of two-hour drives ahead of me, instead of one long one. I pray I won’t hit roadworks or an accident somewhere along the way.
