Page 73 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
“Or here.” I touch my lips to her shoulder while I move my hand up to cup her breast over the top of her bra. Even through the lacy material, I feel her nipple crinkle beneath my touch. I slip the bra strap down and lower my mouth to her breast.
“Or here,” I say, right before I kiss her nipple.
She gasps, her hand reaching for the top of my head, pressing me in. I take that as encouragement and open my mouth, circling the peak with my tongue and then drawing the tightened bud deeper into my mouth. Her tits are small, but the nipples large, and the tip elongates to allow me to suckle it to the roof of my mouth. My cock grows long and hard in my jeans, and I want nothing more than to strip us both of our clothes so I can lose myself inside her.
“Oh, God,” she breathes above me, and I use my hand to massage and pinch her other breast, pulling and tweaking the nipple so it’s as long and hard as the one in my mouth.
I remove my mouth from her tits and kiss her again, and then scoop her up, so her legs hook around my hips and I’m carrying her. She’s so light, so fragile and delicate, though I see the fierce desire in her eyes, and my knowledge of her from our childhood means I’m aware she isn’t fragile in the slightest.
Leaving the living room, I carry her into the bedroom and kick the door shut behind us.
I put her down, her feet hitting the floor, and then I get to work on her jeans, popping open the button and slipping them from her slender hips. She toes off her small ballet-style shoes and throws them to one side. I catch sight of the tattoo I’d done, still wrapped up, and emotions tighten my chest. It feels so right to see something I’ve done permanently marked on her skin.
I can’t express how grateful I am that it was me working instead of Kane.
“Turn around,” I growl. I want to immerse myself in her, to have her fill my every sense, to lose all concept of anything else existing in this world except Sophia Alexander.
I don’t wait for an answer. I twist her around in my arms and bend her slightly so her palms hit the bed. Then I drop to my knees behind her, so my face is in line with her pussy.
“What are you—”she starts, twisting to look over her shoulder at me.
Then her eyes widen as I hook my fingers into the elastic either side of her hips and pull her underwear down her thighs. I edge her feet apart, press my palm against her lower back to bend her over farther still, and then bury my face between her thighs.
I find the seam of her pussy with my tongue and lick her open. She’s smooth, and even though she said there haven’t been many boyfriends since we’ve been apart, she’s clearly taken care of things down here. Has she done it for me? I like to think so.
I push my tongue in deeper, her body going taut beneath my administrations. The sweet, musky taste of her coats my tongue, and my cock grows harder still. I think I might lose it if she keeps making those sweet, sexy little moaning sounds. I grip her bottom with both hands, a cheek in each palm. I don’t care what she says about her not being perfect, she’s perfect to me, and by the way she’s pushing back on my mouth and the noises she’s making, I figure she’s forgotten all about being self-conscious.
8
SOPHIA
Ican’t believe I’m doing this. Bent over Rocco’s bed, with his mouth on me in places no man has touched in a long time. His beard scratches against my most sensitive skin, my head spinning in a way that has nothing to do with my illness for once.
I want to touch him in the same way he’s touching me.
His kisses leave my pussy and trail up my back, along my spine to my neck. I shiver at his touch, and he spins me back around to face him again. Then he’s kissing me, and I can taste myself on his tongue, and it’s hot as hell.
“I want you,” I gasp into his mouth.
Suddenly brazen in a way I never normally am, I reach for the bottom of his t-shirt and draw it up and over his head. It’s all I can do to stop myself groaning at the sight of his body. It’s nothing like the slender, youthful boy he’d once been. Now he’s hard with muscle, and the skin covering that muscle is also covered in tattoos.
I trail my fingers across his skin, drinking in the designs of the tattoos. “I can’t believe this is you,” I murmur.
“I’m the same person I was back then.”
“Just with muscles and tattoos,” I point out.
“Are you complaining?”
I drop my hands to his jeans, to where his erection runs in a considerable line beneath the material. “Not in the slightest.”
His mouth crashes to mine as I tear open his belt and then pop the button and undo the fly. I shove my hand beneath the waistband of his underwear, moving down. Heat and hardness spring up to meet my fingers. God, he’s big. I don’t remember him being this big, but then I hadn’t had much to compare him to back then.
He pushes the jeans and underwear down, kicking them away. His cock is between us now, jutting upward, pointing at my belly. Wanting to give him what he gave me, I drop to my knees and inhale the musk of him. He’s gorgeous. I lick the salty drop of pre-cum from his slit and then circle my tongue around the head of his cock. Above me, he groans, and his hands knot into my hair, fisting my curls. I want to make this good for him, sliding my lips down his length, as deep as I can take him, and then bobbing back again.
His breathing grows ragged above me. “Fuck, Sophia. I’m going to come down your throat if you keep that up.”
I pull off him long enough to look up at him. “I’ll take every drop.”
