Page 72 of Any Cowboy of Mine
“Where are you taking me, Connors?” Sophie asked. She giggled as she spoke, her breath warm as summer on the nape of his neck. He didn’t even bother to hide his erection at this point.
“To the bridal suite.”
“But I’m not the bride.” Sophie shook with giggles, but still Brad felt like she weighed next to nothing in his arms.
“A small technicality. Jackie’s done with it anyway, and besides, it’d be a shame to let that twin bed go yet another year without seeing any action.” Sophie could barely breathe against his chest, she was laughing so hard. Brad let out a couple small giggles himself, the giddiness of the day—and his time with Sophie—getting to his head in a way alcohol never could.
“You’re not sick of me yet, after this morning?”
Brad stared at her, shocked she could even ask such a question. His body was a never-ending well that could never be filled by her, no matter how many times they made love. Something about her emptied and filled him simultaneously, and it drove him wild.
“Never.”
He got to his bedroom door and opened it. His mother had pulled a magic trick, decorating it so that it was both tasteful and feminine, no hint of the boyhood fantasies that had once resided there. When Brad had agreed to allow Jackie and Steve to have the wedding at the farm—his farm now—he’d worried it would be transformed into a giant heap of cotton candy-colored tulle, but Marge had come through, making Jackie’s colors of pink and beige seem endemic to the otherwise hyper-masculine farm.
His bed was littered with pastel pink rose petals, and the bouquets of gardenias and peonies on the dresser gave off a floral scent that made Brad forget all about the sweat-filled teenage cave he’d made this room into two decades previous. In the corner of the room was a branch from his mother’s plumeria tree she’d cut and planted for him and Sophie as a house-warming gift. Though it hadn’t flowered yet, it added to the overall feel of being in a tropical garden when he walked in the room. How funny that some flowers and plants could transform a space so completely.
Setting Sophie down on the edge of the mattress sobered both of them up, but a sultry half-smile remained etched on Sophie’s face. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders, determined to get the dress—beautiful as it was—off of his love so he could enjoy more of her. She shook her head no, staring up at him through lashes thick with lust and mascara. Amused, he stepped back and watched as she stood and unzipped the side of her dress, letting it fall to her feet in one fluid motion. He groaned with wanton appreciation.
All that remained between him and a good night was a nude lace bra and cheeky panties that led to matching garter straps and transparent hose that went up to Sophie’s thighs. Brad moaned, desperate to touch the exposed flesh she flaunted at him. He tried for a second time to take a step towards her, an arm outstretched to help her out of what remained, but was refused again.
There was barely anything left to the imagination, but Brad was hooked like a salmon in summer. He barely dared to blink in case he missed a fraction of Sophie’s intimate undressing.
Sophie unclasped her bra, which to Brad’s delight was held together in the front. It fell away, and her two perfect breasts sprang free, her nipples hard. Brad could barely contain himself when she cupped them in her palms and squeezed.
Next, she deliberately undid each clasp to her garters until all four were loose. When she bent at the waist to slide her pantyhose off, her breasts hung down, bouncing slightly with each subtle movement she made. Brad licked his lips with overwhelming desire as he watched her hands trail down her smooth, tanned legs. He so badly wanted to be those hands, touching her, letting his fingers explore, but he stood there, a gentleman-in-waiting, mesmerized. His hard cock ached against his slacks. He wanted to strip himself bare for her, but was afraid to move and break the spell she had him under.
When she stood back up, her hair draped over her shoulders, the loose curls soft and inviting and barely covering the top of her breasts. Without taking her eyes from his, Sophie removed her panties slowly, letting her thumbs linger along her slit, rubbing herself and letting out a barely audible gasp.
Brad was more and more turned on with each move she made, but still, she did not invite him to join—and he wouldn’t go to her until she did. Instead, he watched as she finally slipped her panties off and stood there, naked before him, wearing nothing but nude pumps.
He almost came right there.
Sophie laid back on the bed, her taut stomach and toned legs making a “Y” around a perfectly trimmed entrance to her sex. One hand trailed across each breast, then down the center of her stomach, until she got to the base of the Y. There, Brad watched with his mouth slightly agape as she slid one finger in and out, in and out. She was as wet as he was hard, and when she finally nodded, signaling he was invited to join her, he wasted no time in going to her.
Still fully clothed, Brad dropped to his knees in front of Sophie and moved her hands out of the way. He held tight to them as he put his mouth on the center of her pleasure. He twisted his tongue inside her, felt her tense underneath him, driving him to move faster, thrusting his tongue and suckling at her at the same time. He splayed his hands over her firm breasts, releasing her fingers from his grip.
Sophie wasted no time wrapping them in his blond curls, tugging at him, wordlessly begging him for more, for everything. He would make sure she had it, too. She groaned and writhed, but he didn’t let up until her breath came in short gasps and her body convulsed with pleasure. Her walls tightened around him and though he’d made her come, he was so far from giving her the world she deserved. The only reason he released her and didn’t strip on the spot and make love to her was because he had plans for today, and the bridal suite was only the beginning.
Sophie went limp as Brad slid up on the bed beside her, trailing his fingers and lips up her body, following the path she’d laid out for him not moments earlier, only in reverse. She shuddered, her body still recovering from her orgasm, but he didn’t stop until he reached her mouth, where he used his tongue to tease her lips open, explore this particularly sweet cavern of hers that made him hard all over again.
“Make love to me,” she told him, her voice barely a whisper.
“No.” Instead, he teased her right earlobe with his teeth.
“What do you mean, no?” she said, a bit of pique coming back to her face as she sat up.
“I mean,no. Come have some drinks with me downstairs, help me celebrate our friends and their whirlwind relationship that led to them cramping our Valentine’s Day style. Let me look at you the rest of the night and think about you in this outfit—my favorite of yours, by the way—and then tonight, when everyone else is drunk and out of our hair, I’ll finish what we just started.” Brad licked the underside of Sophie’s breast until he got to her hardened peak, which he took fully inside his mouth and gave the same treatment as her earlobe. She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky.
Sophie attempted a frown at him. “You’re not playing fair, mister.” He growled and flicked her nipple with his tongue.
“Admit it, it’s a good plan.”
“Fine. But so help me, if you claim you’re too tired, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I’ll never be too tired for you, Sophie. Never.” He nuzzled into her hair, inhaling her scent of plumeria, his favorite. She was his past and his future in one perfectly composed package.
“You should write romance novels, Connors. You’ve got the sappy stuff down.” She giggled, and he pretended to be offended.
