Explosive (26 page)

After a moment, she bobbed her ass slightly, meeting his down stroke, telling him without words she liked it. It felt decadent, but Thomas seriously had his doubts about whether he could make this work without any additional sex toys to prepare her. She’d never done this before. He burned to take her in this raw, primitive fashion, but he perhaps burned to make it good for Sophie even more.

Besides, he’d grown wary of the animal that grief had turned him into when it came to sex with her. Would he have reacted this way with any woman, given his tumultuous state?

He glanced into Sophie’s face and admitted that he doubted it. What was happening between them was strange, but it was too good to be solely a product of just grief-inspired lust.

But what the hell did he really know, especially now, while his lust and need mounted to record-breaking levels?

He squeezed the ass cheek he held while he finger-fucked her. He spanked her several more times, enjoying the sensation of taut, hot skin beneath his striking palm and the sexy little sounds of arousal Sophie made in her throat. Liking her reaction so well, he withdrew his finger reluctantly from her snug ass and reached for the spatula he’d brought from the kitchen. He felt the tension rise in her when he smoothed the tiny paddle over a cheek.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is made of silicone,” Thomas said as he traced the crack of Sophie’s ass with the edge of the kitchen implement, admiring how the dark red spatula appeared next to her pink bottom.

“It is, I think,” she said in a muffled voice. “I just bought it at that new cooking store that opened up near our offices. I haven’t even had a chance to use it yet.”

Thomas chuckled. “We’ll break it in good for you, honey.”

“Ooh,” she cried out when he popped her ass with the spatula. Thomas paused. He could tell the spatula head was the perfect combination of tensile strength and flexibility for this particular task—the taut cracking sound of skin against silicone had been evidence of that—but he didn’t want to hurt Sophie.

“Too much?” he murmured as he rubbed the buttock where he’d spanked her with the spatula.

“No . . . it . . . it’s okay.”

“You sure?” he asked, studying her profile.

“Yes,” she said, her tone carrying an edge to it. Had it been caused by discomfort or arousal?

Thomas swung back the spatula and swatted her again. Her shaky moan gave him his answer. This was arousing her, all right, although there couldn’t be any way it was turning her on more than it was turning him on.

He began moving the dark red paddle around, sensitizing every square inch of her beautiful ass. When he realized that she was arching her back and sending her ass up higher to greet his spanks he fisted his aching cock.

“Jesus,” he groaned roughly. She was so damn sweet. “I don’t think I can take much more of this, Sophie.”

She turned her head on the pillow and watched him as he stroked his raging erection. “You don’t have to, Thomas.”

He clenched his teeth. “Actually, I do. You’re nowhere near ready to get fucked in the ass,” he stated bluntly. He forced himself to drop his erection. She was nowhere near being ready to be fucked in the ass by
that.

By
him.

He grimaced at the agony of the lack of stimulation on his cock. Restraining Sophie, touching her, feeling her come, spanking her . . . all of it had combined to make him ready to explode at a few strokes.

Sophie lifted her head off the pillow, her eyes on him.

“Try it.”

“Try what
?”
he asked warily.

“Try and put it in my ass.”

For what was probably only two cock-throbbing moments, but what felt like an eternity, he just stared at her.

“You don’t understand, Sophie. It’ll take a lot of patience and control on my part.”

“You can do it, Thomas. I trust you.”

He shut his eyes briefly, finding looking at her honest, lovely face a trial at that moment. He hated himself for it, but even as he tried to deny the allure of her, he was moving.

He shoved his underwear and shorts off his legs. The bedsprings creaked when he crawled onto the mattress. Sweat beaded on his abdomen as he looked at Sophie, naked and restrained before him, her ass blushing from his spankings.

Lust roared through his veins. He reached for the lubricant.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he rasped as he spread the lubricant all over his cock. He didn’t know if he was making the vow to her or himself, but he suspected the latter. “I’ll . . . I’ll wait for another time, when I have something to prepare you better. I’m just going to . . . to ...” He’d lost the ability to speak as blinding need tightened every muscle in his body. He lifted his cock and spread one of Sophie’s ass cheeks. “Put the tip in you. I just want to feel your ass around my cock.”

“I’ll tell you if I want you to stop, Thomas. I want to try it.”

He blinked some sweat out of his eyes as he pushed the tip of his well-lubricated cock to her asshole. Why had she sounded so certain? She didn’t realize how dangerous he was, that he might lose control . . . detonate like a bomb? Her calm trust in him caused a taut friction in his stormy spirit.

Her body tightened, resisting him when he pushed his cock head against her rectum, willing her to open for him.

“You have to press against it, Sophie, ”he said tightly.“ Awww—” He bit off his groan as she did what he requested and his cock head squeezed into her ass. For a few seconds, he just knelt there and panted, praying silently to reestablish a splintering control, the tip of his cock throbbing in Sophie’s ass. It was a cruel challenge. All he could consider was the mindless nirvana that would come from plunging in and out of her hot little hole, fast and furious.

His balls pinched in agony, the semen in them feeling like it was boiling, like it was going to erupt into Sophie’s ass whether he wanted it to or not.

And God, did he want it.

He flexed his hips, sinking into her a quarter of an inch farther. Hot spikes of pleasure rippled through his flesh.

“Sophie?” he asked roughly. She was so silent. He needed to hear her voice.

She turned her chin, trying to look back at him. Tendrils of blonde hair fell on her face, but beneath him he thought he caught a nuance of the tension in her muscles.

“Are you all right?”

The eye that was turned toward him was opened wide, but he didn’t sense any discomfort in her expression.

“It . . . feels strange,” she murmured.

He winced, both at her words and the pleasure of pushing his cock another half-inch into her. She moaned softly and he cursed. The sensation of her ass constricting the top of his cock in an elastic-tight, hot grip sent another convulsion through his flesh.

His control frayed the more he tried to grasp a hold of it. He wasn’t going to last.

“I shouldn’t have tried this without a dildo or a plug,” he grated out as he reached around Sophie’s hips. Burrowing between her labia was like dipping his finger into warmed honey. Her cries of excitement as he stimulated her clit told him she wasn’t far from release. His control snapped at the evidence of her reciprocal desire. His cock twitched and swelled, demanding its due.

But he didn’t move, even as his need made his blood scald his veins.

Even when she cried out and climaxed against his hand.

He grimaced and suppressed a howl a moment later as he came in Sophie’s ass. The entire time both of them climaxed, he fought the urge to plunge deeper; the need feeling like a frantic creature trapped inside of him, demanding release. The struggle against his orgasm caused him to coast on a nearly unbearable razor’s edge between pleasure and pain. He wanted to stroke himself at least, pump the frothing semen until his testicles were utterly spent, but he wanted to hear Sophie’s sharp cries of ecstasy more.

Later, he wondered how he’d endured it.

He withdrew when they’d both quieted. He leaned over her, his still throbbing, overly sensitive cock pressing against her ass. Neither of them spoke as he worked to untie the knots that restrained her.

Thomas barely panted, his orgasm had been so locked down, so restrained.

Sophie turned into his arms when she was unbound. Her breath fell on his chest in soft, irregular bursts of air. His awareness focused on the sensation to the exclusion of all else; it hypnotized him. As she calmed, and her breathing smoothed, his body followed her rhythm. He felt the tension easing out of his muscles.

Maybe he didn’t know Sophie Gable all that well. But he knew a treasure when he held it in his arms. He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and pulled her farther into his embrace.

“I’ve dreamed about you, Sophie.”

She tensed in his arms. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve dreamed about you . . . about making love to you here. About tying you up, in this very bed.”

“They weren’t dreams, Thomas. You
have
made love to me here in this bed. You have tied me to it.”

He chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head again. “That’s not what I meant.” He nuzzled her temple in the silence that followed. “Those dreams . . . it’s like every time I make love to you, I’m trying to bring those dreams to life. Make them real somehow. Make sure
you’re
real.” He gave a bark of laughter. “I really am going nuts, aren’t I?”

He started to get a little concerned when she didn’t respond.

“Sophie?” He brushed a hand over her hip and then an ass cheek. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Of course not,” she murmured. “You held back. You didn’t have to, Thomas.”

He knew what she meant. But he
did
have to restrain himself. After what happened out there in the yard, it’d been an absolute necessity to prove that he could control himself, even in the midst of the most trying, arousing sexual situation he could imagine.

He felt as if he had to relearn his personal limits all over again. Because who knew, really, what this stranger who had overtaken his body was capable of, in the end?

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Sophie murmured sleepily and craned up her lips when they were caressed and molded by a firm, masculine mouth.

“Thomas,” she murmured without opening her eyes. His scent surrounded her; his taste soaked into her sleep-hazed awareness, making her crave more. Her kisses became hungrier as her hands found their way to his shoulders and she molded dense muscles in her palms. She was pleased that he shared in her need. His kisses altered from slow and warm to deep and hot.

He broke away several seconds later.

“If you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to insult Sherm twice in a twenty-four-hour period, this time by not showing up for fishing.”

Sophie sighed in disappointment at the unwelcome intrusion of reality and opened her eyes. They’d turned out the light in the bathroom after they’d cleaned up last night following their lovemaking. The room was swathed in blackness.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she protested groggily.

“No. It’s about fifteen minutes until dawn,” he corrected before he dropped another kiss on her mouth. “I’m going to go shower.” But he didn’t move. Instead he gave her another long, sultry kiss that made Sophie feel like her body was going to melt right into the mattress.

“You really know how to kiss, Thomas Nicasio,” she murmured when he lifted his head awhile later.

“Back at you,” he said gruffly, and then after a pause, “I don’t want to go.”

“You better go,” she said regretfully.

“Okay. But I don’t want to.”

She sensed his small smile rather than saw it. She laughed softly as he turned over and got out of bed. A sadness came over her at the absence of his solid male warmth, but so did a feeling of happiness, for some reason.

“I got the coffee ready for you last night. Just turn it on.”

“Thanks,” he replied in a sleep-roughened voice.

She heard him turn on the shower, but must have fallen asleep again, because she didn’t recall him leaving.

When she awoke, she saw through the window that the cloud cover from last night hadn’t dissipated. She hoped it hadn’t rained on Thomas and Sherm while they fished, although Sherm would be totally enthusiastic if it did, Sophie thought with a smile as she got out of bed. He’d just say the rain would make the fish bite more.

She was still smiling a minute later when she stood at the kitchen sink sipping her coffee and staring out the back window onto the gray morning. Slowly, the weight of what was happening to Thomas—to what was happening to her—settled on her spirit, dampening her mood. What right did she have to feel so warm, to be so cheerful when things were so volatile and uncertain?

What right did she have to be happy about falling in love with a man who was in the midst of a personal crisis, was quite possibly in grave danger, and
certainly
was emotionally unavailable?

She set down her coffee cup heavily on the counter, the realization of what she’d just admitted to herself striking her consciousness like a blow.

Was it even possible? To fall in love with someone in such a short period of time? Not in Sophie’s experience it wasn’t. She’d considered herself to be in love a few other times in her life, but it had always come on more gradually than this. In fact, what she was experiencing with Thomas felt unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

Was it just an infatuation? The result of an unprecedented sexual attraction?

She thought of what she’d said to Andy yesterday when they were speaking on the phone.

You must be having strong feelings, Sophie. It’s not exactly your typical MO with a guy. I can’t help but think it’s telling that you’re going out on a limb like this for Nicasio. Be careful, okay?

Sophie swallowed and stepped away from the counter. Andy was right. It wasn’t her typical MO. Sophie was usually cautious with men, especially at the start of a relationship. She’d been accused of being standoffish often enough that it’d become something she’d come to dread . . . the inevitability of it happening again.

She thought of herself last night, of how she’d responded to Thomas’s volatile, dominant lovemaking. Might as well admit it. She’d been the direct opposite of standoffish. She’d given herself to him without reservation, even in these bizarre circumstances, where caution s
urely
should prevail.