Trust (48 page)

She bit his lip, sucked at it, and moved to kiss his jaw, searching for his earlobe. She nipped it and then rimmed his ear. He moaned.

“My turn,” she whispered in his ear. And ran her tongue on his neck and shoulder.

“My pleasure,” he replied, huskily.

She caged his face with both her hands and raised her face to give him a naughty smile. “Yes,” she breathed, “your pleasure.” And glided down his body, letting him feel her soft skin. She kissed his chest and then a nipple, playfully biting it. He groaned. She circled it with her tongue and did the same with the other.

“More. Bite,” he demanded.

“What?”

His fingers tangled in her hair and placed her mouth on his nipple, commanding, “Bite.”

She nipped it.

He groaned and demanded again, “Harder.”

Sophia bit him and he moaned out loud. She repeated it on the other. He grunted. Her hands caressed his ribs and chest as she lavished his abs with kisses.

“You have a wonderful body. A classical sculpture,” her voice was reverential. Her tongue circled his navel and dipped in, his breath hitched. She knelt between his thighs. Her hands continued trailing down him and she sat on her heels. He watched her as her eyes flamed. She twirled her hair and threw it over a shoulder. Then she licked her lips and rested her hands lightly on his hips.

He tensed and fisted his hands.
Oh, yes, please
. Without taking her eyes off him, she lowered her body. Her lips parted and hovered just a breath away from his strained erection. Her tongue darted and licked the head.

“Aye!” he shouted, “yes!” and pushed on his elbows to have a better view of the goddess tormenting him.

She moved closer on her knees and his legs widened to make room for her. She grinned and gripped the base of his cock.

This must be the sweetest torture on earth
.

Sophia opened her lips and engulfed him deep. She took no prisoners.

He threw his head back with a roar, his neck stretched. He struggled not to thrust into her mouth. One of her hands tightly stroked the base of his cock and the other rolled his balls softly. She worked him leisurely, lost in the power of pleasing him. Her tongue circled and her mouth sucked, nonstop. He groaned, unable to do more. His eyes were glued on the seductress in front of him. She increased her tempo.
Aphrodite
.

She moaned and that undid him. Before he lost control in her mouth, he pulled her away, up on the bed beside him, and rolled over her body, kissing her. He stretched his arm and snatched his wallet from the bedside table, his fingers groping for a condom. His brow furrowed when he didn’t find one. He broke the kiss to better search and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

No more condoms
. “Fuck!” The expletive shot out of his mouth before he could think.

“What is it?” She startled.

“Condom.” He looked at her. “Do you have one?”

She froze, staring at his eyes, “I’ve never bought-” She bit her lip.

He sensed her withdrawing and knew in that moment he would make her come, no matter what.

He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and gripped her thighs, pulling her down in his direction. He felt her tensing.

“Relax,” he demanded in a deep, low voice, putting her legs on his shoulders, “and enjoy it.” He kissed her inner thigh and felt her muscles contract. When his tongue traced a light path toward her clitoris, she pushed up to a seated position and fisted his hair.

His answering chuckle was filled with masculine satisfaction as he buried his mouth between her thighs with unrestrained enthusiasm. He looked at her, but did not stop. Her eyes became hooded, her lips parted, her breath hitched, and her face grew rosier. He grinned-eyes glued to hers-as she watched him lap her up.

She almost choked as a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body. She threw her head back, arching her breasts up in the air, panting. He fondled them, his thumbs pressing and pulling the nipples as she let out a strangled moan. He lowered her back onto the bed, his hand between her breasts, and latched his mouth greedily to her. He kissed and licked her as if his life depended on it. Her smooth, bare skin felt wondrous under his mouth and tongue. He’d never tasted such soft skin. His tongue entered her deep, feasting on her. She whispered his name and bowed her back.

Her shaking legs, her uneven breathing, and her increasingly loud moans were all music to him. His tongue left her depths and concentrated on her clitoris again, bringing his fingers to play, staring at her.

The moment the first finger sank into her, he heard a fractured soft scream. She called his name, begging for release, her head trashing on the bed. Her core hugged his finger so tight, he thought she was going to come.

“You’re going to kill me,” she cried.

“Relax.” He lapped softly at her, slowing the rhythm. He withdrew his finger and heard her relieved breath. With no mercy, he plunged two fingers into her, diving in and out, as he sucked her clitoris. She cried out, her hands shaking in his hair.

Alistair was about to explode, driven by the pleasure he was giving and by the power his caresses had over her. His shaft was so engorged it hurt; he moaned in her folds, half in pain, half in pleasure.

“Sophia,” he panted on her folds, “I’m going to come on your rug.”

“Who. Cares.” She panted and tugged him by the hair, “Just don’t stop.”

He gave a half pained laugh and latched his mouth on her again, ravenous, making pressure, suckling and licking, his fingers curling to touch her upper wall, and stroking his straining erection. She tensed under his mouth.

She rocked her hips to him, her fingers tangling and untangling on his hair, “Alistair, please.”

His mouth and fingers tormented her, unhurriedly. He moaned. He was also close.

“Oh. I’m…” This time she sobbed, “Alistair, I’m…”

He growled against her soft folds as he felt her passage spasm and contract around his fingers.

She gasped, “I’m close.” Her throat worked convulsively, and like a band, she snapped, crying his name loudly, her legs trembling around his shoulder and neck.

Sophia came, all sensation. Her pleasure was all consuming and burning.

Alistair felt a shock run through his whole body, shaking him with violence and he shouted her name, coming so hard
his
legs were trembling now. He rested his head on her inner thigh, recovering his breath.
Man! This was good
. A deep, satisfied feeling came over him. “Sophia?” He stroked her thigh. She didn’t answer and he raised his head. Her eyes were closed.

“Sophia, you okay?” He lowered her legs from his shoulders and sat with her in his arms, stupefied at her reaction.

She smiled lazily at him, through hooded eyes, “Yeah,” she whispered. “It was,” Alistair heard an amused tone in her throaty voice, “not bad, not bad at all.”

He chuckled and held her tightly while her breathing returned to normal.

Chapter 21

8.57 p.m.

She pushed up on her elbow to kiss him, before jumping off the bed. “Time for a shower. Care to join me?” she asked with a sassy smile.

Alistair watched with rapt attention as Sophia rose naked from the bed. With her long raven hair and gently swaying hips, she was temptation incarnate. It took everything he had to maintain his casual appearance when the dark and animalistic side of him longed to leap the distance between them and devour her senseless.

Will I ever get enough of her?
He wanted her just as badly as if he hadn’t just come a short while ago.
Twice
. He couldn’t help but imagine how she would react if he were his usual self.
Christ! The woman has the kind of energy I like. I have to buy more condoms!

“Are you coming?” she asked again.

He shook his head, “Too much of a temptation and no condom, no sex.”

“Oh. The goddamn condom…”
Sophia, you shouldn’t
. But the words were out of her mouth before her mind could finish admonishing herself. “I’m clean and on birth-”

“Sorry,” he shook his head, sternly. “Don’t take this personally, Sophia. It’s a rule I don’t break. If you mind the condoms so much, we can go see John Walter,
together
,” he stressed the word, “have new STD exams done, and check the validity of whatever you use as birth control.” Distrust and wariness showed on his face. “
I
am clean, but I don’t know about you.”

Her face fell and she looked at him openmouthed for a few moments.

An awkward silence filled the room.

“All right, then,” she whispered and turned toward the bathroom. Then a smile brightened her face and retracing her footsteps, her hand stretched out to pick up her iPhone. “See you in a few minutes. You can use the other bathroom. It’s ready for you,” she said, heading to her bathroom.

“You shower with a gadget, too?” he asked, amused.

“Why not? You don’t want to come.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder, looked back at him and wiggled her brows, waving her cell phone, “I’m going to find someone who wants to Skype and shower with me.” And giggling, sauntered to the bathroom.

“
Skype and shower,
oh, man!” He rose from the bed and started collecting his clothes. He paused at the foot of the bed and grimaced at the mess he had made on Sophia’s rug.
I have to take care of this first
.

He took a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his waist. He knocked on Sophia’s bathroom door and heard her talking and chuckling inside.
Surely she joked about sharing showers with others
.

She exclaimed Edward’s name and gave a sexy, throaty laugh. Immediately, jealousy and betrayal raised their ugly heads in his mind.

Davidoff! He’s an interesting man. Perhaps, Sophia- No, surely not
.

No. She isn’t Heather
.

Heather’s dead!

This is Sophia
.

Sophia!

He shook his head and knocked again. The door opened to reveal a smiling, trusting Sophia.

Naked, very naked
. Alistair cursed his scruples.

“Yes? Changed your mind?”

“No.” He glanced around searching for her iPhone. “Are you busy?”

“Busy?” she asked confused, examining his scowl. “No, not yet.”

“I need something to clean your rug. You know.”

She seized him by the arm, yanking him inside with force. He stumbled into the bathroom. “I don’t need a house cleaner. We can do that later. Don’t be chicken,” she laughed, “Get in the shower with me.”

Fuck
. “Sophia,” he cleared his throat, “don’t tempt me.”

“Too late.” She turned the lock and took out the key, waving it away from him. “Oh, come on, it’s just water. Are you afraid of water?”

“I’m unable to resist.” He captured her in his arms and spoke on her lips, “It’s not the water that frightens me, Beauty. It’s the siren in it.”

“Um, a poet. I like it.” She gave him a peck on the lips, “All right.” She opened the door, sighing. “Enjoy your shower, alone,” she pivoted on herself, grinning wolfishly, “because next time I won’t allow it.”

9.27 p.m.

Sophia came out of the dressing room wearing a green-and-blue wrap dress, no shoes, and her hair piled up in a bun secured with a Japanese hair stick.

Alistair had already showered and was wearing his gray jeans.

She found him on his knees, a brush in his hand, cleaning her rug. His black hair, still damp from the shower, fell around his face and the muscles on his arms and back rose with his movements.

She coughed and had to turn not to laugh at the scene.

“What’s so funny?” He asked from the floor, stopping to stare at her.

“You.” She said with her back turned. “I never thought I would have a pagan god cleaning my rug.” She spun to watch him with an endearing look on her face, kneeling by him. “You don’t have to do this. By the way, where did you find the brush?”

“Of course I have to do this. I made the mess-”

“
We
made the mess together,” she interrupted him, with a kiss, “we clean it together, got it?” She took the brush from his hand and entered his bathroom. She left the brush on the double sink, washing her hands as he washed his.

“Come. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” She waited for him to put his cardigan and loafers on. “You didn’t answer me; where did you find the brush?”

“I have superpowers,” he said, winking at her.

“I can believe that,” she grinned at him, enchanted. “Let’s see if your powers can help me with dinner.”

They walked hand in hand to the kitchen.

“So, what can I do?” Alistair asked, looking around.

“Do you remember where the cellar is?” she looked up from the refrigerator.

“Aye,” he nodded.

“You can choose a bottle of red wine for us.”

“Which one do you want?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” she thought while taking a box of Italian pasta from the cupboard, “do you prefer Italian or French?”

He laughed, “Both.”

“Great. Choose a French one for us, please. They’re on the left-hand side.”

A few minutes later, Alistair returned without the wine, a weird look on his face.

“You didn’t find anything you liked?” Sophia looked up from the board where she was cutting fresh artichoke hearts.

He shook his head, “No, that’s not it. I couldn’t. I think it’s better if you chose the wine.”

“All right,” Sophia finished the artichokes and wiped her hands on a towel. “Don’t touch anything.” She thought for a moment and stretched her hand, “Better, come with me. We’re going to choose the wine together.”

He backed away, “No, I would rather wait here.”

Sophia stared at him, “Alistair Connor.”

He smiled at the way she spoke his name, scolding him.

“What’s the matter? I want you to come with me,” she stated her will firmly and motioned with her hand. “Please,” the last word just a sweetened sauce to the command.

He sighed, took her hand in his, and walked beside her. Looking down at her cleavage and the way the dress hugged her curves, he murmured, “Beautiful dress.”

Naïvely, she answered, “Oh, I love Diane de Furstenberg’s dresses. They’re so elegant and comfortable.”