Page 94 of Changing the Playbook
With my ex, this was a chore. Three minutes of jaw ache while he lay there unresponsive, occasionally patting my head with all the enthusiasm of someone petting a sleeping cat, warning me before he was about to come because he found fluidsick.
But Mike?
Every swirl of my tongue earns a reaction.
A hitched breath when I hollow my cheeks. A low groan when I take him deeper. A trembling thigh when I scrape my teeth gently along his length. And, all the while, the vibrator explores his inner thigh and behind his balls while my mouth continues its work.
“Sophie—”
I glance up through my lashes.
The question must be clear because he nods, spreading his legs wider.
Complete, absolute surrender.
My heart threatens to crack my ribs with its pounding. The lube from my nightstand—thank God past-Sophie splurged onthe good stuff—coats my fingers and the toy. With infinite care and probably too much lube, I ease the vibrator inside him.
The sound he makes—raw, desperate, completely uninhibited—is nothing I’ve ever heard from composed, confident Mike Altman. His spine bows off the mattress when I angle the toy, finding that spot I’ve read about but never had the courage to explore.
“Is this?—”
His hand reaches for mine, fingers interlacing. The gesture says everything, so in response, I work the toy inside him while my mouth returns to its task. The coordination required reminds me of learning to drive stick shift, awkward at first, but the rewards…
God, the rewards.
Each broken sound.
Each tremor through his powerful frame.
Each time his fingers tighten in my hair, not demanding but desperate.
Sophie Pearson, sexual revolutionary.
When I take him to the back of my throat while angling the vibrator just right, his entire body goes rigid. Every muscle locks tight, and I know?—
“Sophie, I’m gonna?—”
This is where I always pulled away before. Where I’d finish with my hand while calculating how quickly I could rinse my mouth after. But tonight? With this man who’s shattered every wall I built?
I meet his eyes, trying to communicate what my occupied mouth can’t say. Understanding dawns in his expression, followed by something that looks dangerously close to worship.
His release comes with my name breaking apart on his lips. I stay with him through it all, accepting this most intimate gift. Not because I have to. Not because it’s expected.
Because with Mike, I want everything.
The vulnerability required, the trust shared, it’s not about the physical act. It’s about choosing to be completely present with another person. No walls. No pretense.
As I carefully remove the vibrator and crawl up his body, his arms immediately pull me against him. Both of us breathe in ragged gasps. His heart hammers against my breast.
“Christ,” he says. “Sophie, that was…”
“I know.”
And I do. My body still thrums with the echo of control, of connection.
Raw vulnerability replaces his usual confident expression. “Two firsts.”
“What?”
