Page 37 of Steadfast
“Yessss,” she whispered, her heavy-lidded eyes finding me in the mirror again.
“Yeah? Where.” Sophie whimpered, pushing her ass back to meet me. “I can’t hear you, pretty girl. Where do you want me to touch you?” I dug my fingers into the flesh of her hips. “Here?”
She shook her head clumsily.
I’d had enough of her sweater dress. I tugged and she lifted her arms off the dresser so I could yank that sucker over her head. There was only a little black bra underneath, and I had it off and flung away a few seconds later. There was something nice and dirty about getting her so naked while I was still dressed. In the mirror her tits bounced with every one of my thrusts, and I groaned at the sight of it.
“Touch me.” Her voice was a throaty gasp, and I had to grit my teeth against the urge to come.
“Where?” I grunted. My body was on fire. With one hand I yanked my shirt over my head just so I wouldn’t burn to the ground. But that was a mistake, because now so much of Sophie’s skin touched mine. In the mirror, I could see my body straining against hers.
Fuck.
Sophie grabbed one of my hands and yanked it down her body until my fingers grazed her wet clit. I began to touch her, swirling my fingertips over that swollen bud, dipping down to coat myself in her wetness before teasing her again.
“Harder,” she begged.
“Yes, ma’am.” This sex slave was glad to oblige. I was so hard it hurt. My balls ached for release. I braced one hand on the dresser beside hers and pumped hard into her. The other hand I curved around her sex, my fingers sliding against all that was left of our once golden connection. I could feel the force of my dick hammering home. She had once been all mine, and I’d squandered it.
Bearing down, I reached for the end of my pain. I was approaching the point of no return, and I no longer cared about anything but release.
“Oh,” Sophie sobbed. I felt her shudder beneath me. She sagged against the dresser, moaning.
Someone bellowed, and it must have been me.Jesus fuck. Release roared through me and the room swam with the force of it.
Then we were both bent over the dresser, half ruined and breathing hard. With the last bit of my energy I wrapped an arm around Sophie’s waist and dragged her backward three steps until we both toppled onto the bed. I kicked off my jeans because I was too hot and too sensitive to have anything touching my body.
With a sigh, Sophie rolled onto what used to be her side of the bed, her body curled so that she faced the door. We’d ended up exactly where I hadn’t wanted us to land, slotting ourselves right into position in both my bed and my memory.
But I was too spent to mind very much. I was still coming down from a powerful orgasm—the body’s best natural drug. Endorphins smoothed out my ragged edges, leaving me limp and peaceful. Sophie’s legs were tangled with mine, and without thinking I stroked the arch of her foot with my own. A silent minute passed and then another. Sleep was about to become a real possibility when I saw Sophie’s back contract sharply. I put my hand on it and felt her move again. A jerk. Asob.
She was crying absolutely silently.
Acting on instinct, I hiked my body closer to hers, tucked her hips into my groin and dropped an arm over her waist. It was the classic position for offering comfort. Too bad I’d fucked up both our lives so completely three and a half years ago that I had no meaningful comfort to offer.
Her next sob was not at all silent. It was a raw, primal sound.
And it tore me right in half.
“Shh,” I said, kissing her shoulder. That was all I had for her. A “shh.” Useless.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I shouldn’t have come.”
I couldn’t really disagree. She shouldn’t be here in my room or in my life. Crying was a pretty sane reaction. “I know it’s hard. Some shit is just sad, and there’s nothing you can do.” I felt my own failure in my chest like a knife.
“I’m soangryat you,” she sobbed.
“I know, baby. I deserve it.”
“You refused myletters.”
Shit. I pressed my hand against her back. “Soph, I didn’t throw them out of my cage like an angry monkey, okay? I was detoxing. Cold turkey. And there were all these things I was supposed to take care of—a visitors’ list and forms.” I swept her silky hair off her neck and squeezed the muscles in her shoulder. God, the view of her body lying here was so familiar it ached. But the ache was like a sore muscle after a workout—necessary and not altogether bad. “See, I was busy throwing up for three weeks. I couldn’t take care of business like I was supposed to.”
Sophie seemed to calm down enough to listen to me. She sniffed quietly, and her breathing slowed.
“Nobody really explains anything in there, either,” I said, whispering. “I hadn’t signed for your letters yet, and I wasn’t sure if I should. I didn’t think I deserved anything from you. And when I finally got well enough to ask somebody about them, they said it was too late. And I figured it was just as well. I wasn’t any good for you, anyway.”
I could hear her trying to calm down. She took a deep, slow breath. “But nobodyelsewas good for me either. I spent weeks wondering where you’d gone and what had really happened. Nobody ever answered my questions. And nobody wanted to hear that I was sad. No one will say your name at my house.”
