Her dark eyes lowered and lingered on his crotch.
She’d noticed. Good, he thought grimly. What she’d said earlier today had made him vulnerable. Exposed. Angry. He didn’t feel so worried about protecting Sophie from his volatility at the moment. She’d asked him here. She knew the consequences.
“Why did you come back?” she whispered.
“One guess.”
Her elegant throat convulsed. She remained perched there at the edge of the couch, looking as if she was considering fleeing. But there wasn’t a chance he was letting Sophie Gable go anywhere at the moment.
“Take off your gown,” he demanded hoarsely.
“Thomas . . . you’re angry at me. I don’t think—”
His gaze flew to her face. “Take it off, Sophie.”
She hesitated for a split second before she whisked the filmy garment over her head. Underneath, she wore a pair of those modest, white cotton panties that drove him crazy with lust. He stared at her breasts. His cock strained against his boxer briefs as if it were iron and Sophie a powerful magnet.
He stepped toward her.
“Stand up,” he ordered quietly.
“Maybe we should talk first—”
“I don’t want to talk. Stand up,” he repeated.
She did so slowly as he approached her. He could see their reflections cast in the picture window behind her. He towered over her.
He reached out and cradled her breasts. Blood rushed into his cock. So soft . . . like new flower petals. So responsive, he added to himself as he flicked his thumbs over the rosy tips and she tightened for him. He became completely absorbed in his task as he fondled her, shaping her fulsome flesh to his palms, rubbing and tweaking her nipples until they grew incredibly hard and distended. The storm that held them captive, the inexplicable terror that crouched just outside of his vision, all of that receded.
He lifted her breasts with his hands and let them drop. A pang of lust shot through his cock when he saw them fall back into place with an erotic jiggle.
“I’ve never seen breasts this large and yet so firm,” he muttered, completely enraptured.
“Thomas,” she whispered shakily. He looked up at her face. Her glance seemed to entreat him, but he didn’t want to consider Sophie’s pleas at the moment.
Not unless she begged him to make her come.
“I know what I want right now, Sophie, and it’s not a heart-to-heart talk. If you don’t want to play, just say no, but don’t try and make me feel guilty because I want to fuck you blind.”
He didn’t feel guilty when he saw her lower lip tremble . . . Didn’t feel much of anything, really, except the potent blast of lust rushing through his veins. He molded her firm breasts to his palm and massaged her while he held her stare.
“What’s it going to be, Sophie?”
“If it’s ...” She swallowed. “If that’s what you want,” she finished throatily.
He stared at her magnificent breasts in his hands. “Oh, it’s what I want, all right. Lay down on your back on the couch.” He didn’t like letting go of her soft, warm flesh, but he did when she moved to do what he’d demanded.
He hurried out of the living room and returned a few seconds later carrying the little bottle of lubricant. There wasn’t much left. They’d made quite a dent in their supply over the past few days.
Sophie lay there, still wearing her girl-next-door panties, watching him with those big, dark eyes that were going to be the death of him. He jerked down his boxer briefs and matter-of-factly lubed up his swollen cock.
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck your ass again. Not at the moment,” he rasped. He dropped his heavy erection. “Move farther down on the couch.”
He waited while she scooted away from the pillows and armrest. He straddled her chest with one leg, pressing his knee into the couch next to her ribs. His other leg wouldn’t fit on the narrow couch. He bent his leg and kept his foot on the floor, leaning over Sophie and placing both his hands on the armrest.
“Squeeze them together. I want to fuck those beautiful breasts.”