“I can’t take it anymore, Sophie.”
The palpable tension in his body and the strangled sound of his voice made her heart squeeze tight in her chest.
“Then don’t, Tom.”
He made a choked sound.
“Brace yourself.”
Sophie’s eyes went wide at the tautly uttered words. Her mouth hung open but her breath froze in her lungs when he withdrew his cock and plunged back into her again. He held her ass in his big hands and began fucking her with long, thorough strokes. His low, feral grunts of satisfaction and the staccato rhythm of his pelvis smacking against her buttocks filled her ears like a drumbeat of desire.
Gone was his restraint. He had endured while she found pleasure, but now he seemed intent on taking his due.
Sophie gloried in the storm of sensation and emotion that crashed all around her.
His thrusts grew more rapid and forceful, making her groan roughly.
“I told you to stay away from me.”
He firmed his hold on her ass and bent one long leg, resting his foot on the mattress, using the extra leverage to take her harder.
“I . . . don’t . . . want . . . you . . . away,” Sophie muttered between clenched teeth, every word popping out of her mouth at the same moment he smacked against her ass and filled her to capacity with his straining desire.
“Aww, Jesus . . . Sophie.”
She used all of her strength to brace herself, barely keeping herself from pitching over, when he plunged into her and held her to him with a desperate grasp. Her eyes went wide when she felt his cock swell. His howl of release stood in direct opposition to last night, when he’d restrained himself so carefully.
Sophie gasped raggedly while he came, her face tight with emotion. His cock was so swollen, so primed that it caused her some mild discomfort when he held her ass and thrust tightly, emptying himself into her. But it gave her more satisfaction than she’d ever experienced, knowing that he’d trusted himself once again to let go.
Knowing that she’d pleased him.
Feeling Thomas throbbing in climax in such an intimate place aroused her all over again. She remained still when he eventually withdrew and leaned over her, breathing heavily. But when he caught his breath and fell to the bed, pulling her down next to him and turning to face her, Sophie pressed her hand between her thighs and winced.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas muttered. He stretched out next to her on the bed and pressed his face to her neck. Sophie whimpered when his hand moved between her thighs, and he worked his magic. It took her all of thirty seconds before she shuddered once again in orgasm. He pressed kisses to her neck and shoulder while she came.
When she’d quieted, he settled his mouth on hers.
“Sophie,” he whispered against her lips a moment later as their stares held.
She inhaled slowly, praying she wasn’t imagining the myriad of messages she read in his eyes.
“My whole life,” he said quietly, “I never had anything that was just mine.”
Her eyes burned. For some reason, she knew exactly what he meant. In a way, they were both orphans: both belonging, and yet knowing deep down that they didn’t belong, recognizing on some level they were extras to a family unit that had been intact and self-sufficient without their presence.
She furrowed her fingers through the thick hair at his nape while her other hand cupped his jaw. She could feel his heart still beating erratically where his chest pressed against her ribs.
She wanted to tell him that she understood . . . that her heart had never been truly owned any more than she’d ever owned another’s, but her throat was suddenly constricted with emotion.
“Shhh,” he soothed softly before he pressed his fingertips and then his mouth against hers in order to still her trembling lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Let’s go take a shower,” Thomas murmured after she’d cried silently in his arms for a minute or two and then quieted. She was glad he didn’t ask her for the reason for her tears. Or at least she was grateful until she realized maybe he didn’t want to hear her answer.
They showered together, talking only minimally, letting their caressing fingertips speak for them. Thomas gently washed the remnants of their lovemaking off her body. She turned away as he attempted to clean her cheeks, but he held her chin with his hand and continued, refusing to be rebuffed, and using a damp washcloth to wipe away the tracks of her tears.
She felt like an idiot when more fell to take their place—why was her chest so full of emotion?—but he didn’t seem to mind, silently washing the fresh tears away with the washcloth and finally drinking them with his wet, warm