Trillion(43)
“One question at a time, Tom Brokaw …”
“Just answer.”
Dragging in a breath, she says, “What makes me tick? Sunny days. Wandering the public library on a lazy Saturday morning before grabbing a coffee on my way home. The scent of warm laundry. My sister’s smile, my mother’s hugs …”
They say the best things in life are free. Clearly Sophie’s mastered that mantra. Perhaps I went about it all wrong, dumping millions of dollars into her lap when all she wanted was a basket of dryer-fresh towels on a sunny day with a side of coffee.
“What gets me going every morning?” she continues. “My alarm and my intense, irrational fear of being late for work. And why did I finally agree to marry you?”
She rolls to her side to face me.
“Because someone once told me that life is fucking short,” Sophie feeds me my own line and accents it with a slow wink that tells me tonight’s champagne is still making its rounds through her veins. “And he was right.”
“Smart man,” I say. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Does it matter? I said yes …” She sits up, gathering her hair at the nape of her neck before letting it go. The strap of her dress falls down one shoulder. “It’s warm in here. Do you think it’s warm?”
Sliding off the bed, she tiptoes across the room and adjusts the thermostat before returning to my side. The air kicks on with a steady hum, chilling the air around us.
“Sophie.” There’s an edge in my voice. I need to get her back on track. “Why did you really agree to marry me?”
She’s quiet at first, picking at a fingernail before sliding her hands beneath her thighs.
“Because you’re not what I thought you were,” she finally answers. “And because I can put a lot of good into this world with that kind of money. The positives outweighed the negatives.”
“And what were the negatives?” Other than sacrificing some pie-in-the-sky hope of finding the elusive myth of true love, I can think of none.
“The potential for complications.”
“Fortunately for you, I’m as uncomplicated as they come. And everything’s in writing. We’re both protected.”
“I’m not talking about what’s in the contract,” she says. “I’m talking about …” Sophie bites her lip, glancing down, uncharacteristically pensive. “The way you looked at me tonight … you telling me I looked beautiful … the way you touch me, so tender and careful … and your eyes keep drifting to my mouth … You want to kiss me, Trey. And part of me wants to let you because everything feels so easy with you in this moment.”
Then kiss me. I lean in, hand cupping her cheek, but she turns away.
I’ve never been rebuffed.
Ever.
Leaning back, I say, “What’s the worst that could happen? One thing leads to another and we wake up two orgasms richer? I thought I made myself clear, Sophie. I’m not looking to be your boyfriend. I’ve no need to steal your heart. We have an arrangement. And as two consenting adults who are wildly attracted to each other and are about to spend an incredible amount of time together, why should we deny ourselves physical pleasure?”
“You make it sound simple.”
“Because it is.”
She rolls her eyes. “What if it gets messy?”
“What if it doesn’t?”
She doesn’t answer my question, then again it was rhetorical.
“Let’s make a pact,” she says a minute later. “If we do this … and either of us begins to feel something, we speak up—and then we stop before it goes too far.”
I used to think I was the king of noncommittal, but Sophie has officially dethroned me.
“I’m one hundred percent on board with that,” I assure her. “You’re clearly allergic to feelings and I don’t have time for them. Rest assured we’re on the same page.”
Her posture loosens and her shoulders fall as she exhales. “Shake on it?”
She extends her right hand, the bathroom light behind me showcasing a teasing glint in her eyes. She’s serious yet she’s deflecting with humor.
Typical.
I slide my hand into hers, and then I pull her into my lap. Gripping her hips, I push her against me. The resistance between us fades as our lips finally meet. She rocks back and forth, her hemline gathered around her waist and her tits pressed against me as our mouths crash into one another. My cock throbs until it aches, and she moans before accepting my tongue.
A moment later, she slides off me, dropping to her knees at the foot of the bed, unfastening my belt followed by my zipper. I lean back as she frees my cock. It fills her hand and she pumps the length before swallowing the tip, tonguing circles down the shaft.
“Holy shit.” I gather her hair in my fist, guiding myself deeper into that fuckable mouth I’ve been staring at for the past six hours.
Intensity builds. I’ve never had issues lasting, but tonight might be an exception.
Taking her hand, I pull her from my cock and guide her on top of me. “I want to taste you.”
Lying back, I position her spread thighs over my face, pushing her panties aside and dragging my tongue against the length of her seam. Gripping her ripe ass in my hands, I devour her arousal with greedy, painted strokes until her legs begin to quake and her breath begins to shorten.