Free Inventing Herself by Sommer Marsden Page B

his body, watched the suds roll off and the water drop from his skin. Sophie sank to her knees, her hands smoothing along his hard thighs. His eyes opened but he said nothing, just watched her. He touched her wet hair, pushed it back off her brow, keeping his gaze on her as she leant in to lick beads of water from his cockhead.
    Blowjobs weren’t as enticing to her as they were to some women. She needed to feel a real connection with a guy, an enticing something , to take him in her mouth. It was, in a way, to Sophie, more intimate than sex. Doing this twice in one day surprised even her.
    She felt his fingers delve into her hair, tugging just a touch as her lips slid down his shaft. He made a noise. A humble noise, she thought. The sound of it tugged at that thing in her chest.
    Your heart … she thought. But then shook it off.
    Sophie dragged her tongue along his shaft, savouring his skin. It tasted of soap and salt and warmth. The scent of him invaded her head and she thought how good he smelled. Not just clean, but … good. Under all the other scents on his skin, the smell of Tate was intoxicating.
    She cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to prompt a reaction from him, then her fingers played over the firm terrain of his taint. There was that sound again, issuing from his throat, half sigh, half groan.
    It made her wet to hear that sound erupt from him.
    ‘You’re killing me, Sophie.’
    ‘Not quite.’
    She dragged the tip of her tongue over the crown of his cock, licking swiftly over the indentation where a sweet drop of precome lived. She sucked hard at the tip and then dragged her parted lips down the side of his shaft.
    He lost his patience, his manners fled, and that was when she truly got wet. His fingers curled more tightly into her hair and he thrust into her willing mouth, a growl flying off his lips.
    It startled her. It turned her on. She shifted at the fresh wetness between her thighs that had nothing to do with the pounding of the shower.
    Sophie sucked in a breath through her nose, tried her best to relax her throat, took him as deeply as she could and felt the tip of his cock brush the back of her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes – partly due to how deep he’d gone, partly something else.
    Her hands drifted between her legs and she hesitantly touched her clit. Pleasure coursed through her, flooding her pelvis, warming her cunt. It was almost frightening how this was getting to her – how aroused she was.
    She stroked his shaft with one hand as she played her tongue over the head of his cock. Her free hand cupped her breast, squeezed, pinched her nipple until she found herself sighing around him.
    ‘Out, out, out,’ he whispered, moving so she was forced to move.
    She looked up at him, slightly stunned and confused. Her lips felt puffy and plump from sucking him. ‘What?’
    He smiled down at her, tugging her wrist so she stood. ‘I want you again. And as good as this is,’ he said, above the pounding water, ‘I don’t want you in the shower.’
    She cocked her head and smiled, water dripping in her eyes.
    ‘Shower sex is overrated.’ He grinned. ‘Too much water makes stuff dry.’
    She laughed. ‘That wasn’t sex.’
    ‘That’s the other thing. I want it to be sex. All that fun stuff can come …’ He shook his head and cut the water, tugging her wrist again. She followed him and climbed out of the tub.
    ‘What?’
    ‘It can come later.’ His blue eyes were unreadable and she let that go. His smile pierced her heart. ‘If you choose to see me after I come back.’
    So he knew. Knew her odd mix of doubt and guilt and insecurity.
    She didn’t let herself focus on it. ‘So … OK, fucking. Fucking it is,’ she said, and shot past him to jump on her bed.
    He followed suit. ‘You weren’t too hard to convince.’
    ‘I want to make the most of this day. Does that make sense?’
    Tate covered Sophie with his body and kissed her. His lips were seeking and warm. ‘It