Page 152 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“I need to touch you, Sophie.” My voice comes out wrecked, barely holding together. “I need to feel⁠—”

She sits up and pulls the shirt over her head. Then she reaches behind her back, unclasps her bra, and lets it fall.

My mind goes blank. Her breasts full and round and perfect, her nipples hard from the cold, and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only look at her.

“Max,” she whispers.

I lower my mouth to her breast and take her nipple between my lips, and the sound she makes—a sharp, broken cry, her back arching off the couch, her hands flying into my hair—goes straight through me. I cup her other breast in my palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness, and she’s trembling under my hands and pulling me closer.

I hold her eyes and move my hand down slowly, watching her face the entire time. My fingers find her underwear, and I press gently, feeling the outline of her and the heat radiating through the thin material.

“Fuck.” The word leaves me before I can stop it. “Sophie. You’re so wet.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it—” she starts.

“Sophie,” I whisper as I press my fingers against her more firmly through the fabric and her eyes flutter. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

I find her clit through the material and circle slowly, and she moans, and it hits me straight in the chest. I keep my eyes on her face.

“You like that, little one?” I murmur against her lips.

Her eyes close and her head drops back. Her hips push forward against my hand and I keep moving my fingers in steady circles, feeling her getting wetter. Her breathing is ragged. Her nails are digging into my shoulders.

“Max—” My name comes out fractured. “I’m—please⁠—”

I move the fabric aside.

Slowly, watching her face as I do it—the flush spreading down her throat and the way her lips part. When I finally touch her, skin to skin, she gasps like her body has been waiting for this.

She’s impossibly soft. Slick and warm and perfect against my fingers.

I slide one finger inside her and kiss her when her mouth opens on a moan. She’s so responsive. Her whole body shudders around me and I curl my finger and press, and her nails rake down my back hard enough to leave marks. Her hips push forward and she bites down on her lip like she’s trying to stay quiet.

“Don’t,” I say. “Look at me, Sophie. I want to hear you. I want to see you. Every part of you.”

Her breath leaves her in a rush. Her head falls back against the cushion.

I keep my finger moving inside her, curling against the spot that makes her whole body tighten, and then I press my thumb against her clit and her back arches off the couch.

“Oh God—Max—” Her voice breaks on my name, her thighs trembling around my hand.

I watch her stop holding herself so tightly as she gives herself over to the sensation.

“That’s it, little one,” I say. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

She does.

The sound she makes when she comes is one I’ll hear for the rest of my life. Her whole body shudders and her face presses into my shoulder. I hold her through it, one arm around her waist, keeping her steady.

After, she doesn’t move. Her breathing slowly settles. I keep my arm around her and let the silence hold.

When she finally lifts her head, her eyes are wet, and she looks at me like I’ve just given her something she didn’t know she was allowed to have.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she whispers.

My throat closes. Tears track down her cheeks, and she doesn’t even seem to notice. And suddenly I understand. She isn’t crying because it felt good. She’s crying because she didn’t know it could feel safe.

I wipe the tears away with my thumb.