I finally give in with a nod. She licks over the head, then circles her tongue. She teases me and from that mischievous look in her eyes, she knows she’s torturing me. I grip her hair in my hand and try to rein myself in.
“I’m going to be rough with you if you keep that up,” I warn her.
She licks all the way to my balls and back. I knot my fingers in her hair, then pull her down. My cock slides between her lips, along her tongue, and into her throat. I groan and my hips flex forward.
Sophia makes a pleased sound and ups the pace before I can even give her an order. She braces herself on my thighs and doesn’t let up. I gasp, but can’t get a word out. Sophia in control of this blowjob is so wild, so beyond pleasure that I don’t have a word for it any language.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
She lets out a muffled moan and goes down as far as she can take me before popping off, her cheeks all pink, her breasts moving with every panting breath. I want to tell her it’s not a race, but she keeps licking and teasing me until I jerk her back down again.
The frantic pace starts again. She knows just what she’s doing to me. Edging me again and again, driving me insane until I hold her down and use her mouth like I need. I thrust down her throat hard and come. My whole body jerks forward with the force and Sophie takes it.
Sophie slowly draws back and wipes under her bottom lip. Her tongue follows the move and she gives me a pleased smile. I pull her onto my lap and kiss her neck, her jaw, her cheek, and finally claim her lips.
She moans against me and strokes through my hair and down my neck. We pant together and she rests her forehead against mine. I laugh. “There is nothing about you that isn’t attractive. Everything you do, no matter how innocent, no matter how simple, turns me on.”
Sophie rubs over my chest. “I love you, amore. So much. I knew it when we were cooking in your grandma’s kitchen. I know it now. I’ve known it moment after moment.”
We both hear Link moan and Sophie hurries to get all her clothes. I watch as she drags her clothes on quickly, but I’m done before she is. I rub her cheeks. “You need to nap too.”
“I still need to do laundry and get a few more things done.”
“At least lay on the couch. Let me do more than cook.” I insist.
“Roman, I’m not useless. I’m pregnant. There’s a difference.”
I kiss her forehead. “I know you’re not useless. But you just took on plenty and I’m not letting you exhaust yourself.”
She sits down and shakes her head at me, but soon enough she has two kids to entertain while I take care of household chores. Diana comes over an hour later and looks between us. “Come on, Soph, time for a doctor’s visit.”
I perk. “You have an appointment?”
“I do.” She tucks her hair back. “But we need someone to stay with the kids and-”
“I’ll stay with them. I love my grandkids,” Diana says. “You two go. Let Roman see them.”
And when the sonogram starts and we can see the babies, healthy, real, right there on the screen, my eyes water. The doctor gives us a moment and I just stare at the picture right there. I cover my mouth.
Sophia takes my hand in hers, but I pull her hand to my heart. “Sophia, they’re ...”
“They’re right there, amore. See them?” She asks with a smile.
“I can’t believe ...”
Link and Cora are mine. I don’t doubt it. I don’t question it. They’re mine as much as they are Holden’s and Gunner’s. But knowing that these two are made from me and Sophie, that they’re biologically mine, that we did this ... it’s powerful.
I wipe at a tear and Sophie sits up, kissing my brow. “Oh, Roman.”
“I can’t wait to see them.” I manage to get out.
Sophia stays close to me the rest of the day. Even if we don’t talk, I feel her nearby. It’s comforting. I feel overwhelmed and ridiculous all at once, but I call my grandmother that night. She hasn’t met the kids, not really, but she’s seen pictures, and even though she coos over them, I’ve seen that expectant and impatient look in her eyes – the one that’s begging for me to continue the line.
As if Massimo isn’t already doing that. My cousin’s son is growing up big and strong and their second son is following right in his mother’s footsteps, sassy, determined, and independent. She answers in Italian and I smile.
“Nona.”
“Roman!”