Inventing Herself Read Online Free PDF Page B

ignore the distinct feeling that Tony was not the missing something, but just a diversion.

Chapter Four
    ‘Black jeans, blue jeans, no jeans,’ she muttered. Sophie jumped into the black jeans again – doing the jean shimmy-shake. They were just a touch too tight. Too many fancy coffees in the morning, she thought. Not tight enough that she felt ill, but tight enough that she’d be obsessing over them all night. How they hit her right below the belly button, was her ass popping out the back, was it giving her a roll around the middle and so on. She growled, shoved them down to her ankles, and found the blue jeans. She slid into those and turned. These were just a touch too loose.
    ‘Baggy ass,’ she sighed.
    She knew it wasn’t true, that it was simply an illusion, but still it was gnawing on her brain – worry. She thought she shouldn’t be so worried about it if he was her destiny. Her something more.
    The blue jeans hit the bed. She grabbed tan corduroys. ‘Nope.’ They hit the bed. Finally she found a pair of black velvet leggings. They’d go great with her new black leather boots. They’d keep her warm and look sleek.
    Perfect.
    She had just pulled her boots on and checked herself in the mirror – feeling pleased with what she saw – when the doorbell rang. Her body responded in a truly Pavlovian manner. Her pussy went wet and her heartbeat went up. Somehow she had forgotten along the way how very good the fucking had been with Tony. And now, knowing he was on the other side of that door, she was remembering.
    Her insides seemed to be trembling as she reached the door. ‘Stop being a moron, Sophie,’ she hissed, grabbed the doorknob like it was hot, and turned it violently.
    ‘Hi!’ she said, standing there, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She’d put her dark blonde hair in two fat, but fashionably mussed, braids to keep herself from running her hands through her hair a million times the way she did when she was nervous. She tugged the end of one to focus herself.
    ‘Hi, Soph,’ he said. He took a step back and scanned her – his brown eyes twinkling. ‘My God, you look good enough to eat.’
    Heat rushed her cheeks and she toed the carpet with her boot, still not quite knowing what to do with herself. Shouldn’t the talking be easier if he was that missing something? Shouldn’t they fall into a rhythm?
    ‘Thanks. You too, I mean … You know what I mean, Tony. You look good.’
    He reached out and ran his finger along the velvet waistband of her leggings. His skin stroked hers exactly where her white blouse met her black pants. His touch painted fire along her midsection and Sophie heard herself give a startled little gasp.
    ‘Can I come in?’ he asked, breaking the spell.
    If he came in they’d fall into that sex pattern. But then again, she told herself, how do you know if you don’t take the chance? Sophie grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her. ‘Sure, come in.’
    Her ass hit the breakfast bar as he came in fast and fierce for a kiss. His hands gripped her waist, travelled her back, came up to find her hair tamed into braids, so he sucked her tongue roughly – rough enough to send a jittering tingle through her core – and tugged them. Tony deepened the kiss, bullying her mouth with his, and Sophie gleefully surrendered. His cock – hard and long just as she fondly remembered – rode the cleft of her pussy lips. If only they didn’t have so many annoying bits of cloth in the way.
    His hands came up to stroke her breasts and tweak her nipples and she found her breath fleeing her lungs even as heat and moisture pooled readily between her legs.
    God, they were good together – at least this way.
    She pushed the thought away and plunged her fingers into his thick, pale hair. She tugged just a little and Tony grunted, gripping her hips and hoisting her up on the bar so her bottom hit the pale aqua countertop. He stepped in between her legs and worked the