Page 127 of Return Policy

“Kidding.”

But I’d happily do that with you…

I bring my lips to her ear. “In two minutes, walk down the hallway to our right and go through the last door.”

We untangle, and I wink before heading to the room I just described. It was originally a third bedroom, but Noah and Des opted to set it up as an in-home gym, or as Des prefers to call it—his yoga studio.

Inside, I take a seat on the weight bench and less than thirty seconds later, Sophia comes in with an amused smile on her face before closing the door and turning the lock.

“What are we doing in here, Honey Bee?” she teases, eyes dropping to my already hardened cock before stepping between my legs.

“I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Pushing myself off the bench, I stand to my full height, towering over her. “You brought up sneaking away, and the idea of fucking you senseless right now just made me insane.” I place my hands under her sweater, grip her hips tightly to lift her in the air, and she wraps her legs around me. Stepping forward, I slam her back against the door, which rattles as a breath expels from her lungs.

“Is your sweet pussy wet for me?” I mumble against her ear, and she squirms beneath me.

“Yes,” she pants.

“Good.” I drop her, and the second her feet hit the floor, my hands find the button of her shorts, pushing them off. She undoes my jeans, shoving them and my briefs to my ankles. I smirk down at her, trying to determine my next plan of action. My eyes settle on the bench.

“You wanna be in charge tonight?” I ask, and her eyes flicker dark and hungry.

“Absolutely, yes.”

I lie back on the weight bench, and Sophia’s sweet laugh fills the room.

“What?” I glare at her.

“You’re really not gonna take off the sweater?”

Sitting up, my balls rest against the cool leather, and I make a mental note to clean the bench after. I rip the sweater off over my head, and her smile grows wide. “What about yours?”

“Mine stays on.” A low chuckle escapes me as she throws a leg over my hips, straddling me.

I grab her waist, lowering her against my stomach, and groan, feeling how slick she is for me. “Mmmm,” I hum, bringing my hand between her legs, rubbing my thumb over her clit.

“Do you”—she lets out a soft moan—“have a condom?”

“Baby, I’m always packing.”

She laughs to herself. “Okay, Sandra Bullock.”

I grab the rubber out of my jeans, and Sophia snatches it, making quick work to roll it on. She positions herself over me, swiping my throbbing cock between her before lowering on to it. A deep, quiet moan escapes as her head falls back.

“That’s it, baby,” I praise. “Ride me like you fucking own me.”

She grins, her green eyes smoldering like a forest fire. “Idofucking own you.”

“Yeah, you do.” She rotates her hips, eliciting a breathless groan from me. “Prove it.”

Her grip tightens on my shoulders as she wildly bucks her hips, fucking me absolutely senseless. Every coherent thought is screwed right out of my head. I tighten the grip on her hips while she rides my cock like a damn bull rider. She reaches back, fingernails digging into my thighs, and pumps her hips with hard thrusts.

A loud moan escapes her, and I throw my hand over her mouth as she shatters to pieces before me. Watching her ride through the orgasm—the way her eyes roll into the back of her head, how she palms her own tit, squeezing firmly as she loses all control—has me teetering on the edge. A flash of lightning rips through me, and I explode inside her warm pussy with more force than a sonic boom.

Our panted breathing fills the small room, and a satisfied smile breaks across my face.

“Is that enough proof?” she pants, pressing her hands against my chest, with me softening inside of her.

“I don’t know.” My breath is unsteady. “I think you might have to show me again later.”

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