Page 29 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

And the worst part?

I’m starting to think I want to jump.

8

ALESSIO

I’m spread out on the leather couch, shirtless, sweatpants riding low on my hips, one arm slung behind my head. Bored out of my mind.

The ceiling fan spins above me, mocking me, slow, steady, smug. Like it knows I haven’t gotten off in days.

I’m cooped up in this apartment like a goddamn prisoner. And the worst part?

My warden is the hottest woman I’ve ever touched. And I can’t stop thinking about doing it again.

My phone buzzes. Again.

I glance at the screen. Another message. Another photo.

The two girls from the other night, their legs tangled, lips parted, their fingers lingering where I should want my face buried. And they're wearing nothing but promises.

They want me back. Want to be used. Ruined. Forgotten.

Or maybe it's the type of lifestyle my money can give them.

I toss the phone aside.

I can’t even get hard for that anymore.

Not when the real problem is walking around this apartment in tiny shorts and no bra, looking like every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had.

Sophie Henderson.

The woman who made me break every rule I had the night we didn’t talk about. And the one who’s now pretending it never happened.

But I remember everything.

How she tasted. How she moaned my name. How her nails dug into my shoulders when she came apart in my arms.

And now I’m stuck. No sex. No release. No escape.

Just me. Her. And the goddamn tension pressing in from every wall of this apartment.

I close my eyes and let my head fall back, the leather of the couch creaking beneath me.

Maybe if I focus hard enough, I can remember what it felt like to have options. Freedom. Control.

I drag a hand down my abs, the tight coil of frustration burning low in my gut. I’m already half-hard thinking of her, and I haven’t even touched myself yet.

I palm myself lazily, gripping my semi-erection.

Sophie.

That damn T-shirt riding up when she reaches for the top shelf, exposing a flash of smooth skin and the soft curve of her lower back, enough to make my fingers twitch and my pulse spike.

The way those shorts hug her ass when she walks away from me like she doesn’t feel the heat radiating off my stare.

My hand moves faster, the fantasy warping.

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