Page 30 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

Sophie, flushed and breathless, straddling me on this very couch. Her thighs tight around my hips, lips red and swollen from my kisses.

Her head thrown back, hair a mess of wild curls. That little butterfly tattoo on her hip fluttering while she rides every inch of my cock.

Long. Agonizing. Strokes. Her ass bouncing in my lap.

She’s moaning my name, back arching as I thrust into her so deep.

My breath comes faster, a bead of precum at the tip of my cock as I thrust.

The line between memory and fantasy blurs.

Was that night real? Or am I just fucking desperate?

Either way, I’m too far gone to stop now.

I pump harder, imagining the bounce of her tits with every grind, the press of her thighs shaking against my hips as she comes apart again and again.

The little tattoo on her hip stares back at me again. The same tattoo I kissed once and never forgot. It’s burning into my memory all over again.

She’s looking down at me now, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, like she knows she’s got me. Like she’s not just in my head, she’s in my fucking bloodstream.

Fuck me harder, Alessio.

I groan low in my throat, pleasure and frustration crashing together.

If I don’t bury myself in her soon, I might lose my goddamn mind.

Just as I hit the rhythm I need, fist tight, hips arching off the couch, the bathroom door creaks open and she comes out.

“Alessio, I swear, if you leave the sink like a flood zone again—”

Sophie.

She stops. Freezes.

So do I.

Well, not all of me. One very important part of me is still standing proud like a fucking Roman monument.

She catches the full view.

Hand. Cock. Mid-stroke.

Time doesn’t just slow, it slams to a stop.

Every molecule in the room vibrates with shock.

Her eyes widen. Her gaze drops. Her breath hitches.

I should be mortified. I should cover up.

I don’t.

“Jesus Christ!” She whips around so fast her ponytail smacks the doorframe.

I grin like the devil himself. “Hey, don’t blame me. This is what happens when you enforce a no-sex policy and strut around like temptation in tiny shorts. This is a self-inflicted wound,dolcezza.”

“Are you insane? There are laws against this!”

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