Overruled(26)

I cover the mark with my hand, thinking of the pain she must have endured, wanting to somehow absorb it. But at the same time, it’s a part of her—made Sofia into the woman she is today. And there’s not a thing I would change, ’cause she’s f*cking incredible.

My hand slides upward, cupping the warm softness of her breast, feeling the vibration of her heartbeat beneath. The sound of her breath—full and high pitched—spurs me on. Her pulse throbs quickly as I lean in.

She whispers my name, and I don’t think it’s ever sounded quite so damn sweet.

Before I can press my lips to the hollow of her throat, the rattle of keys in the door jars us both. We straighten up, like two teenagers in the beam of a policeman’s flashlight, and dash back to my bedroom. I close the door, both of us chuckling.

With a yawn, I flop down onto the bed, pulling the remaining comforter over me. Sofia watches me for a moment, then drops her own blanket and reaches for her clothes.

“I should get going.”

This is how it works. We screw, we dress, we leave: have a good night, see you at the office.

I glance at the clock showing 3 a.m. “It’s late,” I point out with another yawn. And the steady patter against the window pane registers. “And it’s rainin’. Why don’t you just stay?”

We don’t have set rules—nothing we’ve ever agreed to out loud anyway. We’ve just gone with it, done whatever works, whatever feels good. If we have rules, unspoken ones, there’s a fair chance sleepovers break them.

But I just can’t make myself give a shit.

I rub my face against the cushiony pillow and crack open one eye. Sofia stands there—beautifully bare—holding her bra in her hand. Looking at me.

Debating.

I throw back the covers, revealing the empty space in front of me. “It’s cold out there, warm in here. Don’t overthink, Soph.”

It doesn’t have to mean anything. And Sofia’s soft and smooth—having her to rub against is sure to bring on some sweet dreams.

She drops the bra and crawls in beside me. Her back presses against my chest, her ass cradles my cock, giving me new perspective on the benefits of cuddling.

My hand rests on her hip, the other under my pillow. After shifting around to get comfortable, Sofia whispers, “Did you know when you’re tired, your accent comes out more?”

Her hair tickles my nose, making me sniff. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I . . . like it.”

Just as I’m about to drift off, a pounding thud fills the room, like an unwelcome drummer boy.

Bang, bang, bang. It’s the sound of wood meeting Sheetrock—headboard against wall. Accompanied by a whiny, feminine voice. “Yes, yes, yes!”

I lift my head and yell at the wall. “Hey! Do you mind—some of us are tryin’ to sleep here.”

Jake’s uncaring voice calls back. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to f*ck over here.”

The banging resumes, but thankfully, not the whine of affirmation.

Sofia giggles as I yank the blanket up over our heads, drowning out some of the sound.

“Christ,” I grumble. “I really need to get my own place.”





6

Sofia

At some point before morning, I’m awakened by the steady brush of Stanton’s pelvis against my backside. His large hand slides up my stomach, squeezing my breast then tracing my hardened nipple with the tip of his fingers, in a way that makes my back arch—press into his touch. His teeth scrape my shoulder, and it feels feral and dangerous.

He’s not waiting for permission, but I moan it just the same.

Then those magical fingers are between my legs, sliding and spreading the wetness already there. He takes my hand and presses my own fingers against my clit, rubbing delicate circles.

His voice is gravelly with sleep as he directs, “Keep doin’ that.”

The warmth of his chest disappears from my back, and the bed vibrates with his movement. The sound of ripping foil pierces the otherwise silent air and then he’s back—hot skin pressing, lips blazing a trail up my neck to the sensitive flesh behind my ear.

My breath comes in quick gasps and my fingers press harder, spiking pleasure that tightens my stomach. Stanton’s panting breath tickles my shoulder blade as he grips my knee and lifts my leg.

Yes. This. Now.

Please now.

I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until I feel his chuckle. “We must’ve been havin’ the same dream.”