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She moans low in her throat, her breath stuttering as she fucks herself for me, her soaked panties pushed aside and clinging to her hips.

My cock jerks in her grip, thick and desperate, veins pulsing under her touch.

“Jesus, Soph.” I watch her finger herself while her hand tightens around me. “You’re so fucking wet.”

She hums, her smile wicked. “For you.”

My jaw clenches.

“Enough,” I growl, my control unraveling with every stroke. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

Without a word, she reaches for the condom beneath her and rips it open with her teeth. She rolls it down my cock with practiced precision, her fingertips dragging just long enough to make me twitch.

I grip her hips and spin her around, pressing her to the wall, yanking her panties down to her thighs.

“Don’t move.” I line myself up behind her.

She braces against the wall, her back arched, ass jutting out for me like a perfect invitation.

Her head turns just enough for her to smirk over her shoulder.

“Ready?” I ask, voice low and dangerous.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

I thrust into her in one hard stroke, burying myself balls-deep in her dripping pussy.

She gasps, a raw, broken sound as her body clenches around me.

I grip her hips and slam into her again and again, the sound of her ass slapping against my thighs echoing off the walls.

She’s tight and hot and soaked, taking me like she was made for it.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” I groan, driving into her with punishing force. “So fucking tight. So greedy for my cock.”

Her fingers claw at the wall as she pushes back onto me, meeting every thrust. “Harder. Don’t hold back.”

I don’t. I grab her hair, yank her head back, and fuck her harder, ruthless, deep, relentless.

She cries out, moaning my name.

She catches herself and quickly covers her mouth with her palm.

Her body trembles as I piston into her, hips snapping with urgency.

Her walls flutter around me, tightening with each stroke.

“Alessio…fuck…I’m going to come…”

“Not yet.” I pull her back against me, wrapping an arm around her chest, slamming into her so deep she shudders. “You’ll come when I say.”

But her body has a mind of its own.

She’s unraveling, whimpering, shaking, her fingers scraping at the wall for something to hold onto.

Her breath turns ragged, broken, each gasp punctuated by a sharp cry as her climax starts to crest.

I feel it in the way she grips me tighter, her pussy clenching around my cock like a vise, slick and greedy, drawing me deeper with every thrust.

“God, Alessio, please…” she chokes out into her palm, voice raw and wrecked.

Her thighs tremble. Her back arches against me.

She’s right on the edge, teetering, held there by nothing but my rhythm and the pressure building between us.

Her entire body tenses.

Then she snaps.

She lets out a strangled cry as she comes hard, her pussy spasming around my cock, soaking me with a fresh wave of heat.

Her orgasm crashes through her, her body jerking as I keep thrusting through it, feeding her more.

I groan, barely hanging on, her moans dissolving into breathless, helpless whimpers.

She whimpers, her body teetering on the edge, strung tight.

I’m about to release…

She suddenly slips from my grip, panting, legs shaking. Her hand moves between us, fingers curling around my cock, still slick and throbbing...

“What the fuck…” I rasp, stunned, as she pulls the condom off my cock.

But she’s not done.

Her hand wraps around me, slick and sure, and she starts stroking, fast and hard.

I hiss through my teeth, hips jerking as she pumps me with ruthless precision.

Her fingers twist at the head, dragging my release to the edge with a tight grip that leaves me gasping.

“You were so close,” she purrs, lips brushing my ear. “Let me finish you off.”

“Fuck…Sophie…”

I brace myself against the wall behind her, knees nearly buckling.

My cock throbs in her grip, every nerve lit up, balls tightening as the orgasm barrels through me.

“Come for me, Alessio.”

And I do.

With a ragged groan, I explode in her hand, thick, hot spurts shooting out, coating her fingers, her wrist, splattering across the change room mirror and wall.

The first pulse hits with a violent jolt, and she keeps stroking through it, milking every drop with wicked glee, watching me unravel in front of her like she owns me.

And fuck if maybe she doesn’t.

“Jesus Christ,” I growl, breath hitching, body shuddering as the last of it drips from the tip.

She lets go with a little smirk, lifting her sticky hand and licking one glistening finger clean, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

“You made a mess.” Her voice is sweet, smug, savage.

And before I can speak, she tugs her panties back up, slips into her blazer, and tosses me a wad of tissues.

She adjusts her lipstick like nothing just happened. “I’ll be at the counter. Try not to take too long.”

She disappears with the click of her heels, leaving me wrecked, dripping, and utterly at her mercy in a changing room that smells like sex and sin.

And fuck if I don’t already crave more.

Her laughter echoes off the walls like a taunt.

I shake my head, a slow grin curling across my lips as I start to clean up the mess she made of me.

Sophie Henderson has always been full of surprises.

But this? This is something else entirely.

As I adjust my clothes and try to catch my breath, one thought sticks in my mind. What other wicked, little tricks does she have up her sleeve?

To catch up with her, I step out of the boutique into the kind of night that makes you forget the city ever buzzed.

The air wraps around us like silk, cool and hushed, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

She’s walking beside me, heels clicking lightly, blazer draped over one arm.

My fingers brush hers again. Accidental, deliberate, I don’t even know anymore. And something settles in my chest. Possibility. Like maybe this night could be the start of something that doesn’t come with an expiration date.

We don’t talk much on the drive back, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s loaded.

Her silence feels like she's holding something close, and I’m afraid if I breathe wrong, I’ll lose whatever fragile thing we just built in that changing room.

When we get back to the apartment, she heads straight for the kitchen, and I linger by the door like an idiot, watching her move through the space.

She hums under her breath as she pulls down two glasses, my whiskey already in hand, like she knew I’d want it.

God, I’m in trouble.

I take the glass she offers, but my eyes are on her. Still flushed. Still radiant. Still mine.

For now.

Before I can stop myself, I say, “You ever think that some people just... fit?”

She pauses. “Fit?”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly unsure. “Like… puzzle pieces that don’t make sense until they’re pressed together.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me with those eyes that see more than I want them to.

Finally, she says softly, “And what happens when the edges start to fray?”

I step closer. Close enough to see the little crease between her brows.

“Then I’ll hold on tighter. Because this? It doesn’t feel like a fling anymore, Soph.”

She blinks, and for a second, I think I’ve pushed too far.

But then her lips are on mine.

And I know I’ve already fallen.