Page 168 of Bona Fide

My Sox.

The woman who demanded and took when she wanted, at the exact moment she desired.

Indie gets two buttons to pop off my shirt, struggling while trying to kiss me and keep the moment alive. I don’t stop or help, needing her to do it. Hoping that I can just lose myself in her and just—not. That’s all I want.

Instead, Indie tries my pants, easily getting those undone and down my legs for me to step out of. Lifting her in the air, I navigate us to the bed, dropping her there then removing the rest of my shirt.

Indie patiently waits for me, her eyes peering up at me with lust and fervor in her darkened eyes. A look that should have me rock hard as it has before.

But the more times I see Reagan, the more Indie’s effect starts to dwindle.

My knees on the bed, I crawl over her, yanking her panties down while my boxers are still on.

Red panties.

I could lose my shit right now at how fate loves to fuck with me.

“I haven’t been playing with myself since you’ve ordered me not to,” Indie conveys, biting on her lower lip. “I’m so fucking horny right now.”

Too bad I can’t say the same thing.

“So this is going to be easy, is that what you’re saying?”

“Very.” She arches her back to brush her body along mine. “But I’m expecting more than a few orgasms since we haven’t been together for so long.”

Relax, it’s been like three weeks.

“Commanding tonight,” I vouch, stroking my semi-hard dick. “Isn’t that something.”

Indie draws me closer to her by my shoulders. “Figured I’d keep you on your toes, Mr. President. We want to make sure you don’t get too big of a head.” Her mouth lands on my jaw as she works her way down my throat.

“I’m here to serve.” I offer before her hands push my boxers down.

“Take them off.” She already has her fingertips along the waistline of my boxers, doing it for me. “Will you take me deep and hard?”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” I feel her smile against my skin as I wrap myself up to start the “losing myself in something else” process.

Positioning my body between her legs, hard, deep, and silent is more of the playout that I want to have happen. I just want to fuck and imagine what I need to so I can get off, no matter how pathetic it is that I know my imagination will dream of scenerios of Reagan.

The moment I’m inside her, my pace is automatically erratic and unplanned. Each thrust is a flashback to what and who I had before. I can see her smile, hear the shaky breaths she tried to hold in because she didn’t want to stroke my ego. Just the pleasure of Reagan allowing me to fuck her gave me a fucking big head.

A curvy body underneath me grunts softly and gasps when I’m balls deep. Fingertips roam down my back in a silent command to keep going and give her what she needs.

To love her.

I can’t fall in love with Indie when my heart isn’t together in one piece. I left it in Connecticut, on life support, the fucker could be dead by now for all I know.

“Yes,” Indie mutters, off a sharp gasp. “That feels so good.”

“I miss this,” I whisper into the crook of her neck. “Us.” She doesn’t respond because I thrust harder into her, knocking out her next intake of air. Her dark hair wisps over my stubbled cheek while my lips clasp on to her soft neck.

“Right there.” Her hips rise from the bed, seeking more. “I’m going to come.”

“Yes, baby, all over my cock. Give me everything.” She instantly breaks apart as I continue to propel inside her, the buildup in my balls already there.

“I missed this cock so much. Make me yours.”

“You’re already mine, Reagan.” Then I spill every ounce of frustration into my condom, giving her one last thrust before slowly pulling out of her.

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