Sofia's breath hitched as she relived the memory, her fingers tightening on Roy's thigh.
"You were groping her like your wife didn't exist."
Roy's stomach twisted, his softening cock now completely limp against his thigh. He wanted to argue, to insist it wasn't like that—but the truth was, for those few reckless seconds, it had been.
Sofia exhaled sharply, her hazel eyes glazed with the weight of confession.
"And then Renard… he didn't stop."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Roy's skin, as if grounding herself in the present.
"His hand slid deeper under my suit, fingers pressing where they shouldn't. I gasped—but before I could pull away, he spun me around, backing me against the balcony railing."
Roy's jaw clenched. He could picture it too clearly: Sofia in that sleek black one-piece, the deep scoop of the back exposing the elegant curve of her spine, the fabric clinging to every dip and swell of her body. Her breasts—full enough to spill over a man's grip—rising with each panicked breath, her nipples pebbled against the tight material.
Renard, taller, broader, crowding her against the railing.
"He trapped me there," Sofia continued, her voice trembling. "His body pressed against mine, his cock already hard against my stomach. I tried to push him off, but he just smirked and said, 'You really gonna pretend you don't want this? After what your husband's doing down there?'"
Her fingers dug into Roy's leg.
"And then—fuck—he grabbed my ass with both hands, squeezing like he owned it. My suit was so tight, I could feel every finger, every rough knead. He groaned right in my ear, 'God, this ass… so fucking perfect. Firm but soft. I could spank it raw.' "
Roy's blood ran cold, then hot. The image of Renard's hands on Sofia's perky, lifted backside—those round cheeks that he loved to sink into, that looked even better in that tight black fabric—made him see red.
Sofia shuddered. "I tried to twist free, but he yanked me back, his fingers slipping under the leg hole of my suit. I felt him—his fingertips brushing my pussy, so close—and that's when I panicked. I shoved him hard and bolted for the door."
Roy exhaled, relief flooding him—until Sofia's next words turned his veins to ice.
"But he caught me before I could open it."
Her voice was hollow now, detached.
"He pinned me against the door," Sofia said, her tone distant, almost clinical.
"His breath was hot on my neck. 'You're not leaving like this,' he growled. 'Not when you're this wet.' And then—" She swallowed hard.
"Then he proved it."
Roy's stomach dropped.
Sofia's fingers drifted between her own thighs, like muscle memory pulling her back into the moment. She hesitated, torn over whether to tell him.
"Renard hand slid between my legs, pressing against my suit. And he was right. I was wet. Not for him—never for him—but from seeing you with her. From the anger, the jealousy, the heat of it all."
Roy's cock twitched in betrayal, a treacherous pulse of arousal flashing at the thought of Sofia—flushed, furious, soaked—trapped against that door.
"He felt it," she whispered.
"And he smirked. 'See? You want this just as much as Roy wants Samantha.' Then he hooked his fingers under the front of my suit and pulled."
Her breath hitched.
"The fabric snapped down, my tits spilling free. He grabbed one, squeezed hard, his thumb grinding over my nipple. 'Fuck, they're even better than I thought,' he groaned. 'So full. Perfect for my mouth.'"
Roy's hands clenched into fists at his sides, torn between rage and a sick, shameful hunger.
Sofia's voice dropped lower, darker. "I tried to cover myself, but he caught my wrists, forcing them above my head. Then his other hand slid back between my legs, fingers slipping inside my suit. I felt him—two fingers pressing against my clit, circling just right—and I…"
She bit her lip, shame flickering in her eyes.
"I moaned."
Roy exhaled hard, breath leaving him in a rush.
"It was just a reflex," she said softly. "But he took it as permission. Next thing I knew, he was spinning me around, shoving me face-first into the door. One hand kept my wrists pinned behind my back while the other yanked my suit down to my waist, baring my ass completely."
The image burned into Roy's mind—Sofia's smooth skin pressed against the wood, her round cheeks exposed, her back arched as Renard loomed over her.
"He didn't waste time," she went on, her voice thick. "His cock was out, rubbing between my thighs, the tip dragging through my wetness. 'You're gonna take it just like Samantha's taking your husband,' he growled. 'And you're gonna fucking love it.'"
Roy's stomach twisted, his cock throbbing now, caught between fury and a dark, deviant lust.
Sofia's next words came in a rush. "I kicked back—hard. Caught him in the thigh. He cursed, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free. I yanked my suit up and ran, barely getting the door open before he could grab me again."
Roy exhaled sharply. "Thank God—"
"But he followed me," she interrupted, voice trembling. "All the way downstairs. Through the party. And when I finally stopped near the pool, he leaned in and whispered, 'Next time, I won't let you go.'"
Silence thickened between them.
Sofia finally looked up at him, her hazel eyes glistening.
"And the worst part?" she said, her fingers trailing up Roy's chest, nails grazing lightly.
"When I finally found you—when I saw you sitting alone at the pool bar, drinking like nothing happened—all I could think was…"
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"You got to touch her. But I didn't get to cum."
Roy's breath hitched.
Then Sofia moved.
In one fluid motion, she swung her leg over Roy's hips, straddling him. Her black hair cascaded around her shoulders, her breasts brushing his chest. Her hands pinned his wrists above his head—just like Renard had done to her—her slick heat grinding down against his hardening cock.
Her voice dipped into a sinful purr.
"So here's what's going to happen now, Roy."
She rolled her hips slowly, her wetness smearing against him.
"You're going to fuck me harder than you fucked her. You're going to make me cum louder than she ever could. And when I'm screaming your name, when I'm dripping down your thighs—"
She leaned down, her teeth biting his earlobe.
"Then you're going to tell me exactly what her tits felt like in your hands."