It’s later than Sophie wanted to be working this evening. She nearly bursts out from the city’s high-rise glass buildings, huffing a well-deserved curse aimed at her new boss.

‘No consideration for other people’s time.’

‘Stupid…rambling…pompous ass.’

The string of insults continues as the wind whips around Sophie’s coat, the downtown lights deserving more romantic reverence than what Sophie can afford at the moment.

Her purse tumbles into the passenger seat, little consideration paid to the car’s ignition as she forces the key forward until cold cylinders rumble to life.

Sophie slides a hand over her hair, pushing aside stray strands set free by the wind, her attempts proving futile as she exhales. She rolls the Toyota out of the sparsely populated parking lot.

Masterfully running a yellow light while tapping on her phone with one hand, she makes the call with little more than a glance. Her phone rings in the speakers.

Click – A young lady’s voice sounds. “Hey, Sophie.”

Sophie’s reply follows without missing a beat. “Hey. Sorry I’m running so late. Everything going ok? I hope it was an easy night. So sorry…”

“Oh,” the young lady’s voice counters, a hint of some confusion. “I wouldn’t know, really. Dean showed up, so, I thought you arranged something else. I…left you a voicemail?”

At that moment, a Missed Call buzzes on Sophie’s phone, immediately followed by a new voicemail notification.

Sophie’s hands land on the steering wheel, the right words not containing any profanity remaining elusive. “Christie…” she begins, trying to focus on the road instead of her instant pang of anger. “I didn’t call Dean. I–No.”

The absence of Christie’s reply isn’t reassuring in the least, but she eventually manages some semblance of an answer. “He’s shown up before, Sophie…so, I just thought that–”

Sophie’s voice betrays her true feelings. “It’s fine, Christie. You did the right thing.”

“Are you sure? I can head back to your place now.”

“No. No.” Sophie’s hand lands hard on the wheel again, her lips pressed together as she regains composure. “I’m already on my way and…I’ll deal with it when I get there. Thanks for helping, Christie. Let me know when you’re available again?”

The conversation ends soon thereafter, Sophie making incredible time without paying most of the stop signs leading into her neighborhood the attention that Virginia statues demand.

She shakes her head, relieving the tension in her jaw only after realizing that she’s gritting her teeth.

‘I swear,’ Sophie echoes in her head, ‘if I find them in there together, living it up in my house, I swear upon everything that is holy that I’ll spend the evening digging a hole to hide his body.’

She makes a leaning left onto Alveston.

Sophie huffs, wishing that the soothing voice of the woman singing a song of longing and love would cause her to feel the same instead of rolling up into her own driveway thoroughly pissed off right now.

Sophie can’t keep doing this, associating with a man who just comes and goes, unable to give her the dedicated time that Sophie feels she deserves after what she’s been through.

She’s the one who asked him out first.

She’s the one who had to make sacrifices when he stood in that hotel foyer with that pitiful little look on his face, saying that he could only stay a few days instead of the week that he promised. He promised. Five hundred dollars and three hundred miles. Wasted.

She’s the one who will have to pay, again, if she finds out that he’s been up late with her, in Sophie’s house, where she makes the rules, flaunting all of Sophie’s cares in her face.

“But, baby girl,” she mocks to herself, a terrible imitation of Dean’s deep voice, bobbling her head in a childish display. “What about baby girl?”

Pompous. Ass.

Dead. He and the boss both.

‘Double Homicide,’ the papers will read. ‘Suspect At Large – Police End Search.’  

Sophie puts the car in park, leaving her purse in the passenger seat as she stomps high heels on the concrete walkway leading up to her front door. She’d be much more driven to express her mind in profane and direct expressions if there were more than a single, glowing light hovering over the front door.

Her house is silent – dark, still, secure.

Sophie’s key gently slides into the lock, the door slow as she inches it open.

When she steps inside, she closes it behind her with practiced ease, achieving the stealth-like silence that she has perfected over the months. Sophie stops, a final exhale slipping out as she lays witness to the scene before her.

And there’s Dean, asleep on her couch in the dark. He’s barefoot, his brown shirt untucked from camouflage pants, the golden oak leaf of his uniform prominent as it hangs on a dining room chair.

Sophie smirks, seeing baby girl asleep on the couch with Dean, all twelve pounds of her held close to him as she sleeps soundly in a fleece onesie.

Slipping off her heels, Sophie makes her way over to them, gently scooping up her baby girl from an unconscious Dean, carrying her one-and-only back to the nursery, gently easing her into the crib before pulling a small blanket over her exhausted little body.

Sophie stands over the crib, head down, arms straight as she holds onto the railing. Sophie’s eyes are closed, forcing herself to take deep breaths as the previous hour of frustration eases from her body.

“Dean,” she hardly whispers into the night, raising her head. “It’s Dean. It’s ok…” She holds herself steady, standing a moment longer, adding this moment of time to the previous six weeks since Dean has taken permissive leave from Maryland.

Sophie is calm, natural in her motions as she slips off her dark blue two-piece. With silent feet and motions, she takes her time removing tight stockings and a constricting bra.

Dean is unconscious to the world, the sound of his low and steady grumble being a strangely missed mark of his presence.

Sophie’s brief bout of frustration is displaced by a soft touch of cotton as long, bare legs step toward him, soft breasts free under the short nightie.

The quick jerk of Dean’s body is Sophie’s cue that she’s achieved complete surprise as she slowly climbs over him. A clever smirk curls to one side of her lips, the beating in her chest thumping louder in her ears with every inch of his body that she overcomes, the soft fabric riding up curvy hips as she slowly crawls.

“Baby girl,” Dean murmurs with half-sleep, doing his best to roll over as he realizes what’s happening.

Sophie grins, the feel of his fatigues against her thighs sending wonderful shivers up her body while she mounts him. Her voice is low and steady as she achieves success, holding herself still. “Don’t baby girl me, mister.” Sophie kisses his neck, feeling his callused hands slide along smooth legs, her words a mutter against his jaw. “You’re dealing with momma now…” Her kisses continue. “And she’s very…very mad at you…”

Dean chuckles, feeling Sophie’s hands pull and tug at his shirt, arching his back to help her slip it over his head. His hand slides along her beautiful face, offering more of his neck and cheek as her steady and warm kisses trail along his skin. “She does seem very upset right now. I’ll go if I’m just causing problems, then.”

“Nuh-uh,” she replies with a smile, adjusting her legs as she straddles his waist. “There’s a little something you’re going to do for me. You’ve got some making up to do, my good sir.”

Sophie’s body shivers when Dean’s hands slide the nightie up and over bare curves, her playfulness melting into hot desire when his hand taps the side of a soft and exposed hip.

His lips are warm when Sophie lands a demanding kiss on him, the way she inhales almost like breathing new life into her terribly neglected body.

It doesn’t take long for Dean’s hands to slide up along her side, cupping soft breasts and aching nipples with a squeeze that would otherwise be measured as too rough. Though in this moment, Sophie’s body demands a man’s possessive hold, one that she can’t replicate on her own in lonely sheets before falling asleep every night while only fantasizing about this moment in all of its varieties. 

As they’ve done before, over and over again, Sophie wiggles her hips on Dean’s hard, exposed cock. With her nightie absent, manicured nails digging into his muscular chest, Sophie closes her eyes as she feels Dean slide back and forth between her legs, easing herself down as he slips into her.

“Oh, fuck,” she lets out from behind closed eyes, her hands gripping a strong chest. She holds herself steady, allowing her weight to slowly take more of him. “Yes. Right there, baby…”

Dean holds onto Sophie’s hips, one hand patting the soft side of her curves. His tone is casual. “I know, baby. Just take your time, yeah?”

Sophie inches herself down, only halfway to his hips as she lets out an unanticipated groan. Her eyes are closed, head back as she feels Dean fill her, his hand stroking her neck. With an open mouth, she allows him to play with her lower lip, kissing his thumb before catching it between white teeth.

“There’s my girl. Right there, baby. Just ease yourself down. I’ll take it from there. I know how you work.”

Her lips press together, brow touching over closed eyes as she achieves success, finally sitting on his hips. “Oh, holy fuck,” she lets out, opening her eyes to instantly find Dean’s. Her pupils dilate, the dim kitchen light that casts shadows on his face seeming brighter, accenting the narrow look he possesses, telling her that there’s no going back after giving into him.

“You’re so big, baby,” she moans, forcing herself to close her eyes, selfishly savoring the moment at his expense. Sophie gently rolls her hips, feeling his size gently stretch her in all directions.

Dean slides his hands along Sophie’s body, neck to waist, repeating the motion as he allows his hands to press over her breasts and stomach, gripping her thighs as he begins matching her roll.

“That fucking cock,” she lets out, a momentary smile flashing. “It feels so fucking good.” She rolls her hips, harder now, shaking her head. “It’s not gonna take me long, baby. I can feel it coming.”

Dean trails his fingertips along her temple, feeling her breast as he pinches a nipple to watch her arch her back like she always does. He touches every part of Sophie’s body like only he can, forcing her to focus less on herself and more on the man who gives her exactly what she needs.

“Let me get it, baby,” she says, arms locked as she uses his chest for leverage. Sophie begins moving her hips up and down on his hard cock, a gentle bounce following as Dean matches her pace and gives her more to push against.

“Yes,” she moans in a whisper, her mouth open as brown eyes appear darker than he remembers. “More, baby…” Sophie does a little bounce, hips rolling as she picks up the pace. “I can feel it right there…right there…don’t stop…”

Nearly breathless, Sophie pushes more of her weight down onto his chest, working him with determined hips, the tip of his cock pressing into her perfectly.

“I’m gonna…” she moans, forcing herself to look at Dean as he shakes the couch. “I’m gonna fucking cum…”

“Come on, baby,” he urges, picking up the pace. “I’m gonna take care of it. Just let it go…”

At that moment, Sophie lets out an “Oh, shit!” louder than she intends, thighs shaking as she tightens herself around him, the vibrations rippling through her body as she orgasms without the need to ask if he’s doing the same, feeling his thick cock pulse deep inside of her, the intensity of his groans matching her moans.

Sophie holds herself steady, head down as she shudders once, twice, a final time as she eventually releases the tension held between her legs.

In a familiar motion, Sophie eases Dean from her, leaning forward in a near-collapse while attempting to catch her breath. “Stay,” she tells him, more a plea than any command. “You’re staying this time. I don’t care what they say.”

She kisses Dean’s chest, the heat from their sex ebbing in the darkness, Sophie knowing that she’ll willingly bury the thoughts she previously harbored for him the longer she holds his presence.