Yes - he pulls her free by any means nessescary

Robin was having his own arousal issues, watching Sofie's nipple perk up and be exposed. He knewbshe could feel his hard cock by her cheek. But thisbwas his friend, his roomate. His protective fury crystallized into action. "Okay, Soph. I'm going to get you out. Slowly." He leaned in, his hands reaching for her. He needed leverage. He slid his fingers into the crease under her breasts, his thumbs pressing against the soft swell of her cleavage. It was the only place he could get a grip on her slick, sweat-slicked torso. "I'm going to lift you," he murmured. He pulled, his thumbs digging into the yielding flesh. Sophie felt the pressure, a firm, grounding ****. She also felt the humiliating way her breasts compressed and shifted under his hands, bouncing slightly with his efforts. She saw his eyes flick down, a flash of something primal and hungry in them before he masked it. He was enjoying this. The thought was a fresh wave of shame, but she was too **** to care. She wanted his help!

He managed to shift her an inch, but her father's arm tightened reflexively. "No," Robin grunted. He had to move her dad's hand. He reached across her, his arm brushing against her curves, and carefully wrapped his fingers around Mr. Henderson's wrist. As he lifted the groping hand, his other hand slipped, sliding from her ribs and pressing harder into the soft flesh of her breast, using her cleavage as a handle to pull her up and out. She bit her lip, a fresh wave of heat washing over her as his palm brushed against the sensitive skin. Her dad's hand fell limply beside them - she was halfway to freedom.

He finally managed to shift her hips, pulling her lower body toward him. Her inner thigh, slick with sweat and melting paint, slid free of her father's face. To anchor her, Robin's hand shot out, gripping her thigh to pull her the rest of the way onto his lap. But the combination of sweat, paint, and her own arousal was too much. His hand slid, an unstoppable glide up her leg until his palm pressed directly against the hot, wet fabric of her painted "shorts." He had accidentally grabbed her by the crotch.

Sophie's entire world went white. A silent scream built in her chest. His hand was *there*. The pressure was firm, undeniable, a shocking, intimate heat that stole her breath. He froze for a split second, their eyes made contact for a moment and they were in their own little world. Did she agree to this? Her wide eyes, unfliching, understanding, gave him the consent he was looking for. With a guttural sound of effort, fingers curled into her lips, he pulled. He used the grip on her most private place as the final leverage, hauling her out of her father's embrace in one slow, smooth, powerful motion.

She collapsed onto his lap, a naked, paint-smeared, sobbing mess. The small of her back was against his lap and she could feel it—the hard, thick ridge of his erection pressing against her through his shorts. He had been hard the whole time. His hands were still on her, one resting on her quivering thigh, the other wrapped around her cleavage. She was out. She was aroused. She was safe. And she was in the arms of her awkward roomate, who had just pulled her to freedom by her pussy.