She's beautiful. She's so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her.
When she slowly comes back down to herself, she's flushed and dazed and grinning. "How do you know my body so well?" she asks, reaching for my belt.
“I watch and listen, honey.” I catch her wrist. "Condom," I manage. "Wallet. Back pocket."
There's an awkward, laughing scramble to get it—her shifting in my lap, me trying to reach my back pocket while she's on top of me, both of us cracking up at the logistics. This isn't how itusually goes. Usually it's quick and anonymous and I'm already halfway out the door in my head.
I'm not out the door now.
I'm right here for as long as she’ll have me.
She takes the condom from my hand and tears the wrapper with her teeth, and the look she gives me is pure need.
We shove my jeans down, and she peels her panties off, both of us breathing as if we've been sprinting—and when she sinks down onto me, inch by inch, my hands tremble on her sexy ass cheeks.
"Kaylee." It comes out broken, and she stills as she looks down at me.
And for one perfect second, she’smineand I’mhers.
Then she starts moving, and I stop thinking completely.
She rides me slowly at first, figuring out the angle, her hands braced on my chest. I let her set the pace, watching her face, watching the way her expression shifts when she finds what works. When she does she rolls her hips making us both groan, and I grab her waist and guide her into it, harder.
"Fuck," she breathes. "Right there…"
"Yeah." My voice is like gravel. "You’re so tight, Kaylee,Jesus."
I thrust up to meet her and she gasps, her nails scoring my shoulders, and we find a rhythm that's rough and urgent and somehow still utterly connected—her eyes on mine, my hand coming up to grip her throat, both of us right here. Present. I’m not going through the motions. I’m losing myself in this woman in the back seat of my truck in a parking lot in Montana, and it’sspectacular.
She moans, clenching around my cock so hard my breath catches.
"You gonna come for me, baby?" I ask, stroking her neck, my lips grazing her ear.
She nods. "Yes, you feel amazing. Filling me up so deep, stroking me from the inside."
"Yeah, I’m in heaven, sweetheart. Your pussy is driving me crazy."
"Yes…oh god, yes…fuck me.”
She breaks with a cry as she leans forward, trying to muffle it against my neck.
Feeling her come around me pulls me over the edge so fast and intensely I see white. I crush her against me, face buried in her hair, pumping into her like mad.
“Fucking hell,” I groan.
I will remember this. God help me, I will.
She stirs, lifting her head, and gives me a smile that's drowsy and satisfied and real in a way that makes my chest crack down the middle.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey."
She traces a finger along my jaw. "Wow. You're not a bad Saturday night, Tom."
There it is again. The wrong name. I sigh on the inside.
"You're not bad yourself, honey."