It started with a look. One of those glances she gives when she wants to break me in half.
We were parked at the far edge of the lot, the rain misting lightly on the windshield, soft enough to blur the world around us. In here, it was quiet. Dim. Just her and me - and the tension stretching between us, thick and electric.
She reached for me first. Just a hand on my thigh, fingers gliding up slowly… too slowly.
“You've been patient all night,” she whispered, her voice a low hum in the dark. “Let me make it worth it.”
She climbed onto my lap, her knees pressing into either side of my hips, her breath hot against my neck. I could feel the heat of her even through the fabric between us. She kissed me - soft at first, then deeper. Desperate. Her lips parted and she breathed me in like I was air.
My hands found her waist, traced the line of her back, then slid down to her thighs, pulling her closer. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft, and when I reached higher, I realized she wasn't wearing anything under that dress.
I exhaled sharply. “You planned this.”
Her smile pressed into my jaw. “Every second.”
She rocked her hips against me - slow, teasing. I could feel how wet she was already. She moaned softly, not from pressure, but from the build - up - the ache she'd let grow for hours.
I undid my jeans with shaking hands, and she helped me, her fingers brushing mine -deliberate, intimate, intensely slow. When I was free, she didn't rush. She just held me, stroked me, watching my face with those dark, unreadable eyes.
And then she lowered herself onto me.
We both gasped.
She was so warm, so tight, every inch drawing me in like she was made for me. She stayed still at first, savoring the way I filled her, her forehead resting against mine. Our breaths tangled in the space between us.
“I love how you feel inside me,” she whispered. “Like I was waiting for this all day.”
My hands gripped her hips, but I didn't move. I couldn't. I just let myself feel her -every pulse, every slow shift of her body around mine.
When she started to move, it wasn't about pace - it was about feeling. She moved like a slow wave, her body rising and sinking with grace, like we had all the time in the world.
She whispered my name into my ear, again and again, her lips brushing my skin like a promise. Her hands tangled in my hair, her thighs tightening around me, her voice breaking when I kissed her just below her ear.
I could feel her getting close. The way her breath caught. The way she started to lose rhythm, hips stuttering as her moans grew more frantic.
“I'm right there,” she breathed. “Don't stop…”
I didn't. I held her close, moved with her, and kissed her through it.
She broke in my arms, shaking against me, crying out softly as she came. And I followed - hard and fast, pulled under by the sound of her, the heat of her, the overwhelming realness of her wrapped around me.
Afterward, we stayed tangled together, her head on my shoulder, fingers playing lazily with the hem of my shirt.
She looked up at me with that same soft smile. “This is what I needed.”
I nodded, brushing hair from her face. “Me too.”
And even in the silence, even in the stillness, I could feel it - this quiet, powerful thing between us. Not just sex. Not just lust. But something deeper. Hungrier.
We weren't done.
Not even close.
We were parked at the far edge of the lot, the rain misting lightly on the windshield, soft enough to blur the world around us. In here, it was quiet. Dim. Just her and me - and the tension stretching between us, thick and electric.
She reached for me first. Just a hand on my thigh, fingers gliding up slowly… too slowly.
“You've been patient all night,” she whispered, her voice a low hum in the dark. “Let me make it worth it.”
She climbed onto my lap, her knees pressing into either side of my hips, her breath hot against my neck. I could feel the heat of her even through the fabric between us. She kissed me - soft at first, then deeper. Desperate. Her lips parted and she breathed me in like I was air.
My hands found her waist, traced the line of her back, then slid down to her thighs, pulling her closer. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft, and when I reached higher, I realized she wasn't wearing anything under that dress.
I exhaled sharply. “You planned this.”
Her smile pressed into my jaw. “Every second.”
She rocked her hips against me - slow, teasing. I could feel how wet she was already. She moaned softly, not from pressure, but from the build - up - the ache she'd let grow for hours.
I undid my jeans with shaking hands, and she helped me, her fingers brushing mine -deliberate, intimate, intensely slow. When I was free, she didn't rush. She just held me, stroked me, watching my face with those dark, unreadable eyes.
And then she lowered herself onto me.
We both gasped.
She was so warm, so tight, every inch drawing me in like she was made for me. She stayed still at first, savoring the way I filled her, her forehead resting against mine. Our breaths tangled in the space between us.
“I love how you feel inside me,” she whispered. “Like I was waiting for this all day.”
My hands gripped her hips, but I didn't move. I couldn't. I just let myself feel her -every pulse, every slow shift of her body around mine.
When she started to move, it wasn't about pace - it was about feeling. She moved like a slow wave, her body rising and sinking with grace, like we had all the time in the world.
She whispered my name into my ear, again and again, her lips brushing my skin like a promise. Her hands tangled in my hair, her thighs tightening around me, her voice breaking when I kissed her just below her ear.
I could feel her getting close. The way her breath caught. The way she started to lose rhythm, hips stuttering as her moans grew more frantic.
“I'm right there,” she breathed. “Don't stop…”
I didn't. I held her close, moved with her, and kissed her through it.
She broke in my arms, shaking against me, crying out softly as she came. And I followed - hard and fast, pulled under by the sound of her, the heat of her, the overwhelming realness of her wrapped around me.
Afterward, we stayed tangled together, her head on my shoulder, fingers playing lazily with the hem of my shirt.
She looked up at me with that same soft smile. “This is what I needed.”
I nodded, brushing hair from her face. “Me too.”
And even in the silence, even in the stillness, I could feel it - this quiet, powerful thing between us. Not just sex. Not just lust. But something deeper. Hungrier.
We weren't done.
Not even close.