"Your turn."
She pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra, letting both fall to the floor. His eyes tracked down her body, and she watched his throat move as he swallowed.
"Come here," she said.
He lowered himself over her, bracing on his forearms. The weight of him pressed her into the mattress, his chest against hers, his hips settling between her thighs. She could feel him through his jeans, hard and thick, and she rocked up against him. He groaned, the sound low and rough.
"Pants," she said. "Off."
He pushed up onto his knees and unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal was loud in the quiet room. He shoved his jeans and boxers down together and kicked them off the bed. She took a moment to look at him, the length of him, the way his cock curved up toward his stomach.
"You too," he said, his voice rough.
She lifted her hips and let him pull her jeans and underwear down her legs. He dropped them somewhere, and then he was back over her, skin against skin, nothing between them. The heat of him was everywhere, his thigh pressing between hers, his mouth on her throat.
His hand slid down her stomach and between her legs. His fingers found her wet and ready, and he made a sound against her neck that was almost a growl. He circled her clit with his thumb, slow and deliberate, while two fingers slid inside her. She arched into his hand, her breath catching.
"Brian." His name came out broken. "I don't want to wait."
He withdrew his hand. He moved between her thighs again, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.
"Look at me," he said.
She met his eyes as he pushed inside her, slow and steady, filling her inch by inch. The stretch made her gasp. He stopped when he was fully seated, giving her a moment to adjust, his forehead pressed to hers.
"Okay?" he asked.
"More than okay." She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper. "Move."
He did. Long, slow strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. She felt every inch of him, the drag and push, the way her body gripped him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks in his skin.
"Faster," she breathed.
He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against hers. The bed creaked with each thrust. She could hear the wet sound of their bodies meeting, could smell salt and sweat and the faint trace of motor oil still clinging to his skin from the shop. His hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise, angling her up so he hit deeper.
"Right there," she gasped. "God, right there."
He kept that angle, driving into her with a rhythm that made her vision blur. The tension built in her belly, coiling tighter with each stroke. She reached between them and pressed her fingers to her clit, rubbing in small circles. Brian's eyes dropped to watch, and his rhythm stuttered.
"Fuck, Tessa." His voice was wrecked. "You're going to make me come."
"Then come," she said. "I'm close."
He thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged against her ear. She felt the orgasm building, the pressure almost unbearable, and then it broke. She cried out, her whole body clenching around him. He followed seconds later, his hips jerking, a groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep and shuddered.
They lay tangled together, breathing hard. The ceiling fan turned lazy circles above them. The last of the daylight was fading, turning the room from gold to violet.
Brian pulled out carefully, then collapsed beside her and pulled her against his side. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
"That was a good celebration," she said.
He laughed, the sound vibrating against her cheek. "Glad you approve."
"I have high standards."
"I've noticed." His fingers traced idle patterns on her shoulder. "So. What now?"
"Now? We lie here until we're hungry enough to move." She chuckled.
