It wasn’t gentle, it was rough and demanding, six months of tension exploding between us.

I kissed him back just as hard, grinding down against him. I could feel his cock straining against his shorts.

His hands went under my shirt, pushing it up and over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra. His eyes went dark in the dim light.

“Fuck,” he muttered, palming my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples.

I reached for his shirt, yanking it off. My hands explored his chest, his stomach, feeling muscle flex under my touch. Then I went lower, sliding my hand into his shorts, wrapping around his cock.

He groaned, hips...