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We stumble up the pathway to her door, our lips locked in a battle of passion and need. Jane’s back hits the wooden door with a thud, and she gasps, not from pain but from the electricity zipping through our veins. Her hands are on me, small and sure, roaming over the muscles she’s claimed as her territory.
“God, Jane,” I murmur, and she melts further into me.
The thought crosses my mind that I should be cautious, guarded. But around Jane, all those walls come tumbling down. She twists around, fumbling with the keys in an effort to unlock the door, while my fingers brush lower, igniting a different kind of spark within me. A moan escapes her as my fingers brush her most intimate area.
“Need help?” I tease, my breath hot on her ear, and she nods dumbly.
The lock clicks open. “Inside.” Jane’s voice is a ragged whisper filled with yearning. “Now.”
The cool night air is immediately forgotten as we cross the threshold, our bodies colliding with an urgency that transcends words. A passionate cry escapes Jane as she kicks off her shoes, and my boots thud to the floor. I slam the door shut with a force that echoes through the sparse silence of Jane’s living room.
“Jane...” My voice is rough, laced with desire.
With hurried movements I peel away my clothes, fingers deft and eager.
“Tex,” she breathes out, tugging at my shirt.
The fabric parts from my skin, revealing the inked canvas of my muscular torso.
We’re shedding layers, leaving a trail of denim and leather in our wake. Her house feels too quiet, too bare, with walls stripped of memories. No photographs hang in their frames; no laughter lives in these rooms. It’s not a home; it’s just a house—a shelter from storms past.
“Didn’t take you for a minimalist,” I joke.
Jane has surrounded herself with the void where warmth should be.
“Never had much to hold onto,” she admits, and my heart skips a beat under her gaze. “Things... they come and go.”
“Like people?” My question is gentle, probing beneath the surface with care.
“Especially like people,” Jane confesses.
“Then let’s make some new memories.”
Jane leads me to her bedroom. Our movements are frenzied now, a dance of need that propels us forward, driven by a hunger that’s as much about connection as it is about release.
“Damn, girl, you’re even more beautiful like this.”
“Keep talking, and you’ll ruin the moment,” Jane teases.
We reach the edge of the bed, its frame creaking slightly under our combined weight. The sheets are cool against my heated skin, but her body is a furnace, searing me with every touch.
“Tex,” Jane whispers. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Nothing could drag me away.”
There’s a mirror on the wall opposite to her bed and it catches the light from the streetlamp outside, casting a pale glow across the room.
“Tex.” Jane’s voice trembles with need.
My name is a prayer, a plea, and I answer it by kissing down her body. Each curve, scar and imperfection is explored until the flat of tongue, reaches the delicate folds of her pussy.
“Jane,” I growl against her. “You taste like sin and redemption all at once.”
Her hands fist in the sheets as I explore her further, teasing Jane to the edge only to pull back. Again and again, I bring her to the brink, each time more intense than the last until she’s a quivering mess of want and desperation.
“Please,” Jane begs, the word falling from lips swollen with kisses. “I need you inside me, Tex.”
With one fluid move, I flip her over, her hands bracing against the mattress, her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
