The grey sheets were cool beneath my back as I lay waiting, naked, my dark hair spread across the pillow. I heard his key slide into the lock, my heart hammering, when he walked in smelling of outside air and sweat. He wore a black tank top, muscles visible, eyes dropping to me on the bed.<br><br>He crossed the room quiet, hands immediately on me, mouth on my throat. I gasped when fingers pushed between my legs, rough and urgent, finding how wet I was. Embarrassingly so. He knew. His thumb circled my clit while his other hand pinned my wrists above my head against the grey sheets.<br><br>I ended up on my stomach, face down in the pillow, ass up while he drove into me from behind, slamming deep. I clutched the grey sheets, knuckles white, making sounds into the fabric I couldn't control. He turned me onto my back, folding my legs up so far my knees neared my ears, and I cried out because he filled me completely. He pounded into me, his black tank top still on, rough and relentless.

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