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She dragged him straight into the alley, slammed his back against the brick. Her mouth hit his before he caught his breath. Hard, wet, hungry. He tasted her, licked her tongue, felt her teeth graze his lip. Her hand jerked his belt open, pushed his jeans down to his knees, and closed around his cock. She pumped him—short, vicious strokes—then spit in her palm and kept going. He grabbed a fistful of her ass, squeezed hard, and yanked her skirt up. No underwear. Two fingers slid between her legs, found her soaked. He shoved them into her without warning. She bit his ear, breathed hot and ragged. Her thighs trembled. He spun her around, pressed her chest to the cold brick, kicked her legs apart. With one thrust he buried himself inside her, balls-deep. She cried out—half-pain, half-pleasure—and shoved back against him. They fucked like that: angry, fast, brutal. Her pussy clenched, slicking him from balls to root. He reached around, rubbed her clit in tight circles until her knees buckled. She came, fluttering and hot around his cock. That was enough. He drove in deeper, emptied into her in hot, jerking spurts, panting against her shoulder. They stayed pressed together, breathing ragged, until her fingers loosened on the wall and his hands slid away.