Nice View

Spring just hit and Audrey Quinn and Sam B itch to hit the pavement. Their sneakers are laced. Then the sky cracks open and rain hammers the glass. Melbourne's skyline smears behind fat droplets. Pent-up energy snaps between them like a wire pulled too tight. Audrey turns from the window, eyes dark. "Cardio," she says. That's all. She peels her hoodie off, sports bra damp from the sudden heat. Sam follows suit—shirt gone, chest bare, breath already rough. No talking after that. Audrey pushes Sam back against the wide window. Cold glass against warm skin. Their jog clothes come off fast, tossed like obstacles. Audrey drops to her knees, mouth hot, and Sam’s head thuds the glass with a curse. Rain streaks the pane beside their bodies. They fuck right there—standing, then on the hardwood. Audrey’s thighs flex, riding hard and mean. Sam’s hands grip her hips like they might bruise. They move like athletes. Quick, precise, relentless. Wet sounds cut through the room as they chase the burn. Sweat mixes with the city light behind the downpour. It doesn’t last long. It wasn’t meant to. Audrey’s nails drag down Sam’s back. Sam moans like they’ve hit a second wind. When they break, it’s all teeth, salt, and shaking legs. The rain keeps pounding. They stay tangled on the floor, breathing like sprinters past the finish line.