Won't You Come In?

A buzzing Andylynn Payne bursts from her front door dressed for a perfect summer date in the sun, bright smile under her brimmed hat, heading toward nothing but good vibes. The wind changes its mind. Her hat sails into traffic, taking her mood with it, and her date never shows. Hours later she’s inside, feet up, half-pouty, and the day still stings. A knock pulls her off the couch. Sage Roux stands there, hat in hand, eyes kind. She pulls him inside, words tumbling, and heat fills the gaps between sentences. The first kiss lands soft, then deep, mouths open, breaths mixing. She shrugs the light sundress off her shoulders; it pools at her ankles. His hands circle her bare waist, sliding higher to cup her breasts while her hips grind into him, skirt already bunched around her waist. She works his zipper, wraps her fingers around him, stroking slow, skin slick, until he pins her to the kitchen counter. He lifts her thigh, drives in deep, her back arching, moans echoing against tile. Sweat gleams between her breasts as the thrusts pick up pace. She grips the edge, meets every shove, biting his shoulder when she comes hard around him. He follows with a low grunt, spilling inside her while her thighs tremble and her hat lies forgotten on the floor by the door.