"You know I'm only good at this because it's you," he said wryly. Because it's us was implied. Because it was instinct, like chasing pleasure of his own, to take one of her knees and push it towards her chest, which tilted her pelvis to an angle that allowed his cock to slide even deeper, pressing steadily against the place inside of her that always made her tremble.

"I want to make a mess of you," he admitted, pinching at her nipple until it was flushed and tight, her breath coming in sharper pants. "How long can they spare you at the junkyard?"