Spontaneous Combustion

Alecia Fox tried to focus on her textbooks but the steady rhythm through the wall made every line blur. She tossed the book aside, crossed the hall, and banged on his door. Oliver Trunk opened it in low-slung sweats, the air thick with heat and the faint smell of sex. She meant to complain. Instead she stepped inside and let the door close behind her. His hands found her hips first. She felt the day’s warmth still on his skin. He slid her shorts down, and she felt the cool air kiss the damp spot between her legs. He dropped to his knees, tongue dragging slow and wet over her bush before he stood again and guided her onto the bed. She took him in her mouth, tasting the faint salt of his skin, then turned over when he nudged her onto all fours. His cock pressed against her ass, slicked by her spit, and pushed in deep. She gasped at the stretch, nails gripping the sheets. He pulled out, fed himself back into her mouth, the tang of her own body sharp on his length. Back in again, harder now. Each thrust drove her forward until she braced on her elbows, hair falling over her face. The wall that once kept her awake now rattled under them. He finished with a low grunt, pulling free so the last hot spurt landed across her lower back. She stayed on her knees, breathing hard, textbooks forgotten on the floor next door.