The Backroom

Casey Jordan's heart raced as she spotted Hal Rockland across the dimly lit bar, his broad shoulders cutting through the haze like a promise unkept for too long. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, the years apart dissolved. She crossed the room with deliberate steps, her hips swaying in invitation. Hal pulled her close, his hands firm on her waist, lips crashing against hers in a kiss that tasted of forgotten nights and urgent need. They barely made it to his hotel room. The door slammed shut behind them, and Hal pinned her against the wall, his mouth devouring her neck while his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse. Casey gasped, arching into him, her body alive with the fire only he could ignite. She tugged at his shirt, nails scraping his chest as it fell away, revealing the hard planes she remembered so well. Hal lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed where he stripped her bare with practiced ease. Naked and trembling with anticipation, Casey spread her legs, pulling him down. He positioned himself above her, his thick cock pressing against her slick entrance. With a low growl, Hal thrust inside, filling her completely. She moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He set a relentless rhythm, hips snapping forward in powerful strokes that made her breasts bounce and her breath hitch. Casey clawed at his back, lost in the delicious stretch and heat of him topping her, claiming every inch. Sweat slicked their skin as pleasure built, coiling tight. Hal's hand slipped between them, thumb circling her clit with expert pressure, pushing her over the edge. She shattered around him, cries echoing in the room, and he followed, spilling deep inside with a guttural groan. Spent and sated, they collapsed together, limbs tangled in the afterglow of their fiery reunion.