Daily dose

She counts the minutes until five. All day the thought of him waits in the corner of her mind, hard and ready the moment she steps out the door. He meets her on the curb, pulls her close, and the ride home is just the first stretch of tension. By the time they reach the apartment she’s already wet. He doesn’t waste time—hands on her waist, mouth at her neck—and they’re on the bed in seconds. Clothes hit the floor fast. Her blonde hair spills across the sheets as he opens her up, takes her deep, then slower, pushing past every tight ring until her breath breaks. She comes once, twice, but he keeps her there, using her until he’s ready. When he pulls out and paints her open mouth she swallows like she’s been waiting for it since morning. That’s the daily dose she can’t skip.