Amylee's Fiery Fantasy

Kevin stands shirtless by the brass pole, helmet on, turnout coat hanging open. Thirty seconds after the flash clicks, he drops the coat. Amylee’s barely had time to slide her panties down before he’s rolling the suspenders off his shoulders. The bunker pants hit the floor next. Kevin scoops her up, rough palms gripping her ass, and she wraps her legs around his waist like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done. He backs her against the red truck, paint warm from the lights, and pushes in with one smooth thrust that makes the chrome shiver. Amylee laughs into his neck because this moment, silly helmet and all, is exactly what she asked for. He gives it to her hard and steady, boots planted, axe still hooked to his belt bumping against her thigh every time he drives forward. When she comes, she keeps the helmet on him; the reflection of the red flashing lights dances across the curve of her breasts while Kevin grunts and finishes deep, thighs shaking under the weight of them both.