Military Leave

Karlo walks in on his first day of leave and Rilynn damn near falls over. Next second she has him backed against the door. She yanks his belt open before it clicks shut, shoves his pants low, and climbs him like a soldier on a weekend pass. Her sundress rides up; she kicks her panties off midair and sinks straight onto him, no hello, just skin and need. He still has his duffel slung over one shoulder and grabs her ass with the free hand, meeting every bounce. They stagger from wall to couch to bedroom floor, leaving a trail of tossed clothes. Rilynn talks the whole time—dirty, breathless commentary on how nothing else feels this deep, how her body missed every thrust—while Karlo answers with grunts and the steady slam of his hips. She flips him once, rides until her thighs shake, then lets him flip her back and pin her wrists to finish inside her like he’s been counting days. They finally slow on sweat-damp sheets, breathing hard, both already grinning because the night’s just getting started.