Quickie Sex on a Rough Ferry Crossing Home

Jen had exactly twenty minutes before the dinner reservation, and she knew precisely how she wanted to spend them. Mark was still buttoning his shirt when she crossed the bedroom, took the fabric from his fingers, and pushed him gently back onto the edge of the bed. He laughed, surprised, but the look in her eyes made it clear this was no joke. She wanted him now, fast and unapologetic, before the evening swept them both away.

Her dress was already halfway up her thighs as she climbed onto his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. Mark slid his hands along her hips, asking with a glance, and she answered with a deep, hungry kiss. There was no slow buildup tonight, no careful teasing. She guided him into her with a soft gasp and began to move, setting a rhythm that was bold and a little rough, exactly the way she liked it when time was short and desire was high.

The headboard tapped against the wall in steady beats. Jen braced her hands on his shoulders and rode him harder, her hair falling across her face, her breath coming in quick, warm bursts against his neck. Mark held on to her waist, matching her pace, murmuring her name between ragged breaths. Every movement felt urgent and electric, the thrill of the ticking clock only sharpening the heat between them.

When she finally came apart, she pressed her forehead to his and shuddered, pulling him over the edge right along with her. For a long moment they simply stayed tangled together, laughing breathlessly at their own impatience. Then Jen kissed him once more, slipped off his lap, and smoothed her dress with a satisfied smile.

They made the reservation with two minutes to spare. All through dinner, Mark kept catching her eye across the candlelight, and Jen only grinned, already wondering how fast they could get home for round two.