“We don’t talk,” I answer. “We fuck.”

It was too harsh, and I regret it immediately, but it’s true. Savannah and I are just physical, and that’s what I love about us.

She tries to climb off, but I stop her, placing another deep kiss against her neck. My tongue carves a trail up from her clavicle to her chin, and even I can feel her grind against my body in response.

“I don’t want to be your quick fuck, Murph.”

“You weren’t saying that when my face was buried in your pussy last night.”

“If you’re not going to talk to me…” she pulls away again.

“This is how I do my talking, darling.” My hands run under her dress and stops just before I reach her soaked panties. “You still want to talk?”

She squirms, fighting her own demons but clearly trying to ease my fingers closer to where she wants them.

“Tell me to stop,” I purr practically taking a bite out of her neck. She groans deep and loud. I’ll take that as a no. Slipping the fabric aside, I sink my finger inside her and let my thumb work her clit as she squirms on my lap.

“Murph,” she squeals. She’s stopped pushing me away, and instead, her hands are now fumbling with the button of my pants.

“Take it out,” I whisper against her neck.

My cock is throbbing behind the zipper of my jeans so that when she finally gets the button undone, they practically peel open on their own. Her hand wraps around me, and my hips jerk forward in response.

“Tell me you want me inside you,” I groan against her throat.

“I want you inside me,” she pants.

In one stroke, I rip her panties clean off, the tearing sound muffled by her moans. She wraps her arms around my neck as I link my hands under her legs and pull her closer. I enter her quickly, gliding in smoothly. And just like that, I forget it all. No funeral. No birth certificate. Nothing but her.

One hand grabs her ass to bounce her against my cock, while the other hand buries into her dark hair. My nose digs into her hair as I breathe her in.

I lean her back on the handlebars of the bike so I can look at her. Savannah in the throes of pleasure is the most beautiful fucking image I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

I know she can’t be comfortable, so I pick her up and squeeze her to my body, her limp form hanging onto my shoulders as I climb off the bike and carry her over to the workbench, setting her down carefully.