"Don't wear yourself out," I panted against his mouth, thrusting into him as steadily as I could in the cramped space of his backseat. "You're going to fuck me when we get home."

Home. It spilled out of me without a second-thought. The reality that we didn't share a home was the furthest thing from my mind. We were going to go home and he was going to fuck my brains out and then I wasn't going to move from his bed— from our bed until noon.

The car's low ceiling wasn't very forgiving, but I urged him to move as much as he could. I didn't want it to end, but at this pace, neither of us were going to last long.