Motor Oil and Regret

"I didn't know you'd be here."

Maya's voice cut through the hum of small talk and clinking glasses. She stood by the makeshift bar in Greg's garage, the fluorescent lights catching the gold in her hair. I froze, my hand wrapped around a beer bottle I didn't want.

"Neither did I," I said, my throat dry. Three years since we'd split, and she still wore that same fucking perfume—jasmine and something sharp, like anticipation.

"You look good, Leo." Her eyes traveled down my chest, lingering where my shirt stretched tight over my shoulders. "Still working out?"

"Still fixing cars." I shrugged. "You still pretending you don't miss my hands on you?"

She bit her lip. The garage smelled like gasoline and dust, but between us, the air went thick with something else. Her dress was black, clingy, hitched high on her thighs. She stepped closer.

"Your hands?" she whispered. "I still dream about them."

I pulled her into the shadow between Greg's tool bench and the old Mustang he'd been restoring. Her back hit the cold metal shelf. My palm slid under her dress, up her thigh, and she gasped.

"Fuck, Maya. You're not wearing anything under this."

"I knew you'd be here," she breathed. "I planned it."

I kissed her hard—teeth and tongue, no softness. My fingers found her pussy, already soaked. She whimpered against my mouth, grinding into my hand.

"Please, Leo. I need your cock. Now."

I unzipped my jeans, pulled myself out. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I pushed into her—slow at first, then deeper. Her nails dug into my shoulders.

"Harder," she begged. "Fuck me like you hate me."

I grabbed her hips, slammed into her. The tool bench rattled. She bit down on my shoulder to keep from screaming. I could feel her pussy clenching around me, hot and tight.

"Don't stop," she moaned. "I'm gonna cum."

I drove into her faster, my balls slapping against her ass. She came with a sharp cry, her whole body shaking. I kept going, chasing my own release, until she gasped, "Cum inside me. Please."

I buried myself deep and let go, feeling her tighten around my cock as I emptied into her. She collapsed against me, breathless.

"Fuck," she whispered. "I forgot how good that feels."

I kissed her forehead. "So did I."

We stood there, panting, tangled together in the garage's dim light. The party was still going on twenty feet away, but we didn't care.

"Same time next year?" she asked, smiling.

I laughed. "I'll be here."