Untangling

They agreed to split the move-out times. She took morning, he took night. Still they collided in the loft. Her boxes half-taped, his jacket on the floor. Abella met his eyes. "We’re not getting back together," she said, voice steady. Markus shook his head. "I don’t want to." His fingers were already under her waistband, finding heat. She gripped his wrist yet didn’t pull away. He bent her over the kitchen counter and yanked her jeans down, the denim bunched at her knees. His tongue worked between her ass cheeks until she opened for him, thighs shaking. Abella spun, dropped to her knees, took his cock into her mouth in one fast slide, gagging once then steadying her rhythm. Spit ran down her chin while she jerked him and sucked harder. He dragged her upright, bent her again, this time sliding deep into her ass with one long push. She braced against the counter edge and pushed back until their hips met. He fucked her that way, short brutal strokes, her cheek pressed to the cold marble. When he pulled out she dropped again, mouth open, and he came across her tongue and lower lip. She swallowed, wiped the rest with the back of her hand, and stood. Neither spoke. They went back to packing.