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“I’ll keep you warm,” I said.
“Good answer.” She grabbed my lapels and pulled me against the wall with her.
Her coat swung open and I wrapped my arms around her inside it. She was freezing, all goosebumps, and she pressed herself against me with a little hiss. Then she tipped her face up and kissed me.
It was not a polite kiss. Her tongue was in my mouth before I’d caught up, tasting of smoke and mint, her cold hands sliding inside my shirt. I groaned and she laughed into my mouth.
“No cameras out here,” she whispered. “No rules.”
My hands found her arse under the coat, bare except for a strip of lace, and squeezed. She ground against me. Then her hand slid down between us, unzipped my jeans and slipped inside, wrapping round my cock.
“Oh, hello,” she said.
She stroked me against the wall, slow at first, then faster, her mouth on my neck. I slid my fingers between her thighs, under the lace, and found her hot and wet. She gasped and rode my hand while she worked me.
She came first, quietly, shuddering into my shoulder. I came a minute later, into her fist, my forehead against the brick.
A door banged somewhere. She pulled away, laughing, wiped her hand on my shirt and buttoned her coat.
“Break’s over,” she said. “Next time, pick me first.”
She went back inside. I stood in the alley, shirt ruined, completely in love.