Mouth Over Metal

Instead of answering, she presses her palm flat against the front of his jeans and feels him go still—then hard. His breath catches as she works the button open, one-handed, her other hand fisted in his jacket to keep steady. He groans her name into her mouth as she finds the zipper and pulls, his hips rocking forward into her grip. The metal seat groans beneath them as he shifts, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other dragging her uniform shirt up to her ribs.