Cold Concrete Reckoning

He drags her uniform shirt higher, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast. She gasps against his mouth and works his jeans down past his hips, the leather of his jacket creaking as he shifts. The concrete wall of the building is cold against her back, the bike seat hard under her, and he pushes into her in one raw, shuddering motion—her fingers digging into his shoulders, her head falling back.