What Should I Wear?

Man, trying to get dressed is a fucking joke when Catherine's standing there in lace so sheer you can practically taste what's underneath. Lorenzo clocks that curve of her hip, that knowing glint in her eye, and suddenly his clothes feel pointless too. Horny doesn't even cut it - they both know exactly what they want, and it's not patience. Clothes hit the floor fast. Catherine grabs what she wants, wraps her fingers around him, pulls him in close like she's done waiting. Lorenzo pushes her back, breath hot on her neck, finds her already slick and aching for him. He slides into her without hesitation and she meets him with a wicked grin, rolling her hips like she's leading. The sex isn't slow or pretty - just raw, shameless, loud. Catherine digs her nails in wherever she can catch, rides every thrust like it's owed to her. Lorenzo grips, slams, fucks her harder whenever she moans his name. They don't drag it out. They don't play coy. Just straight heat, skin slapping, filthy words, no break until Catherine's shaking through it and Lorenzo's right behind her, messy and loud and satisfied as hell.