Hazel Duran pushed the apartment door open with her hip, sawdust clinging faintly to her work shirt, the stronger smell of puppy shampoo drifting in ahead of her. The bell on her terrier's collar jingled as both dogs bounded up, tails smacking the wall in their excitement.

She laughed, crouching low to kiss one on the snout, hands ruffling ears and fur. "Yes, I missed you too. And yes, I smell like kennels again. You should've seen it today, one retriever puppy tried to eat his own leash. That's a skill."

Shoes kicked off, she set a glossy boutique bag on the couch. Satin handles caught the light, lace peeking out like a secret. She brushed it flat with her palm, leaving it where Mark would see it first.

The apartment was neat but warm, plants on shelves, framed photos, a throw blanket tossed just so. Hazel padded toward the kitchen, thoughts drifting to him. Mark. His laugh still echoed from last night's call. Promoted. Foreman. He'd downplayed it, but she'd heard the pride. Three years of grinding, late nights with his master's, endless shifts, finally paying off.

She poured a glass of water, picturing his boots on the tile, the earth-and-machine smell of him wrapping around her. Her fingers brushed the satin handles of the bag. Tonight, she had plans.

Steam fogged the bathroom mirror as she showered, hair twisted up, robe cinched snug around her waist. A knock came just as she tied it tighter. Dinner, his favorite Thai. She tipped the delivery kid, laughing as one terrier nearly slipped out the door. "Menace." She set the bag aside. Later.

From the boutique bag, Hazel lifted the panties, lace, sheer enough to make her blush at her own reflection. Mark loved her in pajamas and T-shirts, but tonight she wanted to look different. To tell him without words that she was proud.

She slid them up her thighs, smoothing the lace at her hips. Her fingers found the tiny stitched button. A faint vibration hummed to life, and she bit her lip. "That's a fun trick."

A touch of makeup framed her smile. Then his engine. That familiar growl pulling into the lot made her chest tighten. She hurried, scooping up the dogs and tucking them in the back room. "Sorry, boys. Not tonight." Their barks muffled behind the door as she leaned against the counter, humming inside and out.

Mark barely got through the door before Hazel was on him. She tugged his belt loose in a flick, eyes flashing. Dropping to her knees, she freed him.

Her lips wrapped around him, sliding him deep in one steady stroke. Her throat tightened, a wet sound slipping out before she steadied herself, palms firm at his hips. She pulled back with a gasp, lips wet, then took him again slower, savoring the weight, the heat, the stretch.

Mark groaned, knuckles whitening on the counter, chest rising fast. His eyes fixed on her, Hazel kneeling, hair spilling, lace snug on her thighs, the faint hum buzzing between her legs.

She eased back, tongue tracing him, then swallowed him deep until her eyes watered. A sound broke loose, half cough, half moan, that made him shudder hard above her.

"God, Hazel..." His voice cracked, his hand threading into her auburn hair. He wasn't guiding, just holding, like he needed the proof she was real.

She smiled around him, pressing deeper, eyes watering but refusing to let go. The vibration at her core matched the rhythm of her mouth.

At last she let him slip free with a gasp, wiping her lips as she rose. She bent over the counter, lace stretched across her hips. Looking back with daring eyes, she whispered quietly, "Fuck me, Mark. Right here."

He didn't need telling twice. He yanked the lace down just far enough, his hand brushing the button hidden at her seam. The vibration surged. Hazel jolted forward with a cry.

Mark groaned and drove into her in one deep thrust. Hazel's palms flattened to the counter, breath torn from her as he filled her.

The climax tore through her instantly, a sharp ripple that clenched her around him. She moaned, body shaking as the release rolled through. He gripped her hips, pulling back only to thrust again, harder, syncing with the hum of the toy and the pulse of her orgasm.

Hazel's cries broke into ragged gasps as the waves crashed through her while Mark drove her against the counter. Flowers sat forgotten on the stove, dinner cooling in its bag. All that mattered was his body against hers, the solid wood under her chest, the reckless heat between them.

Her legs trembled. "Wait... don't come yet. I have a surprise." Her laugh cracked between moans as she steadied herself. "God, I didn't expect that. Fuck, Mark, where's that been all along?"

He chuckled against her neck. "You were naked, beautiful, and there was Thai food. I got... kinda excited."

Hazel giggled, thighs pressed together as warmth rolled down her leg. "Okay," she wimpered, "just... don't come yet."

She slipped him free, shuddering at the sudden emptiness, then caught his hand. "Come here." Guiding him to the couch, she sprawled across the cushions, legs open, eyes gleaming. "You always joked this was your fantasy..."

Mark froze, chest rising, staring down at her.

"Go ahead," Hazel said, voice low, sure. "It's alright. I want to see you. I usually can't."

He hesitated, then wrapped his hand around himself, stroking slow, her eyes locked on him.

"Mmm, yes baby," she purred. "Come all over me. On my tits, on my stomach, everywhere."

His pace quickened, breath breaking as his body tensed. "Hazel... I'm..."

"It's okay," she urged, arching up. "Just go."

With a groan, Mark erupted, heat spilling across her breasts, streaking her stomach, her thighs. Hazel twitched at the rush, giggling as she caught her breath. "Wow... you were certainly hydrated." She ran a fingertip through the mess and licked it, playful.

Mark laughed breathlessly, shoulders shaking. "Damn, Hazel. That was... amazing."

She leaned her head back on the couch, sticky and glowing, smile still teasing. "Hungry?"

The shower steamed. Hazel worked shampoo through her hair while Mark's hands slid over her back, down to her hips. She squeaked when his fingers dipped lower.

"Again?" she teased, breathless as he pressed her against the glass.

He lifted her easily, wet skin sliding as she wrapped her legs around him. She gasped when he pushed inside, head tipping back against the wall.

"Mmmm," she moaned, biting her lip. "Not enough for you?"

Mark groaned into her neck, thrusting hard, body still primed. He didn't last long, shuddering as he spilled inside her, warmth rushing down her thighs under the spray.

He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her throat, voice ragged. "Hazel, we're never going to get to that food if you keep this up."

"Maybe I don't want to," she moaned, ankles tight around him.

Two hours later, Hazel leaned against Mark on the couch, sheer nightgown clinging to damp skin, lace panties back in place. The coffee table was cluttered with cartons and plates.

She tilted her head. "What's our record for most times in a day?"

Mark answered instantly. "Catalina. Three years ago. Three times. Gotta count the 5 a.m. wake-up."

Hazel laughed, covering her face. "God, yes. Cabana door wide open. Everyone on the beach was watching. They clapped when you came."

Mark flushed, shaking his head. "I remember."

"You bowed." She poked him.

He groaned. "Where are the boys? Did you sell them?"

"No one would buy them. They're sulking in the other room."

They laughed. He kissed her temple. "I really loved my date tonight."

Hazel grinned. "Oh, baby... we aren't done yet."

His brow arched. "Since when are you this horny? Usually you're an every-other-night kind of..."

"Fuckbuddy?" Hazel gasped, mock outrage flashing. She smacked him with a pillow. "I wasn't your fuckbuddy when you plowed me in the shower."

Mark caught the pillow, laughing hard. "Okay, okay. Not a fuckbuddy."

Hazel climbed into his lap, smirking. "Damn right. And if you play nice, maybe we'll break that record tonight."

The bedroom glowed soft from the hall. Hazel sprawled across the bed, nightgown tossed aside. She giggled when Mark entered with a bottle of wine.

"Get your boxers off," she teased. "Fuck me. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." He stripped quick, climbing onto the bed.

She spread for him, kissing hungrily as his weight pressed her into the mattress. His thrusts were strong, her nails dragging his back.

"Pace yourself," she gasped. "We need a fourth round."

He laughed, but his pace only quickened, pushing her higher until she clung to him.

Later, chest heaving, Hazel tugged him sideways. "Not done," she murmured, crawling over him with a sly grin. She lowered herself until his mouth found her, his hands locking her firm. Their rhythm built until his breath went ragged.

"Hazel..." he warned, but she only hummed.

His body tensed, muscles locking, and then he burst. Hazel held on, lips sealed, eyes fluttering shut as the rush filled her mouth. She shivered at the taste, steady until he finished, his hand clamped on her thigh.

She drew back slowly, lips wet, chest rising fast. Mark collapsed beside her, trembling, dragging her into his arms.

Hazel laughed softly, brushing her lips across his. "Not the record yet," she teased. "But we're close."

She drifted off in his arms, the cooking channel humming faintly. Mark smiled at her dream-ramble, new towels, mocha cappuccinos, nonsense lists.

At three a.m. he stirred, tucking her under the blanket when she murmured about "tires in the pasta section." He paused, just watching her, the curve of her shoulder, hair mussed from sleep.

Mark slid back into bed. Hazel reached for him even in dreams, draping an arm across his body.. He kissed her forehead, smiling in the dark. Tomorrow they could sleep in. Tonight he let himself savor the quiet, Hazel wrapped warm around him, soft, entirely his.

Mark stirred at something warm nipping his ear. He groaned, rolling over, only to meet the eager face of their terrier.

"Ruff!"

He blinked, half laughing, just as Hazel slipped in behind the dog. "Pockets! Out! You'll wake..." She froze at his open eyes. "Oh. Sorry. Left the door open." She scooped the wriggling pup up, his legs bicycling as she backed toward the hall.

Mark smirked. "I was hoping it was a better one nibbling my ear."

Hazel paused, mouth curving. "I could... if you're interested."

"I'm very interested."

She popped Pockets out, shut the door, then slinked back. "Really? You sure you're up to it?" she teased, drawing out the words. "Up. To. It?"

Mark's hand slid under the covers. "Yep. Definitely up."

"Raarrr," Hazel growled playfully, crawling in. Her hand slid into his boxers, fingers wrapping tight. "Mmm... very much up. And you know... I think I see the finish line for that record."

Mark kissed her hard, cutting off her laughter. She melted into him, tugging her panties down in the same motion, aligning herself. Sunlight leaked through the blinds as she swung a leg over, giggles breaking into moans as she sank down slow.

She teased first, grinding against him, making them both shiver. Then she kissed him deep, guided him inside, and squeaked at the push of his hips.

She shifted, slipping her legs inside his so he could knot around hers, his favorite. Entangled, knotted close, every inch pressed together. Hazel let him set the rhythm, breath catching as his hands cupped her ass, pulling her down hard with each thrust.

He lifted, then drove her down again, Hazel's moans rising as her orgasm built. He held her there, teasing her edge until she finally broke.

"Mmm... Mark... please, let me have this..."

He grinned against her mouth, then gave it to her, no more holding back. Hazel cried out, trembling as climax tore through her, clutching his shoulders as wave after wave shook her body.

The sight of her, the sound of her, tipped him over. Mark groaned, burying deep as he spilled inside, holding her tight while she still shook.

They collapsed tangled and breathless, morning sun striping them gold. Hazel softened against him, cheek to his chest, listening to his heart steady beneath her ear.

She leaned close, whispering with a laugh, "Victory. New record."

Mark groaned into her shoulder. "I need liquids..."

The day rolled on soft and slow. Hazel ordered pizza, declaring a strict no-leaving-bed rule except to pay the delivery guy. They lounged in rumpled sheets, half-watching TV, trading bites, napping in each other's arms.

Hazel thought it was the most memorable day they'd had in years. Pockets and Pick curled against their legs, loyal and warm, never leaving their side.

As evening blurred into night, Mark pulled her close, voice low and unguarded. "I love you, Hazel. You make me better. You make this feel like home."

She pressed herself to him, arms wound tight, smile hidden but wide. "I love you too," she quietly said, certain.

The TV flickered across their tangled bodies, the world outside quiet and far away. As they drifted toward sleep, it felt like nothing could touch them. Like love itself was enough.