The chill in the morning air left Anna's cheeks rosy pink and her nose chapped, a feeling she had oddly come to love as she strolled the quiet neighborhood streets of her small cul-de-sac lined with maple trees beginning to lose their leaves. The house felt strangely empty, even if the cul-de-sac was anything but, and she had to remind herself that it was only temporary. Three months offshore was enough to make it feel like she was returning to a brand-new life, a different world.

Anna welcomed the solitude when she was away, but felt an ache within her chest every time she stepped back onto her small property, which should feel like the definition of home after each shift on the oil rig. Yet, the quiet felt too loud.

Shaking off her thoughts, she pulled her fuzzy coat tighter around her and stepped inside the cozy coffee shop beckoning from a few houses down. The warmth wrapped itself around her like a cashmere blanket; the quaint interior was like a gentle embrace she had so missed.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee made her eyes heavy, excited to indulge herself in the simple pleasure after weeks of Valium-filled nights. The low hum and mingled pitter-patter of the chatter filled her ears, and she smiled, in awe of its calming sensation.

Anna greeted the barista with customary pleasantries while ordering her favorite latte, adorned with Minnie Mouse foam like a playful wink. While waiting, a figure caught Anna's eye; it was a man, intriguingly handsome, who fixed his attention on her.

She studied his sculpted jaw, angled just so, betraying the faint confines of a smirk, and his eyes—crystal blue, seemingly ignited by the radiating heat from the nearby ovens. She noticed the gentle waves of his shoulder-length blond hair, the way each tress curled so effortlessly. He was striking, a stark contrast to the shy, mumbling men she typically met back on the oil rig.

The aroma of a strong, dark roast snapped her out of her stupor.

Michael. That was his name; she heard it as he broke the silence between them.

"I beg your pardon?" Anna Swedish massage her brows in question as the heat climbed to her cheeks. He flashed her a breathtaking smile, dimples and all. The intensified allure had her questioning whether he was some sort of devil in disguise, or perhaps a long-lost memory from her dreams.

Michael laughed lightly. "I asked if I could join you. I promise I don't bite."

A delicious shiver ran down Anna's spine as she looked into his mesmerizing blue eyes, her heart skipping a beat as she felt an odd mix of anticipation and hesitation.

"Um, sure. Please, have a seat," she stammered, her cheeks flushed.

Michael unexpectedly leaned in close, placing his warm, calloused hand on hers.

"You have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen," he whispered lazily, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Anna inhaled sharply, her body quivering from the heat of his breath. Before she could respond, his lips met hers, soft yet demanding. He was the kind of man she'd only fantasized about while tossing alone in her bunk bed offshore.

She couldn't help but unload the burden of her wants onto Michael. She craved the sensation of human contact, to be claimed, if only for a while. And Michael seemed more than willing to comply.

Without breaking their deepening connection, he guided Anna from her chair, away from the quaint bubble of the coffee shop, and into the cold, autumn air.

The leaves crunched beneath their hurried footsteps. The crisp wind didn't stand a chance against the rising heat between them as they stumbled onto Anna's front porch, limbs tangled.

Michael reclaimed her lips in an urgent, I-need-you-now brand of kiss that shook Anna's very core.

She melted into his arms, reveling in his rough yet tender touch. Her hands fought to explore the contours of his muscular upper body, to learn the short, crisp hairs coating his sculpted chest. Her fingertips played with the cold silver chain that nestled in the valley between his sculpted pecs, bearing the weight of his golden crucifix.

He fumbled with the keys she had unknowingly dropped, and all the while, his lips never wavered their intense but deliberate onslaught.

He coaxed her mouth open, and his tongue thrust in, dancing with hers. Her breath hitched at the taste of the coffee on his tongue, a shockingly intimate sensation.

Once inside, Michael kicked the door shut and grabbed Anna's waist, hoisting her up so fast that she gasped. The suddenness of the action would normally have fueled uncertainty, but Michael caught her eyes, unwavering and radiating focus. Heat victoriously pooled deep within her, melting her apprehensions.

With another groan, Michael pressed her back hard against the cold, unforgiving walls of the house. Her sharp intake of breath at the contrast of her back to the rough, brisk feel of his chest against her breasts.

Anna's heartbeat quickened with every flick of authored his tongue, every conquest of her mouth. He had an animalistic possessiveness that intoxicated her, made Anna yearn for him to entreat every inch of her.

She didn't want to deny him anything - needed more of his insatiable taste, craved the feeling of his hands stripping her naked.

"Please," Anna gasped out, trembling with anticipation, meeting Michael's intense gaze. "I want you now."

And just like that, he ripped away her coat, almost violently tearing her shirt open. Cold air hit her skin, but she barely felt it. The only thing swirling in her mind was Michael's body against hers, inside her.

He dropped her back onto her feet and hurriedly kicked off his shoes, prying her flannel pants down her legs. Their hearts raced, as they both struggled to get naked; clumsy, gasping for air, and unable to tear their eyes away from each other.

With a feral growl, Michael bent over, pulling Anna's legs apart, leaving her spread wide open.

"You're so fucking wet," he panted, biting her lips gently.

"So ready for me."

His words echoed in her ears as Michael's fingers trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire behind, stopping at the clasp of her lacy bra. With a flick of his wrist, her breasts spilled out into the cold autumn air, but they quickly warmed as Michael's hot mouth reclaimed them.

He worshipped her body like a starved man, seemingly desperate for her taste, her moans, her warmth. Anna writhed under his lips, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Fuck me already," she hissed. Her hasty words bouncing off the walls, infused with a newfound carnal craving.

Without a word, Michael stood up, sliding his hand down her inner thigh; she shivered. His long, thick finger wasted not a second, plunging deep within her core. She cried out, a guttural sound erupting from her throat, half-surprised at the suddenness of his invasion.

A garbled mix of pleasure and pain escaped her, but Michael didn't stop, didn't slow his relentless assault.

With one final wrench, her trousers joined the rest of their scattered clothing, forming a trail that demarcated their desperation to be together. As if accepting a divine offering, Michael dropped to his knees, kissing her thighs reverently before diving into the slick folds between her legs.

Anna's breath hitched, jolting through her like electricity.

Michael's tongue, hot and demanding, found her clit easily. She moaned, hips bucking wildly as he attacked her sensitive nub, teasing her with the firm stroke of his tongue and the occasional flick of it over her.

"Fuck!" she yelled, fingers clawing at his hair. "Don't stop, please!"

Spurred on by her pleas, Michael began assaulting her pussy with demanding licks and sloppy sucks.

Michael's tongue, hot and demanding, found her clit easily. She moaned, hips bucking wildly as he attacked her sensitive nub, teasing her with the firm stroke of his tongue and the occasional flick of it over her.

"Fuck!" she yelled, fingers clawing at his hair. "Don't stop, please!"

Spurred on by her pleas, Michael began assaulting her pussy with demanding licks and sloppy sucks.

The sensation consumed her, building to an inferno in her core. Never had she felt so cherished, so out of control, so desperate.

"Please, Michael!" She screamed, nails digging into his scalp. But he wasn't going to let up until she came, and she knew it. "I'm going to -"

And she did. Closing her eyes, Anna succumbed to the white-hot tidal wave that crashed over her trembling body.

She screamed, toes curling and hips writhing. Her thighs tightened around Michael's head, but he just sucked harder, that impossibly talented tongue still lapping at her clit.

The climax left her weeping, gasping for air, her fingers no longer able to clench onto him; instead, they slid helplessly-boneless and limp-onto the bouquet of tiled floors.

Shivering, she finally forced her eyes open, emergency lights flickering through the sweat-sheened darkness that clung to the room.

Michael knelt between her legs, lips glossy with her juices. He was a beautifully filthy manifestation at that moment, the devil who owned her body and soul.

Her breasts heaved as she studied Michael's powerful frame, muscles rippling under his inked skin. The silence around them was primal-charged, crackling with the lingering echoes of her screams.

Without warning, Anna slid her hand between them, grazing her fingertips over the outline in Michael's jeans. His pupils dilated, and she smiled in satisfaction.

Boldly, she gripped his cock through his pants, giving it a firm squeeze. He hissed in pleasure, and his hips bucked reflexively.

"Fuck, Anna," he ground out through gritted teeth.

She relished that power, and with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she said, "Beg for it, Michael."

"Goddamn it, Anna. You want me to beg?" He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.

The slight tremble of his lips betrayed his need and his desperate attempt at control. Michael's eyes blazed with lust, but he hesitated, his pride prohibiting surrender.

A sinful grin quirked up Anna's lips, and her fingers tightened on his cock. "Maybe later," she breathed, before leaning forward to press her lips possessively to his.

Her other hand found the button of his jeans, and in one swift motion that spoke of years spent undressing in cramped offshore quarters, she released the button and slid down the zipper.

Michael's cock, hard, and heavy, leapt free. A drop of precum beaded at its tip, the dark head flushed and shining with arousal. The scent of him, musky and male, hit her senses hard, and she inhaled deeply, savoring it.

She needed no further invitation. In a quick, fluid motion that betrayed her experience and familiarity with such things, she wrapped one hand around his length and leaned forward.

Michael threw his head back with a guttural groan as she ran her tongue from base to tip, the taste of salt and musk exploding on her tastebuds. Michael grabbed at her hair, raking his fingers through the strands like a desperate man.

"Take me, Anna," he begged, voice raspy with need. "Fucking take me, now."

She hauled herself to her feet, shuddering at the loss of his warmth, and turned away from him, looking over her shoulder with a feral grin.

Amidst the chaos on the floor, she managed to catch sight of a queen-sized bed. The cruel smile never leaving her lips, she tugged on his arm, yanking him toward the unmade sanctuary of tangled sheets and used pillows.

"Lie down," she commanded, voice low and sultry, more a promise than a request.