You lean back against the cold metal of the garage door, your heart pounding in your chest as Eric's hands roam over your body. The dim light from the single bulb overhead casts shadows across his rugged face, making his eyes smolder with a hunger that both terrifies and excites you.

"You know what happens when you come here," he murmurs, his voice deep and rough, like the engine he spends his days fixing. His fingers trace the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "You belong to me tonight."

The air is thick with the scent of oil and sweat, a heady mix that fuels your desire. You nod, unable to speak, your throat dry with anticipation. He smiles, a wicked glint in his eye, and pulls you closer by the belt loop of your jeans.

"Take off your shirt," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. You obey, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing the lace bra beneath. His gaze burns into you, making your skin tingle.

"Turn around," he orders next, and you do, facing the grimy wall of the garage. He presses himself against your back, his hardness poking you.

"You like this, don't you?" he whispers hotly in your ear, his breath sending waves of pleasure down your spine. You can only moan in response, your body betraying your mind's protests.

He chuckles, the sound dark and amused. "I knew you would. You're mine, always."

His hands move down, sliding under your jeans to grip your ass firmly. You gasp, your legs trembling under his touch. He pushes your pants down, exposing you to the cool night air.

"Spread your legs," he demands, and you comply, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks apart. You bite your lip, waiting for what comes next.

He spits on his fingers, the sound disgustingly intimate in the quiet of the garage. Then, he presses one inside you, making you arch your back with a silent cry. He works it in and out, preparing you, while you grip the edge of the workbench for support.

"Ready for me?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. You nod, too far gone to speak. He stands, pulling his own jeans down, freeing his erection. You feel him line up behind you, his tip teasing your entrance.

"Tell me you want it," he growls, his patience wearing thin. You manage a strangled "Yes," desperate for release. With one hard thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. You cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you.

He starts to move, each stroke harder than the last, slamming into you with brutal force. You cling to the bench, your body rocking with his, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Look at me," he commands, pulling out slightly to make you turn your head. You meet his gaze, his eyes wild with passion. "You're mine, remember that."

You nod, your vision blurring with tears of ecstasy. He slams back into you, his pace increasing, driving you both towards the edge. You can feel it coming, the wave building inside you, ready to crash.

"Come for me," he grunts, his voice strained. That's all it takes. You shatter around him, your body convulsing with release. He follows soon after, collapsing against you, his breathing heavy in your ear.

For a moment, there's silence, just the two of you catching your breath. Then, he withdraws, leaving you empty and aching. He zips up his jeans, already retreating back to his detached indifference.

"Same time next week?" he asks nonchalantly, as if nothing significant just happened. You pull your pants back up, feeling used and yet, still craving more.

"Yes," you whisper, knowing you'll be here again.