Last Package Of The Day

Francis is kicking back on the couch, feet up, when a knock rattles the door. He hauls himself over and swings it open—bam, there's Peach Lollypop, bike courier goddess, holding a package with that easy smile. 'Delivery for you, handsome,' she says, and he grins right back. 'Perfect timing.' She tilts her head. 'Anywhere special to drop this off?' He nods toward the living room floor. 'Right over there works.' Peach steps inside, hips swaying just enough to tease, and bends over to set the package down—ass pointed straight at him like an invitation. Those tight bike shorts hug every curve, making her cheeks pop in the flirtiest way, round and begging for a squeeze. Francis can't peel his eyes away; he's hooked, staring hard because damn, she's a knockout. Still arched low, Peach glances back and catches him red-handed. Her lips curl into a wicked grin, eyes sparkling with heat—she's loving the attention, turned on by his straight-up nerve. 'Hey, no more runs left today,' she purrs, voice dripping mischief. 'Mind if I stick around? We could make some fun of our own.' Francis's pulse races; hell yeah, he's all in, ready to dive right into that naughty detour.