flora
The towel lands and, for a split second, Flora’s pulse spikes—memory flashes of polished boots thudding onto deckboards and a low drawl calling her love that she does not want replaying today. Then the figure resolves into tanned shoulders, a cartoon-shark tank, and a mango-yellow grin she recognises. Relief floods in, chased quickly by wicked delight.
Kaisel looks like LongHeat distilled: sun-glazed skin, loose ombré trunks clinging in all the flattering places, dark hair mussed by sea wind. Even the sweat beading at his collarbones seems to sparkle for effect. Torchline should charge tourists to watch him walk the dock, and yet there’s something undeniably and adorably out of place about seeing him crossed-legged on her boat.
”The Sugar Tide welcomes you aboard,” Flora purrs, letting the towel slide away so the orchid pasties and glistening oil reclaim centre stage. Kaisel might not be interested in her as anything more than a friend, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t entitled to making him squirm just a bit. She rolls onto her stomach beside him, elbows propped, feet kicking lazily over her ass. The scars on her shoulder catch the sunlight like pale lightning, unapologetic and shimmering as Flora peers up at Kaisel.
She rests her chin on folded wrists and coquettishly tilts her head, aqua eyes wide and pleading. ”Share? Just a lick?” Her lower lip juts in an exaggerated pout before curling into a grin. ”Complimenting my choice of name only gets you minimal benefits—frozen mango earns you my eternal gratitude.”
A hand sweeps toward the stained-glass sails overhead. “Also, I’m almost ready for her first proper flight with two souls on board. You brave enough to tag along? I promise the view’s spectacular.” Pausing for just a moment, if the movement of Flora’s shoulders just happens to make her cleavage look even more enticing, what of it? ”Above the clouds, I mean.”
Kaisel looks like LongHeat distilled: sun-glazed skin, loose ombré trunks clinging in all the flattering places, dark hair mussed by sea wind. Even the sweat beading at his collarbones seems to sparkle for effect. Torchline should charge tourists to watch him walk the dock, and yet there’s something undeniably and adorably out of place about seeing him crossed-legged on her boat.
”The Sugar Tide welcomes you aboard,” Flora purrs, letting the towel slide away so the orchid pasties and glistening oil reclaim centre stage. Kaisel might not be interested in her as anything more than a friend, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t entitled to making him squirm just a bit. She rolls onto her stomach beside him, elbows propped, feet kicking lazily over her ass. The scars on her shoulder catch the sunlight like pale lightning, unapologetic and shimmering as Flora peers up at Kaisel.
She rests her chin on folded wrists and coquettishly tilts her head, aqua eyes wide and pleading. ”Share? Just a lick?” Her lower lip juts in an exaggerated pout before curling into a grin. ”Complimenting my choice of name only gets you minimal benefits—frozen mango earns you my eternal gratitude.”
A hand sweeps toward the stained-glass sails overhead. “Also, I’m almost ready for her first proper flight with two souls on board. You brave enough to tag along? I promise the view’s spectacular.” Pausing for just a moment, if the movement of Flora’s shoulders just happens to make her cleavage look even more enticing, what of it? ”Above the clouds, I mean.”
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
