we show off our different scarlet letters
His warning hits her like a spark to dry kindling—her name, hissed low and sharp—and her breath catches, lashes fluttering as if something physical has struck between them. She nearly moves then, every muscle primed to shift, to tilt her hips just enough. Just the thought of it—of him hard and ready, her wet and aching—it would take nothing to slide him inside her. Nothing but permission even if it would be torment. But for a moment, just one, they'd both find some measure of satisfaction that might make it worth it.
Her body wants to, but he’s faster. His arm hooks under her, lifting her with practiced ease, and she exhales a sharp, startled breath that unravels into a tense, giddy laugh as he pulls her closer. Her grin is wild and breathless, her teeth catching her lip just as his mouth finds her skin.
When his lips and teeth graze the inside of her breast, she shivers like the sea’s crawled inside her bones, legs tightening around his waist as her back arches instinctively to feed him more. Her hand stays tangled in his hair, the other scrabbling to steady herself against the raft, but the world is tipping and tilting and fuck she doesn’t want to be steady anymore.
Her eyes flick over his shoulder toward the beach, the sound of her breath trembling as she swallows. "There are people," she murmurs, voice soft but edged with thrill, "who take advantage of the dark during LongNight. Who like to..." Her gaze drags back to his, bright and wicked beneath the dark. "Watch the things couples get up to in the dark."
Her fingers slip from his hair to his cheek, brushing along the edge of his jaw, her thighs still firm around him as her body pulses against his. "If we went back," she whispers, mouth brushing close to his, imagining his hands grasping her hips as her knees dug into the sand, "someone would see." Her smile lingers, bold and breathless, but her eyes soften as they meet his; still not pushing, not pressing, just offering. A crooked shrug lifts her shoulders against him, the brush of her nipples featherlight beneath the water, teasing and warm.
"If not," she murmurs, voice lilting with mischief again, "I’m pretty sure I can keep you from drowning out here...so long as you can hold onto the raft with at least one hand." Her hand glides down his back, fingers tracing salt-slick muscle with knowing ease. With how hard he is, and with the way he still had a teenager's endurance when it came to sex, she’s pretty sure it wouldn’t take much. Just the right angle, the right pressure, and he’d come apart at the seams. Her lips skim the corner of his mouth—not quite a kiss, just a promise of one—letting him decide if a brief foray into voyeurism was worth it to properly fuck her, or if fooling around in the ocean was a more bearable compromise.
Her body wants to, but he’s faster. His arm hooks under her, lifting her with practiced ease, and she exhales a sharp, startled breath that unravels into a tense, giddy laugh as he pulls her closer. Her grin is wild and breathless, her teeth catching her lip just as his mouth finds her skin.
When his lips and teeth graze the inside of her breast, she shivers like the sea’s crawled inside her bones, legs tightening around his waist as her back arches instinctively to feed him more. Her hand stays tangled in his hair, the other scrabbling to steady herself against the raft, but the world is tipping and tilting and fuck she doesn’t want to be steady anymore.
Her eyes flick over his shoulder toward the beach, the sound of her breath trembling as she swallows. "There are people," she murmurs, voice soft but edged with thrill, "who take advantage of the dark during LongNight. Who like to..." Her gaze drags back to his, bright and wicked beneath the dark. "Watch the things couples get up to in the dark."
Her fingers slip from his hair to his cheek, brushing along the edge of his jaw, her thighs still firm around him as her body pulses against his. "If we went back," she whispers, mouth brushing close to his, imagining his hands grasping her hips as her knees dug into the sand, "someone would see." Her smile lingers, bold and breathless, but her eyes soften as they meet his; still not pushing, not pressing, just offering. A crooked shrug lifts her shoulders against him, the brush of her nipples featherlight beneath the water, teasing and warm.
"If not," she murmurs, voice lilting with mischief again, "I’m pretty sure I can keep you from drowning out here...so long as you can hold onto the raft with at least one hand." Her hand glides down his back, fingers tracing salt-slick muscle with knowing ease. With how hard he is, and with the way he still had a teenager's endurance when it came to sex, she’s pretty sure it wouldn’t take much. Just the right angle, the right pressure, and he’d come apart at the seams. Her lips skim the corner of his mouth—not quite a kiss, just a promise of one—letting him decide if a brief foray into voyeurism was worth it to properly fuck her, or if fooling around in the ocean was a more bearable compromise.
