Foursome - Episode 9

Miami in summer feels like someone left the heat on too long. The air presses heavy against skin, thick enough to taste. Rafael meets me at the airport wearing linen pants and the kind of smile that makes promises. His hand finds my waist as he guides me through the terminal and I feel the warmth of his palm through thin cotton. "She's waiting," he murmurs against my ear. Outside, the city pulses with color and noise—palms heavy with fronds, white buildings catching light like broken mirrors. Their condo sits high above the water, floor-to-ceiling glass turning the ocean into another wall of the bedroom. Sofia opens the door wearing almost nothing, a scrap of silk that barely covers her nipples. Her kiss tastes like rum and lime. Behind her, Lucas watches from the balcony, shirt unbuttoned, skin already flushed from the heat. When he joins us, the four of us stand pressed together like we're trying to share one breath. Hands move without asking permission. Sofia's fingers slip between my thighs, testing. Rafael's mouth finds the back of my neck while Lucas kneels to work my shoes off with surprising patience. The marble floor stays cool under bare feet even as everything else burns. "Bedroom," someone says. Maybe me. The sheets are white and crisp when we fall onto them, a tangle of limbs and mouths and the sound of the ocean through the open doors. Four bodies move like they've done this before, like they already know exactly where each hand should go.