Secret Retreat - Episode 7

She stepped inside the villa and found him already waiting on the terrace, backlit by the fading sun. Naked from the waist up, skin still damp from the pool. She crossed the room in silence, dropped her robe, and met his mouth with a slow, deliberate kiss that told him exactly what she wanted. He didn’t ask. He lifted her onto the table, spread her open with his hands, and buried his tongue between her thighs like he’d been thinking about it all afternoon. She gripped the edge of the wood, thighs shaking, while he worked her with long, filthy strokes—sucking her clit, fucking her with his fingers, moaning into her like he could come from the taste alone. When she was close he stood, shoved his swim trunks down, and pushed inside her in one smooth thrust that knocked the breath from her lungs. She locked her legs around his hips. The table creaked under them as he fucked her hard and steady, one hand fisted in her hair, the other pressing low on her belly so she could feel every inch of him. She came first, loud and shaking, and he followed seconds later, spilling deep with a groan that sounded almost grateful. Afterward they stayed like that, breathing each other’s air, sweat cooling on skin, the sea still murmuring outside like it hadn’t noticed.