"I don't have patience. Patience is for people who aren't dying to feel you—oh, fuck." Her words fractured as his hand dipped between them, fingers sliding through her slick folds, circling her clit with deliberate pressure. "Okay, that's—yes, that's so good, but I want?—"
"What do you want?" His voice was gravel, eyes locked on hers, dark with lust.
"You." She cupped his face, nails digging in as she forced his gaze to hers. "Buried inside me. Now. Please stop being a goddamn scientist about this."
Alex barked a rough laugh. "A scientist?"
"You're cataloging every reaction. I can tell. Just—" She shifted, aligning him at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging her wetness, and they both hissed at the electric contact. "Let me take you."
She sank down onto him inch by torturous inch, enveloping him in tight, velvet heat. A guttural groan tore from his throat, his head falling back.
"Fuck," he rasped, hips bucking involuntarily.
"That's the idea." But her voice trembled, strained, her nails carving crescents into his shoulders as she stretched around him, taking every thick inch.
They locked into rhythm fast—too fast, like their bodies were made for this filthy dance. Lily rode him with bold, grinding rolls of her hips, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, while Alex's hands claimed her: palming her ass, guiding her harder, his mouth latching onto her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he could mark with bites and sucks.
"You feel like sin," he growled, words punched outbetween thrusts. "So tight, so wet—every damn time. How are you always this perfect?—"
“Shut up, Alex.” She crushed her mouth to his, swallowing his words in a bruising kiss. “And just fuck me.”
She was right. For once, Alex shut off his brain and let instinct take over—the primal need to claim, to drive into her until nothing else existed.
He flipped them in a blur, pinning her beneath him, and Lily's wicked laugh morphed into a keening moan as the new angle let him plunge deeper, filling her completely. Her legs hooked around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him in with every snap of his hips.
"Yes—right there—harder, don't you dare stop?—"
He wouldn't. Couldn't. His pace turned brutal, skin slapping against skin, one hand braced by her head, the other slipping between them to rub her clit in relentless circles that had her writhing.
"Alex—" Her voice soared, body arching, movements frantic. "I'm gonna?—"
"I know, baby. Give it to me.” He could feel her insides tightening, his own release coiling like a spring at the base of his spine. "Let go. Now."
She exploded with a scream—his name ripped from her lips—as her orgasm crashed over her, pulsing around him in vise-like waves that yanked him into oblivion. Alex buried his face in her neck, thrusting through the fire as he spilled inside her, groaning her name like a prayer against her sweat-slicked skin.
They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, breaths ragged, hearts thundering in sync, neither moving as the afterglow hummed through them.
"So," Lily murmured eventually, voice deliciously wrecked, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, "that's how you scorch the sheets in the morning."
Alex chuckled against her shoulder, nuzzling her damp skin. "No complaints here. None."
"Didn't think so." She stretched beneath him, cat-like and sated, her body still trembling faintly. "I could get addicted to this."
So could I, he thought, and for the first time, the idea ignited him instead of burning him down.
It probably shouldhave.
The days blurred together after that.
He didn’t think it was possible but he lost track somewhere around Wednesday—or was it Thursday?—when time started measuring itself in moments instead of hours. Morning coffee on the porch, shoulders touching.
Afternoons in the water, Lily filming as he explained things about his research. Evenings cooking together in the tiny kitchen, bumping hips and stealing tastes. Nights tangled in sheets that smelled like salt and sex and something that felt dangerously close to belonging.
The emergency radio still crackled with updates about the weather system—holding steady, not intensifying, but not dissipating either. The supply boat company was "monitoring conditions." Which meant their timeline remained a question mark.
Alex tried not to think about it.
He was getting good at not thinking about a lot of things.
