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“What do we have, Finn?” The question slips from my lips before I can stop it, before I can shield myself from the answer.
His gaze doesn’t waver. It darkens, deepens—stripped bare and trembling. “Somethin’ I cannae fathom livin’ without.”
“I—”
The word has hardly passed my lips before a loud crash reverberates through the air, echoing from the archway just behind us. The sound is sharp, jarring, cutting through the tense bubble of energy between us.
I step toward the source of the sound, peering cautiously around the corner. Finn follows, his presence an unshakable shadow, standing far too close behind me.
My breathing quickens as my eyes lock on the scene before us. I should feel shame from witnessing such intrusion. I should shut my eyes and turn on my heel, but I don’t. I can’t.
Past the archway, a man has a woman pinned against the stone wall, his hands possessive, his body flush with hers in a tangle of urgency. A fallen case of wine lies at their feet, shattered bottles bleeding red into the stone like an afterthought—unnoticed, unimportant. His shirt is gone, discarded in a careless heap nearby, baring a back carved with muscle and slick with sweat.
Their bodies writhe against one another as the man’s hands work with swift efficiency, pulling the woman’s dress up past her thighs, exposing her olive complexion to the dim light. Her back arches against the rough surface of the wall as his fingers dig into her with a possessive grip.
In one fluid motion, he releases himself from his trousers, the urgency in his movements leaving no room for subtlety or decorum. Their breaths, heavy and uneven, echo faintly in the surrounding space.
He grips her firmly, hoisting her up against the wall with an eager desperation. She responds by wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, anchoring herself to him as their bodies meld together in an unrestrained display of passion.
There’s no hesitation, no thought of their surroundings—only raw, unbridled need. I hear the moment he enters her, both of them releasing breathless, broken moans that spill into the quiet corridor like a confession.
The man groans low, praise spilling from his lips in a broken whisper. “Por todos os santos… you take me like you were made for me.” His voice is thick with hunger, extolling in a way that feels all-consuming.
“Tão apertada… tão boa, meu amor.” He presses deeper, his breath rough against her skin. “You were carved from sin—meant for nothing but this.”
His movements are brutal in their rhythm, driven by a desperation that feels almost feral. With each thrust, he lets out a guttural sound—low, hungry, ragged. The wet slap of skin against skin echoes in a rhythm too primal to ignore, their bodies colliding with wild abandon.
As he moves against her, the woman’s hands slide to the bodice of her dress, pulling it down in one swift motion to free her breasts.
He moves from sucking her bottom lip, tongue, and neck to flick his tongue against her nipple. She hisses as he takes her into his mouth, only letting go to suckle roughly over that silky soft flesh.
“Harder,” she pants. “Take me like you mean to ruin me, meu amor. Fill me full. Leave your name written beneath my skin.” Her words come out in broken gasps, her toes curling, eyes rolling back as he angles her neck to the side to bite the flesh just above her collarbone.
He says nothing, his only response a growl that vibrates through the air as her nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake.
She brings two fingers to his mouth, and he eagerly sucks on them. Without hesitation, she trails that hand downward, her fingers sliding between them to meet him at her core. Her movements are deliberate, teasing, and he lets out a ragged breath, his control unravelling further with every touch.
“You love being wicked to me, don’t you?” His voice is low, dripping with dark amusement as his grip on her hair tightens. From where I stand, it looks almost painful, as her head is pulled back at a sharp angle.
So why is it arousing to me?
The question burns in my mind, unsettling and impossible to ignore. Heat rushes through my body, a mixture of shame and fascination pooling low in my belly. I hadn’t known it could be like this—so raw, so unrestrained. The intensity of it holds me captive, even as my cheeks flush and my breath comes quicker.
When the man speaks next, his voice is commanding, dripping with raw seduction. The intensity coils in my chest, so overwhelming that my hand drifts to my throat, as if to steady myself.
“Quero ver tudo—cada tremor, cada suspiro. Watch the way you unravel for me… the way your soul reaches for mine when you break.” His voice is dark, molten, a command wrapped in silk. “And when I do, I’ll spill so deep inside you, you’ll still feel me long after I’m gone.”
Her screams tear through the air, the sound so intense it gives me chills.
“When you’re still trembling, still catching your breath, I’ll press you over this barrel—claim you all over, slow and relentless, until the memory of me lingers in every part of you. Até não haver dúvida nenhuma de quem é que você pertence.”
A few final thrusts, and their cries of release tear through the air, echoing in the stillness like something sacred and profane all at once. I finally turn away, shame crawling hot beneath my skin. My cheeks burn, my heart pounds, and an aching discomfort twists in my chest—because I lingered. I watched for far too long, held captive by something so visceral, so private. And now I can’t unsee it. Can’t undo the way it stirred something in me.
I don’t make it far. A strong hand catches my elbow, halting my escape before I can slip away.
My body betrays what my mind refuses to admit. My nipples tighten against the fabric of my dress, and between my thighs, a slow, aching thrum pulses in time with my racing heart. With Finn so close, his hand lingering at my elbow, every thought and sensation courses through me in a flood I can’t control.
“Tri…”
