CHAPTER 2 - Fevered Moments, Lasting Echoes
The room thrummed with the weight of their recklessness, its air thick with tequila's sharp sting, the musk of sweat, and the primal tang of their lust. Ryan's chest heaved, skin ablaze as he stared down at Fiona. She lay sprawled beneath him, flushed and fragile, her breasts shimmering in the dim light, streaked with the hot, slick proof of his release. A bead glistened on her cheek, catching the glow like a lewd promise. Her hazel eyes burned into his--wide, wild, brimming with raw hunger and a shadow of defiance. His throat clenched. *No way back now.* Yet beneath the guilt, a fierce tenderness flared, searing his chest. He leaned down, lips claiming her cheek in a slow, possessive kiss, then growled, "I'll get something to clean you up." He peeled himself from the damp sheets, legs shaking as he stumbled to the bathroom. Cold tile shocked his feet as he snatched a washcloth, soaking it under the faucet until it dripped with heat. Then he paused--a box of condoms peeked from a toiletry bag, their foil glinting like a taunt. *Fuck it.* The ache for her overpowered reason. He grabbed one, the wrapper crinkling in his fist, and strode back.
Fiona lay waiting, her lithe body splayed across the bed, hair spilling over the pillows in a dark, silken wave that caught the lamp's glow. Her chest rose fast, desire still simmering in every breath. He dropped to his knees beside her, the warm cloth trembling in his grip as he dragged it over her skin. It grazed her breasts, wiping away their sticky heat; her nipples hardened instantly, puckering under the slow, wet glide, sending a jolt straight to his groin. He traced the arch of her neck, then her face--cheekbones sharp, jaw soft--each swipe stoking the fire in his veins. She sighed, low and needy, her lashes fluttering shut, and it hit him like a punch, reigniting his cock. Brushing a damp strand from her cheek, he met her gaze as it snapped open, sharp and electric, her eyes daring him to take more.
He flung the cloth aside, its heat bleeding into the nightstand, the condom tight in his hand. She smirked--faint, filthy, knowing--and he crashed his mouth to hers, tasting sweat and sin as he ripped the foil open. Fingers shaking with raw want, he sheathed himself, then eased her onto her back. Her head sank into the pillows, thighs falling open as he settled between them, their skin brushing with a delicious spark. He pushed into her, slow and deliberate, her tight, molten heat swallowing him inch by agonizing inch. Pleasure ripped through him, a white-hot surge that made his breath catch. She gasped, spine bowing off the bed, small hands clawing his arms as he filled her completely. He thrust deep and steady, the bed creaking under them, each stroke dragging a shudder from his core. Her pussy clenched around him, slick and perfect, driving him wild. Her hair fanned out, framing her flushed face--lips parted, breath hitching--her nails carving into his skin, begging for more.
Minutes in, he pulled out, hands gripping her hips. "Turn over," he snarled, voice thick with need. She flipped onto her stomach, rising to her knees with a fluid, teasing grace. Her ass lifted, round and firm, a sight that made his cock throb painfully. He seized her hips, fingers digging into her warm flesh, and plunged back in. The new angle was tighter, deeper, her walls gripping him like a vise. Pleasure exploded up his spine, raw and overwhelming, as he thrust hard. She moaned--loud, shameless, the sound bouncing off the walls--and it fueled him, his hips snapping faster. Her heat pulsed around him, slick and intoxicating, every plunge a dizzying rush. He fisted her hair, tugging gently, and she arched back, amplifying the angle, her cries spurring him into a frenzy of skin-slapping abandon.
