Salt and Sand

I knew I shouldn't be here. Lena texted me three months ago, out of the blue, after seven years of silence. "I'm in town. Same hotel we always went to. Come see me." I deleted it twice before I finally answered.

Now I'm standing in the doorway of room 207, and she's wearing nothing but a thin white robe. The sea air drifts in through the open balcony doors, mixing with her perfume. She hasn't changed. Still that same crooked smile, still those eyes that always knew exactly what I was thinking.

"You look good, Mark."

"Lena... you're married now."

She steps closer, unties the robe. Lets it fall. "He doesn't know I'm here. Doesn't need to."

"I can't."

"You can." She takes my hand, places it on her breast. Soft. Warm. Her nipple hardens against my palm. "You already drove three hours. Don't pretend you came here to talk."

I push her against the wall. My mouth finds her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. She moans quietly, fingers tangling in my hair.

"Fuck, I missed this," she whispers.

"Shut up."

I lift her, carry her to the bed. She's already wet when I slide my hand between her legs. Her pussy is slick, hot, welcoming. She gasps when I push two fingers inside.

"God, yes. Don't stop."

I pull my cock out. She reaches for it, strokes me slowly, deliberately. Her thumb circles the head.

"Been a while since anyone but me touched this."

"Been a while since I wanted anyone to."

She guides me inside her. We both groan. She's tight, so fucking tight, and wet, and perfect. I sink into her inch by inch until I'm buried to the hilt.

"Fuck me," she says. "Fuck me like you used to."

I do. Hard. Fast. The headboard slams against the wall. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulls me deeper. Her nails dig into my back.

"Harder."

I grab her hips, pound into her. She's moaning now, loud, not caring who hears. Her eyes are closed, mouth open, hair spread across the pillow.

"I'm close," she breathes.

"Not yet."

I slow down, pull almost all the way out, then push back in. Tease her. She whimpers, tries to fuck back against me.

"Please, Mark. Please."

I flip her onto her stomach. Grab her hips, lift her ass. Enter her from behind. This angle is deeper, tighter. She cries out.

"Yes, yes, right there, don't stop—"

She comes hard. Her whole body spasms, and I feel her clench around me. That's all it takes. I bury myself deep and let go, pumping into her, groaning through the wave of it.

After, we lie tangled in the sheets. The balcony doors are still open. I can hear the waves.

She traces patterns on my chest. "That was..."

"Yeah."

"Don't feel guilty."

"Who says I do?"

She laughs. Soft. "I know you, Mark. You're already thinking about how wrong this is."

"Aren't you?"

She's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Maybe. But I don't regret it."

I turn to look at her. Her eyes are wet, but she's smiling.

"Will you stay?" she asks. "Just for tonight?"

I pull her closer. "I'll stay."