R-18: SUNSET SPREAD

The wind curled off the sea like it was carrying secrets. Warm, wild, and alive — it lifted strands of Sera’s hair as she leaned on the balcony, watching the waves break against jagged cliffs far below.

The sky was molten. That brief sliver of day when everything glowed gold — even the shadows. And for a moment, the world felt hushed. As if the universe itself paused, holding its breath.

She felt it before she heard him.

The shift in air. The weight of his gaze. The slow, deliberate sound of bare feet on the stone floor behind her.

Luca.

He didn’t speak. Just stepped behind her, close enough that his heat pressed against her back without touching.

He finally spoke, his voice low, textured with sleep and want.

“You’ve been quiet today.”

“I didn’t want to waste any words,” Sera said, turning her face slightly toward him. Her lips curved. “They don’t always come back.”

Luca chuckled under his breath — one of those rare, soft sounds she secretly lived for. His hand brushed her hip. Light. Testing. Like he didn’t want to break the spell of the moment, only bend it slightly in his favor.

“You keep standing there like that,” he murmured, “and I’m going to start worshipping you like some sun-drenched goddess.”

She arched a brow but didn’t move. “You say that like you haven’t already.”

That did it.

He stepped closer, pressing his chest fully to her back, arms caging her against the glass as if the world beyond them didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. Not here. Not with the wind tasting of sea salt and freedom, not with the horizon melting into fire and light, and not with the ache that had been simmering low between them since this morning — since she stepped out of the outdoor shower in nothing but a towel and a smirk.

“You make it hard to be a gentleman,” Luca said against her ear.

Sera smiled, slow and dangerous. “You’re not a gentleman.”

“No,” he agreed, hands now skimming along her stomach, “I’m not. Not with you.”

The first kiss was reverent. A brush of his mouth against her shoulder, his nose tracing the slope of her neck. She sighed, tilting her head, giving him more. And once she did, he took everything.

Luca kissed like he needed to memorize her — slow, focused, unhurried. His fingers slipped beneath the loose fabric of her dress, sliding along warm skin and salt-kissed curves. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

As the last light of day slipped into dusk, they stood there—half-clothed, half-mad with want. His hand found her thígh, then higher. Her breath caught. She leaned back into him as his mouth returned to her neck, his voice low and ragged.

“I’m going to make you come with the sea watching.”

Sera laughed, breathless. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He answered by slipping two fingers between her thíghs.

Her gasp was soft, almost swallowed by the sound of the waves crashing far below. But Luca heard it — felt it — like a match to dry kindling.

His fingers didn’t move right away. They just rested there, teasing, warm against the slick heat of her. His mouth was still on her neck, and when she tilted her head again, inviting more, he took it with a groan that felt like it came from somewhere deep in his chest. One hand slid up, curling around her throat — not tight, just there, a firm reminder of possession.

“Stay still,” he whispered.

Sera laughed — breathy, smug. “Afraid I’ll break?”

“No. Afraid I won’t stop.”

She bit her lip, but didn’t challenge it. Didn’t move. Just let her body respond — leaning further into him, hips twitching slightly when his thumb finally brushed against her clít. Just once. Just enough to make her legs tremble.

Luca slid his other hand inside her dress, palming her bréast. His fingers found her nípple, already hard, and rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger while his teeth grazed her neck. She whimpered — not just from the touch, but from the control. The slow, unbearable way he built her up, holding her hostage in her own skin.

Her hips shifted, searching for more, but he stilled her with a low growl and a sharp squeeze to her throat.

“I said still.”

That voice. Low. Commanding. Like honey over gravel.

“Then do something about it,” Sera said, barely above a whisper, her voice already wrecked.

He did.

Luca turned her gently but firmly to face him, backing her up until her àss bumped the edge of the balcony. The sunset cast firelight over her cheeks, made her eyes look like molten gold. Her lips were parted, kiss-bruised from earlier, chest rising and falling like she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

God, she was beautiful.

And she was his.

He sank to his knees.

Her breath caught.

“Luca…”

“Shhh.” His hands slid up the backs of her thíghs, pushing the dress up with them. “Let me.”

She clutched the railing behind her as he kissed the inside of one thígh, then the other — teasing, reverent. She was already trembling when he finally leaned in and pressed his mouth where she needed him most. Tongue slow, deliberate, savoring her like the finest wine in Italy couldn’t compete.

Sera gasped and moaned, head tipping back to the sky. Her knuckles turned white against the glass railing as his tongue circled her clít, lapped at her slowly, then fast, then maddeningly slow again. One arm looped around her thígh to anchor her, the other hand spreading her open for him like he didn’t just want to taste her — he wanted to devour her.

He was murmuring something into her skin, between strokes of his tongue — praise, filth, her name like a prayer and a curse. She couldn’t hear the words clearly, but she didn’t need to. The way his mouth moved told her everything.

And when she finally broke — thighs shaking, voice catching on a shattered moan — he stayed there, holding her through it, mouth gentle again, until she was too sensitive to bear it.

When he rose to his feet, lips slick and eyes dark with hunger, he looked like sin incarnate.

“You ready for me now?” he asked, voice wrecked.

Sera didn’t speak.

She just grabbed his face and kissed him like she was going to drag him to hell with her.

She was still trembling when he pulled away from her mouth, both of them breathless and ruined from just the foreplay. But Luca wasn’t done. Not even close.

He looked down at her, at her flushed cheeks, kiss-bitten lips, and the way her legs rubbed together unconsciously, aching for more. And then he looked over her shoulder—past the edge of the balcony, to the shoreline below.

Tourists again. Three of them. Maybe twenty meters down the cliff path. Close enough to hear a moan if the wind felt gossipy.

A wicked thought passed behind his eyes.

He met her gaze, voice low. “Stay right here.”

Luca spun her around slowly, chest to the railing now, arms braced on either side of it. The breeze kissed her bare thíghs as he lifted the hem of her dress again, exposing her completely to open air. She gasped, but didn’t stop him. Not even when he tugged her hips back, angled her just right, and dropped to one knee behind her again to press a final kiss between her legs—like a benediction before the fall.

She móaned helplessly, already shaking.

“You’re still dripping,” he murmured, standing again. “You want them to see you like this?”

Sera swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t…”

But she was already arching her back, presenting herself to him in the warm evening light.

“Oh, I would,” Luca whispered, lining himself up. “And so would you.”

And then—he pushed in.

She gasped, loud and shameless, the stretch of him stealing her breath and making her eyes roll back. His hands grípped her hips, hard enough to bruise, but his thrústs were slow. Deep. Measured. Like he didn’t care who heard or saw—only that she felt every inch of him.

The ocean roared below. A gull screamed above.

And footsteps.

Closer now.

Sera clutched the railing so hard her knuckles went white, body rocking with each stroke. She turned her face slightly to the side and caught a glimpse—just a blur of movement down the winding cliff path. A man. A woman. Another couple. Far enough to be safe. Close enough to make her pulse slam into her throat.

Her knees nearly buckled.

“Fvck—Luca…”

“Let them see,” he growled in her ear, one hand snaking around to her front to rub tight circles against her clít. “Let them hear how this pretty little pvssy takes me.”

She sobbed a móan, chóking on it, hips jerking wildly now as he slammed into her just a little harder, still deep, still slow, but with more hunger. His other hand came up to gríp her throat from behind, tilting her head back so he could kiss her cheek, her ear, her open mouth as she gasped for him.

"You like the idea, don't you?" he hissed. "You love being fvcked in the open like a good girl with no shame."

She couldn’t deny it. Her móans came faster now, more frantic, no longer caring if anyone heard. Her órgasm built like a storm inside her — sharp, brútal, beautiful. The sound of the ocean. His voice in her ear. The stretch. The threat of being seen.

She came with a cry, her whole body trembling, hands barely able to hold her up as he fvcked her through it. And then he was following her—grunting her name, fvcking deep, spilling into her while his hands branded her waist.

They stayed there a moment, both draped over the railing like waves crashing into the cliffside—sweaty, gasping, high off lust and the thrill of public sin.

Below, the tourists kept walking.

Above, they stood like gods who’d gotten away with it.

Sera laughed breathlessly, head tipped back against his shoulder. “We’re terrible people.”

Luca kissed her neck. “We’ll repent in the shower.”

Pause.

“No,” she said, glancing back with a smirk. “You’ll fvck me in the shower.”

He grinned.

“Yes, ma’am.”