7: The Vacation Fling

Chloe shifted against the wall, her legs beginning to tingle from sitting so long on the floor. But she didn’t care. The diary had her captive now. Every turn of the page pulled her deeper, every story a doorway into another woman’s hidden life.

This one was marked in darker, heavier ink, as if the writer’s hand had been trembling with urgency.

“Episode 4 – The Vacation Fling.”

Chloe licked her lips unconsciously and began to read.

….

She was twenty-six when it happened. Her friends had convinced her to take a summer trip to Greece. She had never been outside the country before, never done anything wild, and she swore to herself she wouldn’t be that girl who had a fling abroad.

But then she met him.

The air in the small Greek bar was thick with the scent of salt and jasmine, a heady mix that clung to her skin like a second layer. She sat at the bar, her fingers wrapped around the cool glass of ouzo, her heart pounding in her chest. His gaze had been a constant presence over the past week, a silent observer that both thrilled and terrified her. Every night, his dark eyes would lock onto hers, holding her captive in a wordless conversation that left her breathless.

Tonight, the bar was empty, the shutters drawn, casting the space in a soft, intimate glow. Her friends had long since departed, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the man who had become an obsession.

He moved with the grace of a predator, his tall frame sliding behind the bar with an ease that belied his size. His deep, rumbling voice broke the silence as he spoke, his words a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine. “Another drink?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

She nodded, her throat too dry to form words, and watched as he poured a glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking against the sides.

He slid the drink toward her, his fingers brushing hers, and a jolt of electricity shot through her veins. The heat was instantaneous, a fire that pooled low in her belly, mirroring the burn of the liquor as it slid down her throat.

She took a sip, the strong taste of aniseed filling her mouth, and set the glass down, her hand trembling slightly. He stepped closer, his presence dominating the small space, his hand resting on the bar beside her. His scent enveloped her, a heady mix of musk and citrus and she felt her resolve begin to melt.

Without a word, he turned and gestured toward the door, his eyes daring her to follow. She hesitated for only a moment before standing, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. The night air was cool against her skin as they stepped outside, the silence between them thick with anticipation.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone streets, the only sound the distant hum of the sea.

They stopped in front of a weathered wooden door, its paint peeling from years of salt and sun. He turned the key with a practiced ease, the lock clicking open before he pushed the door wide, gesturing for her to step inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the sounds of the street faded, replaced by the quiet creak of the old building settling around them. The door shut with a finality that made her breath catch. They were alone. No distractions, no escape, just the two of them and the thick, charged silence that hummed between their bodies.

Before she could take another breath, he was on her. His hands gripped her waist, spinning her until her back hit the wall with a soft thud. His mouth crashed against hers, his kiss anything but gentle, a claim, a demand, a promise of what was to come. His lips were firm, his tongue hot and insistent as it swept into her mouth, tangling with hers in a dance that left her dizzy.

She moaned into him, her fingers curling into the thick, sun-bleached waves of his hair, pulling him closer as if she could merge their bodies right there.

His hands roamed down her back, tracing the curve of her spine before gripping her hips, yanking her against him so she could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her stomach. A whimper escaped her throat, her body already aching for more.

He broke the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, gasping as his teeth grazed her collarbone before his mouth closed around the sensitive spot where her pulse fluttered wildly. One hand slid up to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her dress, his thumb brushing over her nipple, already hardened into a tight peak.

She arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. His other hand worked at the buttons of her dress, fingers deft as he undid them one by one, the cool air kissing her skin as the fabric parted.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against her throat, his voice rough with need. The dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist, leaving her upper body bare to his hungry gaze.

His eyes darkened as they raked over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the rosy tips already taut with arousal. She shivered under his scrutiny, her nipples tightening further, her skin prickling with anticipation.

He didn’t make her wait. His mouth descended, capturing one peak between his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh before he sucked hard, drawing a sharp cry from her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, his free hand kneading the soft flesh, his touch both possessive and reverent.

He pulled back just enough to tear his own shirt over his head, revealing a chest sculpted by years under the sun, broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a light dusting of dark hair that tapered down into the waistband of his pants.

She reached out, her fingertips tracing the ridges of his abdomen, the heat of his skin searing her touch. He groaned, his muscles tensing under her exploration, his erection straining against his trousers.

Without a word, he took her hand and led her toward the bed, the sheets rumpled and slightly damp with the warmth of the evening. She sank onto the mattress, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the fire burning through her veins.

He followed her down, his body hovering over hers, his weight pressing her into the sheets as his mouth found hers again. This kiss was slower, deeper, his tongue exploring her with a leisurely thoroughness that made her toes curl.

His hands slid down her body, pushing her dress the rest of the way off until she was naked beneath him, her skin flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. “You have the body of a goddess… I could worship it for hours,” he murmured against her thighs. “If I could paint desire, it would look like you.”

She spread her thighs instinctively, her body already begging for his touch, her pussy throbbing with need.

His fingers trailed down her stomach, over the soft curve of her hips, before dipping between her legs.