Aria moved like a torch song, as if her body were all one, fluid continuum of sinew and flesh.  She was hanging wet laundry on the line between the rear corner of the villa and the date palm at the edge of the cobbled driveway.  She was wearing the kind of bikini that rode her curves like it was constantly trying to catch up with the motion of her body.  Today it was a turquoise string bikini that stood out in stark relief against the deep mahogany of her complexion.    

When she bent down to pick an item out of the basket, her breasts leaned with her gestures like pudgy ballerinas.  Her ass oozed around the edges of the scant bottom while her boldly conspicuous mound formed a coy pout as she took her sweet time choosing every item, as if the laundry had to be hung out in just the correct order.

She was sublime, but Thorne couldn’t shake the feeling there was a nasty little fire burning inside.  That much sweetness and sin weren’t supposed to fit in the same place.  She could tilt her head to listen to something he had to say – with her supple lips pursed and that probing curiosity she’d always had in her mocha-colored eyes – and he’d find himself getting lost in the middle of sentences.  Back when she’d been one of the top-performing graduate students under his wing at the university, he often wondered if her penetrating looks and accidental brushes were genuine taunts or if his vulnerable mind had only been playing tricks on him.

Aria had been at the villa almost a week, and he’d barely let her out of his sight.  He felt an irrational dizziness whenever she was nowhere to be seen.  The feeling should have worn off by now, but he’d done nothing but indulge it without shame.  Yet in the back of his mind she was still his fresh-faced young protégé.  She was off limits like a heart attack.

She finally straightened up and tossed a sheet over the line.  Her hair fell past her shoulders in loose ringlets as she smoothed out the folds in the sheet.  She brushed a strand behind her ear and turned her face to the side, not quite looking back all the way.  There was a half-smile on her lips when she turned back to her work.

Watching Aria arrange the white fabric over the line sent Thorne spiraling back to the dream that had awakened him at four in the morning.  It was the kind where you dream you’re lying right where you are, as if you’re dreaming in real-time.

Guttural moans were a velvet knife slicing the silence.  Aria.  Soft whispers and hard sighs.  In her own bed just across the hall.  Doors carelessly flung open.  Her sighs of lust made his cock engorge with steaming blood.  He listened and stroked his hardening flesh with a steady hand.

He rose naked from his bed and padded across cool, terracotta tiles to her doorway.  The sheet was tented over her raised, wide-spread knees.  The edge draped around her hips.  Proud breasts gathered like mounds of exotic fruit between her down-thrust arms while dancing fingers stoked liquid flames in her pussy.  Petals flushed and wet.  Shaven and fresh.  Her body’s deepest secret.  Dainty and forbidden.  Sweet as the cloying scent of smoldering opium.

She cooed long and low and turned her head on the pillow to look Thorne in the eye before her gaze shifted down to the hungry erection jutting toward her.  She looked at his eyes again and let the tip of her tongue moisten the circle of her open lips.

Thorne slow-fisted his fat stalk with lazy need as she watched.  Fingers and dome swimming in precum.  Aria mewled and started squirming as her pleasure spiked.  He walked to her bed, never skipping a stroke as he reached for a corner of her sheet and slowly pulled it away with the other hand.  Her eyes glittered like onyx as she taunted him with wet fingers in a spider dance across her honey-lacquered slit.

Her pussy was so vivid, so…detailed.  So scarlet.  Stark relief like something he’d seen before in his conscious life.  Even the air was redolent with her body’s spicy perfume.  His cock strained, oozing steadily as he constantly stroked, constantly aware of her penetrating eyes, breasts rising and falling as she breathed, lips slightly parted, nipples swollen into dark nubs.

“Don’t you want to fuck me…Professor Thornnnnnne?” she purred, sleek as a wild feline.

“Yes,” he rumbled – fist pumping, cock aching so hot and hard – “but we’re not allowed.”

“Don’t say that.  Just fuck me…pleeeeeeze?  Turn me into something else.  Something that isn’t so wrong.”  Her insistent pout alone made him want to hammer his cock like the hooves of sprinting thoroughbreds.  “My fingers are good, but your cock would feel sooo much better.”

“I’m your professor, baby girl.  We’re not allowed to want each other so much.  If we fuck once, for sure we’ll fuck again.  And probably again and again.  It would be irresponsible.  Unethical.”

“That’s not fair,” Aria whined, sliding a finger deep inside her bald nest of lips and flesh.  “I love my pussy and you will, too.  Baby, I know you will.  Ooh, it just feels better than anything.  Just take it.  Make it yours.  Taste it.  Fuck it.  Cum in it or on it.  Anything my big, bad professor wants.”

“Geezus, fuck, it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then just let me taste your cock a while, Professor Dewright.”

“Pretty sure that’s not allowed, either.”

Thorne watched the mesmerizing young woman slide a second finger into her pussy next to the first.  Her open thighs shimmered like dark silk, the distended pout of her mound calling him, taking him down to his own demise.  Her eye was on his cock-stroking hand as she matched his pace with the pump of her fingers.

“Then fuck my ass.  Fuck it like it’s yours and it will be.  Always.”

“Oh, baby…your professor’s not allowed to fuck your ass…no matter how much my cock burns for that sweet little bud.”

“C’mon, take it hard.  I need you to brand me with your cum.”

“That’s definitely not allowed,” he growled.

He got on her bed and knee walked toward her, until the tip of his cock was dangerously close to her pussy.  He felt the sensation of her body heat flowing into him.

The only thing that held him back from trashing the rules and pushing his cock into her sumptuous pussy was the fascination of watching her please herself.  Her entire, heavily curved body was quivering.  Her classic beauty squeezed into a grimace as her need drove harder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned.  “Like some kind of slut-princess.”

Thorne pumped his cock harder.  Sweat broke over his skin while his breathing grew deep and ragged.

“I can be your slut-princess,” she whimpered.

She drew her soaked fingers out to batter her engorged clit.  Her legs rose higher, splitting her cheeks, bringing her puckered rim into the open.  A low rumble rose from Thorne’s throat staggered by gasps.  Jolts of electricity fired through his body.  Somehow, he managed to keep his aim steady enough to angle his jetting cum across Aria’s flayed pussy.

Thick dollops spattered her clit while her rapidly thrumming fingers smeared his froth as fast as it surged against her mound.

“Oh fuck, professor!” she cried, digging her feet into the mattress and lifting her ass in the air as she shuddered and cried out.

Suddenly, Thorne realized it was only him crying out.  He woke up to find Aria’s name pouring out of his mouth in a series of strangled groans while his cock was still jetting cum across his chest and abs.

He didn’t realize a wet dream was even possible at his age.

He fell silent and listened, afraid he could’ve awakened Aria, but everything was still.  He got up and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.  He paused to watch rivulets drip down the craggy features of the man in the mirror.  He wondered who it was.

Taking another minute to clean himself up, he crossed the hall and stood halfway in his star protégé’s bedroom door, hiding his nakedness in case she was awake.  She’d been lying on her side, facing the opposite wall, covered to the shoulder with the sheet.

Finding her asleep, he shifted into the doorway and leaned against the frame, no longer seeing a need to hide his nakedness.  He listened to her breathe.  He thought back on his dream, but then he thought of the reality of her.  Silent feet carefully padded to the other side of her bed where he could watch her sleep.  Her face was a mask of perfect calm.  What would she say if she suddenly opened her eyes?

*

“Thorne!  Did you hear a word I just said?”  There was a faint ring of her Angolan background still present in her accent.  She was finished hanging the sheet.  The basket was empty.

“Uh…yeah, of course,” he shrugged.

She put her hands on her hips and smirked.  The motion caused a sudden rippling of her prominent breasts.

“Okay,” he grinned sheepishly.  “Maybe you caught me daydreaming.”

“Hm.  Must’a been some dream.”

He smiled wistfully.  “It was.”

Her eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“Well,” she finally got back to what she’d been saying, “I don’t know how you expect to operate a resort without normal appliances.  Really, I don’t even remember the last time I had to wash dishes by hand.  This is practically everything you taught us not to do.”

“I guess you didn’t expect to end up making use of your hotel management degree washing dishes and hanging laundry,” he chuckled.  “Besides, it’s only half a dozen holiday efficiency apartments.  It’s not like there’s gonna be dozens and dozens of people to worry about.”

“Fortunately,” she said, “the kitchen sink drain is clogged or six years of university education would be running down it.”

The hands on her hips balled into small fists while she gave him a mock sneer.  It curled her full-bodied lips in a way that made his throat feel plugged full of cotton.  Her bikini looked more like the faint suggestion of a garment than an actual garment, and Thorne almost felt like he was being scolded by a pole dancer.  He could suppress the laugh but not the smirk.

“Look,” he added, picking up the empty basket and throwing his arm around her shoulders, “I really didn’t mean for you to come here and end up doing all these chores.  I can hire someone for that.”

He was walking her toward the entrance to the two-story section of the building where the main living quarters were.  He felt a sudden clench in her body at the mention of hiring someone else.

“No you don’t!  You’re not even close to being open yet.  Besides, I really don’t mind.”

“At least the equipment is on order.  Things just don’t work too fast here,” he said, ushering her into the shady kitchen.

“In the meantime, you have me to take care of those things.”

Aria looped her arms around him while he dropped the basket and brought his other arm around her shoulder.  They held onto each other and smiled through a silent pause, redolent with everything Thorne couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.  Her breasts bunched against him.  They were impertinent and fleshy.  He’d known and worked with her throughout her last two years in the grad program, and in all that time he’d imagined over and over what it would feel like to hold her this way.  Sometimes he wondered if his supposedly strict professional ethics were just an excuse to avoid the avalanche of desire and affection just waiting to fall and bury him.  Anyone else and he would have kissed that luscious mouth like sucking candy.

“Like a Tarzan and Jane kind of thing?” he smirked, trying to lighten the tension inside.

“If you make me dress like Jane then you have to dress like Tarzan.”   Her eyes narrowed again but they had a playful glimmer now.

“Actually, you make Jane look like a nun,” he muttered without thinking.  “Oops.”

He gave her a sheepish look she answered with a satisfied grin.

“I can take this off, if you want,” she purred suggestively.  “Maybe you wanna punish me for breaking the dress code…professor.”

“I would,” Thorne swallowed, “but there isn’t a dress code.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?”  Her bare thigh slid between his legs, just a little bit of pressure to the right.

“No, no problem,” he nearly croaked.  Her thigh felt like a river of unrefined honey flowing between his legs.

“Besides,” Aria went on, a natural hint of song always so present in her voice.  “Jane was kind of scrawny and pale, don’t you think?  I always thought Tarzan needed a more…substantial…kind of woman.”

“Then it would’ve been a very different kind of movie,” Thorne replied in measured tones.

“Hmm, yes, I think so,” Aria smirked, a sparkle flashing in her dark eyes.  “But…would it be romance or a fuck story?”

Thorne instantly wished she hadn’t said the ubiquitous F word.  It caused her to deftly slide her teeth over her bottom lip, and the way she enunciated the K sound at the end with her mouth halfway open made him feel like wisps of steam were rising off his skin.

“Maybe a little of both,” he finally said, against his better judgment.

An awkward pause followed, but neither made a move to let go.  They just kept looking at each other, waiting to see whatever was next.  Thorne was afraid it was only a matter of time before his consciousness of her as a woman would overpower everything.  Every time he looked at her he was sure she had the power to make the earth spin backward.  This was the young woman he saw now, and yet he still saw the trusting, bright-eyed coed who sought his opinion and advice on seemingly everything she could ever find an excuse to ask about.  The glimmer in her eyes seemed to flicker into a glow like he’d seen in his dream.  His cock churned with heat.  Her breasts moved against his body with a sigh that sounded like a plea.

“He was fucking her, you know,” she half purred.

“Um…?”

“Tarzan, silly.  He was fucking Jane.  They never let you see it in the old movies, but you know they were fucking like a pair of cats in heat.”

Her smile dared him to contradict her.  The sound from her delicate throat was somewhere between a giggle and a devilish snarl.  He wanted to kiss her so much he was afraid of imploding.

Thorne started laughing.  Then he laughed some more, and a little harder.  Aria started laughing, too.  Her face opened up like a gust of wind through citrus groves, and she seemed to be moving everywhere at once as her body shook with giggles.

They laughed hard for a long time, as if the Tarzan and Jane thing had really been that funny, but really because there was nowhere else for what was building inside them to go.  The press of her sweet breasts heaved against him as she threw back her head and giggled without restraint.  Suddenly, every plug of gristle he was made of collapsed around the burning coal at the center of his life.

He lowered his head and kissed her throat as she laughed, but her laughter stopped instantly as her head came down to offer her mouth.  He kissed her like she was every woman he ever wanted to kiss but never could all in one body.  He gripped the sides of her waist while she sucked his tongue like a piece of living candy.  The surge of heat in his cock spread through his body and he groaned into her mouth.

She was his, dammit.  Wasn’t he entitled to her?  What else was a man supposed to do with a beautiful young woman he was in love with?  Shouldn’t this be his just reward for guiding her?  For nurturing her sharp, mercurial mind?  Was there even a difference between love and lust?  He slid his hands up her ribs and let his thumbs graze over the curves of her breasts, tracing the smooth flesh spilling around the edges of her bikini.

Aria’s thigh pressed up tighter in his crotch, encouraging the hot, rapid swell of his cock.  Her hands moved under his T-shirt, caressing his heaving ribs and along the taut outer rim of his firmly tensed abs.  His thumbs ground against her gathered nipples, and her hands moved to the front of his pants and started to open them.

Then Thorne imploded again, releasing her mouth and grabbing her wrists to stop her.  There was only one way the scenario of her hands on the bare flesh of his aching cock could end, and he would never find his way out from underneath the rubble.  Too young, too smart, too fucking beautiful.  He looked at her, wanting to apologize, but the words sounded pitiable as they took a practice run through his mind.  He stroked her face a few times with the back of his hand and let her go.

The room suddenly felt small and he made the move to leave.

“Thorne?” she said, stopping him in the doorway.  “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“No, I didn’t realize that,” he said without turning around.

***

Aria’s bones practically rattled as she fought the urge to follow him upstairs.  She was even a little angry with him for walking away and not finishing what he started.  Or was she the one who’d started it?  Maybe she should be angry with herself.  Maybe it was just as useful to be angry with the sea for starting the wave rushing in to sweep them down.

She went to the sink and grabbed the plunger she’d left there earlier.  She held the red plastic handle like she wanted to choke it and clamped the big rubber cup over the drain.  She started pumping air down the pipe and tried not to think about what the gesture reminded her of.  It made her breasts quiver until she ached for the needful touch of Thorne’s hands.

It hadn’t been love at first sight.  She hadn’t been one of those star-struck coeds enthralled by every word out of the handsome professor’s mouth, but she’d always admired and respected him.  He had an off-hand magnetism about him that served him well in his former role.  She hadn’t been the only pretty coed who looked up to him, and there were more than a few she’d stopped to wonder if he might have broken his ethical code and fucked.

In the end, the answer she always came up with was no.  If he had ever been willing to take that scandalous step with one of his own students, it would have been her.  She knew it.  Sensed it.  By the end of her time, there was something undeniable between them.

She felt a cloying dampness in her tight bikini.  Her mound was puffy and warm, as if her mentor’s body heat had jumped inside her through his lips.  He’d kissed her like no one ever had.  Others had kissed her as if they merely wanted her, but Thorne’s kiss had been full of grasping need that felt like it came up from the floor beneath him.  When his thumbs gnashed on her nipples she’d wanted to scream into his mouth.  The intense hunger of his mouth had proven every inkling she’d ever had about him to be right.  He and she were a stone inevitability.  His cock had been churning with growth against her smooth thigh, and she was sure the most amazing moment of her life had finally come.

Then the grip of his old habits kicked in and ruined everything.  He suddenly grew an unnecessary conscience and left her there.

A few minutes later, he came downstairs in a pair of shorts and sandals with a towel draped around his neck.

“I’m going for a walk.  Maybe grab a swim at the beach.”  He looked like he wanted to say something else.  She waited to be invited, but he finally walked out without another word.

Aria wished she’d thought of something to say that would stop him, but she knew he needed to be alone.  Even so, she felt a nagging urge to follow.  She watched him walk down the cobbled drive through the window over the kitchen sink.

She dropped the plunger and went out through the other side of the house.  The building was laid out in a large L around a broad courtyard with a large, rectangular pool at the center.  There was a row of lemon trees along the far side.  Aria shed her bikini across the slate tiles, and dove naked into the sparkling water.

She swam aggressive laps until her muscles ached, still tasting Thorne’s tongue and feeling his thumbs cross her nipples in place of the rushing water.  Swimming only made the ache in her pussy deeper and more intense.  She finally got out of the pool and stretched out on a lounge chair.  She planted her feet on either side and let the sun caress her hairless slit.  Her sleek body heaved with the deep breath of exertion, her wet skin glittering like jewels under the palpable touch of the strong, Iberian sun.  Her pussy felt like something dainty and precious, yet feral and demanding.

She caught a nipple between her thumb and index finger while the other hand floated between her soft thighs.  Fingers raked the tender furrow of her swollen lips, peeling them open while she imagined her former professor’s tall, fluid body as he cleaned the pool in something tight and tiny; something that would cling around the clear shape of his prominent cock.  Oh god, how he’d bulge and ripple with hot desire when he looked at her.

She needed him to look at her again like he had just before kissing her.  She’d been more than his former student then.  She’d seen it right there in his eyes.  She was a lush, beautiful woman he couldn’t live without.  Every tingling nerve in her skin yearned for the touch of his loving eyes.

“I am this much,” she growled breathlessly to no one. “And you will recognize before I’m through.”

Drawing circles around her clit with the tip of her finger, something felt wrong with the fact he didn’t even know how sweet she tasted.  It suddenly seemed like something he needed to know.  It was the kind of knowledge people who love need to have.

Her fingers came to her mouth thickly smeared with her honey.  She imagined his lips sucking away the sweetness, his tongue swiping each finger clean.  Her rawest, most abject lust was a hard pearl growing inside her until the day came he would finally take it.  Every day felt like that day.

She slid a straight finger into her pussy.  Gliding strokes.  Another finger.  The echo of a man’s hot cry in the night.  The syllables of her name called out in unguarded desire.  The purity of passionate lust.  The murky vision of his dangling cock through slit eyes as he watched her breathe, never imagining she knew he was there.

Straight fingers pumping harder through a hot, slick core, angling up to her sweet spot.  Graceful hips grinding back.  Pussy like a rainforest.  Shudders emanating from the center of her being.

His voice.

Her pussy.

His cock.

Wet thighs, wet lips, wet need.

Their desire in a collision of racing hearts and shuddering bodies.

Her explosion went off like sparks under her skin.  Her spine arched and she rocked her ravening pussy against her frantic fingers until she was senseless and the air felt like it was staggering in and out of her throat.

Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, but she didn’t.

Leaving the scant pieces of her bikini where she’d flung them, she walked naked into the house, straight up the stairs to his room.  She lay down on his bed, spreading her arms and legs wide across the mattress.  The sheets held the fading musk of his scent.  She looked at the ceiling and breathed in, briefly holding the air.

“Thorne,” she sighed, “where did you go?”

Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep…

…and in the dream that came down, she was lying in her bed across the hall as he stood beside her – awakened from his own dream of her - watching as she pretended to sleep.

But this time he was touching his cock with one hand while he touched her wild hair with the other.  He didn’t take his hand away as she opened her eyes and turned her head up to look at him, her luxurious halo of dark ringlets like a pillow around her face.  A bittersweet smile played on his lips as he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“I have a confession,” he said.

She waited.  She kept her eyes on his face, but in her peripheral vision, she could see his cock growing long and thick in the grip of his stroking hand.

“I didn’t bring you here just to help set things up.”

“Mmhmm…”

“I need you more than I need your help.  After you finished your degree and moved on…something wasn’t right…your not being…close.”

“Mmm…”

“It’s because you’re rightfully mine.  No bullshit, teasing or games.  You belong to me and I belong to you, and it’s time we started behaving that way.”

As he leaned down to kiss her she slipped out his grasp and sat up, pulling him onto the bed in the same motion.  He moved with her easily and she climbed onto his body.  She straddled his thighs, knees hugging tight against his hips, her swollen nipples strutting to the rise and fall of her chest, heaving as if she couldn’t get enough air.

The moment his hands tightened around her hips and slid up her torso to her breasts, she was lost.  Her senses overlapped as he pulled and teased her hard, sensitive nipples.  One hand slid back down to her pussy, slipping along her soaked lips as she moaned with surprise and pleasure.  His fingers danced with her dripping folds while he released his hold on her breast and grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand onto the rippling hardness of his cock.

This was it.  She knew their time had finally come.

With trembling hands, she felt the warmth of his skin, slowly exploring the blunt outline of his cock with her fingertips.  Watching him wince against the strain of his own need, she slowly massaged his flesh, smearing the precum dripping from the head with her thumb.

Soon she was stroking his shank with both hands, wetting him with his own froth, webbing her fingers across his sac as she caressed his balls.  He pulled soaked fingers from her pussy and reached for her breasts with both hands, painting her hard nipples slick with the moisture clinging to his fingers.

Their breath and moans braided together in a rhythm like lapping waves, surging and ebbing to the unmerciful pull of the same tide.  She lifted her hips and ground her slit down the length of his throbbing cock.  Plugging the sap-covered dome of his cock within the snug kiss of her pussy lips, she leaned forward, feeding nut-colored nipples to his open mouth.

He sucked her nipples hard – almost too hard - growling around her flesh as she rolled her hips and swallowed his shaft up inside her shuddering core.  She uttered a low, mewling howl as she rolled back and forth, wringing his cock with her entire body.

 By now he’d licked away the last traces of nectar from her nipples.  He was fucking back against her grinding pussy, surging into her until the sensation of his thrusts spiraled through her body in waves.  Somewhere in the middle of it all he drew his lips away from her nipples and took her mouth.  It would have felt forceful if she weren’t giving it back to him a hundredfold.

His arms whipped around her body and pulled her in, crushing her to him crushing her back.  Aria couldn’t remember being held that way before.  She felt all the energy of his desperation and began losing control over the motion of her hips as she ground against his deeply thrusting cock.

Suddenly she was turning as he rolled, until she found herself back against the mattress, Thorne above, holding, pumping her with hard, voracious thrusts as she wrapped her thighs around his lunging body.  He crushed her breasts under his bared chest and kissed her until they both forgot how to breathe.

Her sheath was slick, his cock gliding through her with forceful momentum as their bodies made the sound of wet fuck-slaps.  No tomorrow, no yesterday, not even a today as her nails dug into the flesh of his back, digging in until there was blood.  She threw her own hunger right back at him, grasping him tighter with her damp thighs, pulling him down into his own spastic pumps.

His groans in her ear set off a spinning delirium in her skull, the revelation dawning on her they could feel this together.  What she’d always known.  What he’d always pretended they wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t.

Every slamming lunge of his powerful cock made her body ripple with pleasure and anguish.  She sank her teeth into his shoulder, trying to hold back, warning him to hold on as her spine arched and she grabbed his strong arms, the sudden waves of an orgasm rippling through her.

She screamed his name, as her pussy burst into wet fire, breasts heaving as he pumped faster and stronger.  Her nails ripped into the flesh of his arms as she gasped, knowing he was riding the waves of her bliss on a collision course with his own.

“Thorne!  Thorne!”

“Aria…”

“Thornnnnnnne…”

And in the moment her vision went blank, he cried out her name again and exploded inside her with hard, gushing jets. A pulsing flood of warmth was all that was left – the sum total of their years dancing circles around each other.  Guarded looks and muttered vows.

When she could breathe again, Aria said, “You’re going to love me now, aren’t you?”

He lifted his head and faced her.  “Can’t you tell?  Haven’t you always known?”

She smiled.

Everything faded as the sound of running water filtered through the layers of her dream.

***

Thorne stopped just inside his bedroom doorway.  Raw silk and perfection lay across his bed.  She was a random sprawl of soft angles and intoxicating curves. Lying against the rumpled, white sheets, she made him think of almonds and snow, yet there was something oddly domestic about finding her like this.  He felt a moment of sweet paralysis to realize her pussy was so much like it looked in his dream.  It was impossible to imagine anything so delicate or scalding.  He wanted to taste her so much it felt like even the walls needed her cries inside them to hold them upright.  It was one thing to watch her sleep in her own bed, but to see her lying there in his – naked as clouds and soft as Iberian midnights – made him feel as if she belonged there.

Everything was for her.

Everything else was for him.

There was a field of soft electricity between them he kept trying to walk the long way around, but she could simply scoop it up in her hands and hold its light in the most natural of gestures.

The curl of each breast begged him to touch her, to explore the luxurious terrain of her body.  Hunger rose through him in waves.  A dam broke inside and now the torrent was rushing through his heart.  He never wanted to see that look of disappointment in her eyes again yet he couldn’t allow himself to be crushed under his own yearning.

He wondered if he should just send her back home and keep them both far from this encompassing temptation.  It was sweeping them into the ozone.  In the end, Thorne hated the idea, and no amount of distance was going to erase this yearning.

He finally went into the bathroom and stripped for a shower.  He stepped into the tub and angled the handheld nozzle over his head, rinsing the tacky sea salt from his skin.  He set the nozzle back on its bracket and shampooed his hair, short and dark, with emerging speckles of gunmetal.  By the time he finished rinsing, he knew he wasn’t alone.  He pulled the curtain aside to find Aria leaning against the sink.  He stood in place, dripping wet as he followed the unmasked movement of her eyes down the length of her body and slowly back up.

He swallowed a throatful of air and let his gaze trace the shape of her shoulders.  Teardrop breasts with rigid, milk-chocolate nipples.  There was a careless, offhand synergy to the way her hips gave way to her thighs and the way her thighs flared upward into the impish pout of her shaven pussy.  She stood her ground as stubbornly as he stood his, defiant and without apology.

“I didn’t mean to send you running off,” she said.

“I sent myself running off.  I’m sorry about…whatever you heard last night.  People can’t control their dreams.”

There was a faint look of anguish under her delicate features.  He made a silent promise never to run off on her again.

“I’m not.  And I’m pretty sure dreams aren’t meant to be controlled.”  She paused over a sigh and took another obvious look at his cock.  “Would it be easier if I just moved into one of the efficiencies?”

“No,” he said immediately.  “I wouldn’t like that at all.”

She looked down, but he didn’t miss the smile.  Finally, she pushed off from the sink and turned to leave, but she paused when she spotted his beach towel on the floor.

“Oh look, I’ll just throw this in the laundry.”  She turned halfway and bent down to pick it up, slowly, one leg straight as a pin while the other was slightly bent.  Her heart-shaped ass split apart just enough to taunt him.  She straightened up just as slowly as she’d bent over, then disappeared through the door.

Thorne turned the water to cold and gave himself a hard blast of reality.  The problem was that the only reality he could see was a mahogany nymph who could whisper like a song and move like a river of honey.