The sun burns on my back as I spread the towels across the flat rocks. The water of the Adriatic shimmers in a turquoise blue I only know from postcards. I left the hostel an hour ago, following the map to a secluded cove no travel guide mentions. The path was rocky, lined with stunted pines, but now I stand here, nearly naked in my bikini, and the salt of the air settles as a fine film on my skin.
I hear him before I see him. A rhythmic splashing, interrupted by a deep breath. I turn and recognize a man rising from the water. Water droplets bead on his shoulders, which are broad and tanned. He has a dark beard, wet and clinging to his chin, and his eyes are a light gray, reminiscent of the sky before a storm. He smiles when he notices my gaze, and I catch myself as my stomach tightens.
“Nice spot here,” he says, and his voice matches his body: rough, but not unpleasant. “I thought I had the cove to myself.”
I shrug. “I thought so too. But I can go if you’d rather be alone.”
“No,” he says quickly. “Stay. The cove is big enough for two.”
He settles on a towel he pulls from a backpack, and I pretend to focus on my book. But my eyes keep drifting to him. He lies on his back, arms folded behind his head, and I can see the lines of his abdominal muscles etched beneath his skin. His shorts sit low on his hips, and I feel my thoughts wandering.
A Chance Encounter
After a while, he sits up and looks in my direction. “I’m Lukas, by the way,” he says. “From Munich. And you?”
“Lena,” I reply. “From Vienna.”
“Traveling alone too?”
I nod. “My friend didn’t have time. So I just drove off spontaneously.”
“Brave,” he says. “I arrived a week ago, but the tourist spots are too crowded for me. That’s why I look for hidden coves like this.”
He stands and comes closer. His shadow falls over me, and I feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Feel like snorkeling? There’s a small cove up ahead with fish. I discovered it yesterday.”
I hesitate, but then I nod. “Okay. But I don’t have any gear.”
He grins. “I have a spare snorkel mask. Come on.”
We wade into the water, and I feel the coolness enveloping my legs. He hands me the mask, and I put it on. Underwater, another world opens up: colorful fish darting between rocks, starfish clinging to stones. He surfaces next to me, pointing at an octopus hiding under a ledge. His hand touches mine to guide my attention, and I feel a jolt that has nothing to do with the saltwater.
We snorkel for half an hour, then we retreat exhausted to the rocks. I lie down, eyes closed, feeling the sun on my wet skin. He sits beside me, and I open my eyes.
“Amazing here,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, but he’s not looking at the water; he’s looking at me. “Lena, I know this is crazy, but I want to kiss you. May I?”
His directness surprises me, but I like it. I sit up and look at him. His gray gaze is darker now, more intense. “Yes,” I whisper.
He leans in, and his lips meet mine. They are salty, warm, demanding. His hand cups my neck, pulling me closer, and I open my mouth for his tongue. The kiss is deep, exploring, and I feel something inside me loosen. My hands glide over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath sun-warmed skin.
Approaching Under the Palms
He pulls away, breathing heavily. “I want you,” he says, his voice husky. “But not here. My apartment isn’t far. It has a rooftop terrace with a view of the sea.”
I smile. “That sounds good.”
We gather our things, and he leads me along the path to a white house half-hidden behind olive trees. The apartment is simple but bright: large windows, a wide bed, a door to the terrace where two lounge chairs sit. From here, the sea is a silver band on the horizon.
He takes my hand and pulls me to him. “No rush,” he murmurs, as he unties my bikini. “We have the whole afternoon.”
The fabric falls, and I stand naked before him. His eyes travel over my body, and I see the desire in them. He reaches out and touches my breast, the nipple hardening under his finger. I moan softly as he gently takes it between thumb and forefinger and rubs.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and his lips find my neck. He kisses me where my pulse beats, and I feel my knees go weak. His hands move lower, over my stomach, to my hip, and then between my legs. His fingers glide through my slit, and I’m already wet.
“I want to taste you,” he whispers, and then he kneels before me. His breath is hot on my skin as he extends his tongue and licks me. A shiver runs through me, and I grab his hair to hold him. He explores me with slow, savoring strokes, his tongue circling my clit, dipping into me. I gasp as he quickens the rhythm, and I feel the tension building inside me.
“Lukas,” I moan, and he answers with a soft laugh that vibrates against my skin. He sucks gently on me, and I nearly explode. My body trembles, and I cry out his name as waves of pleasure roll through me.
He stands, wiping his mouth, and I see his erection straining against his shorts. I pull him onto the bed, unbutton his shorts, and slide them down. His cock springs free, long and thick, with a slight upward curve. I wrap my hand around it, feeling the velvet skin over the hardness. He groans as I move it slowly up and down.
“I want to feel you,” I say, and I guide him to me. He leans over me, his eyes on mine, and then he enters. It’s a slow, deep penetration that fills me. I arch toward him, and he begins to thrust. Each thrust is powerful but not rough. He finds a rhythm that carries me along, and I dig my nails into his back.
Heat and Desire
Our bodies slide against each other, sweaty and salty. He changes the angle, and the new friction hits a spot inside me that makes me gasp. “Yes, right there,” I pant, and he obliges, driving deeper, faster. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and I feel the pressure building again. He reaches between us, his thumb finding my clit, and I shatter, crying out as my orgasm rips through me, my inner walls clenching around him.
He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he buries himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he comes. I feel him pulsing inside me, hot and thick, and I hold him tight as we both ride out the waves.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. His hand rests on my hip, and I trace patterns on his chest. The sea breeze drifts in through the open door, carrying the scent of salt and wild herbs. He turns his head and kisses my forehead. “That was incredible,” he says.
I smile, feeling the ache between my legs, a pleasant reminder of what we just did. “We have all afternoon,” I echo his earlier words. His hand slides down, cupping my ass, pulling me tighter against him. I feel him stir against my thigh, already growing hard again. “And the night,” he adds, his voice low, as his fingers dip between my legs, finding me still slick and ready. I arch into his touch, and the heat begins to build once more.
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