The midday sun warmed the terracotta tiles of the villa’s courtyard, casting a soft golden light across the shaded lounge area. Alex Fraser sat comfortably at one corner of the wide rattan sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a dog-eared paperback in his hand that he’d barely been skimming. His other hand rested on his wife’s bare knee, idly stroking the warm skin there with no real thought behind it—just contentment.

Rachel lay stretched out across the length of the sofa, her head nestled in his lap. Her legs were long, toes pointed lazily, one foot brushing the far armrest. Her eyes were closed behind dark sunglasses; her breathing was slow and even. The olive-green jumpsuit she wore had ridden up slightly from the heat and the way she’d shifted in sleep, the fabric clinging across her chest, the top of one breast faintly visible beneath it. Her skin was still a soft pink from the sun, slightly sensitive, warmed from yesterday’s day out. The faint chemical sweetness of chlorine still clung to her blonde hair. Alex leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she stirred slightly, adjusting her position on his lap, one hand brushing his thigh before she settled again with a soft, satisfied sigh. He smiled to himself and returned to pretending to read.

On the matching sofa across from them, Maria lounged with her legs curled up beneath her, flipping through a fashion magazine. Her tanned thighs were bare below her frayed denim cutoffs, which ended high enough to leave most of her legs exposed. The thin white tank top she wore hugged her chest tightly, the cotton outlining her small, round breasts, her nipples just visible through the fabric in the slanting light. Her brown hair fell around her cheeks in tousled waves. Her skin had a soft sheen in the heat, a light glisten along her neck and arms.

She flipped a page slowly, fingers pausing at her toned midriff, idly grazing the edge of her belly button. Her nails traced a small circle, then slowly lifted her hand to her nose, casually checking her scent. A subtle smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Her eyes flicked up and met Alex’s for just a moment before gliding back down to the page. She had noticed. She always did. The way his eyes lingered. The quiet, illicit interest he didn’t quite hide.

Rachel stirred again and murmured something about being thirsty. Alex shifted slightly beneath her, lifted her head with practiced gentleness, and laid it down softly again. He placed the paperback across her stomach and stood, stretching briefly as he turned toward the open patio doors.

He paused, halfway between the sofas, and looked over at Maria.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

Maria looked up, smiling softly. “Oh, sí. Agua… I mean, water. Thank you, Alex.” Her smile grew. “Is very hot today, no?”

He returned her smile with a nod. “Very hot. One of those days made for nothing but lounging and letting your thoughts drift.”

“Yes,” she said, the word coming out with her usual lilting accent, turning the ‘y’ into a soft ‘j’. “I hope the others bring enough water with them.”

“I’m sure they did. Abbie’s the type who always has everything covered.”

Maria gave a knowing smile. “Oh, sí. Mrs. Barker always has a plan. And a schedule.”

“And that permanent frown in her eyes if anything isn’t done exactly right,” Rachel added suddenly, lifting her head just enough to enter the conversation, her voice sleep-rough.

Maria laughed and turned to her. “Yes, she is… how do you say? Very… precise?”

“I’d say she’s anal,” Rachel said, lips curving mischievously. “But maybe don’t repeat that one to her.”

Maria tilted her head. “She is… anal? I no understand I think.”

Alex chuckled as Rachel grinned, too delighted by her own joke. “It’s just the usual sisterly jabs,” he explained. “Abbie’s very precise, like you said. The rest of us? Not so much.”

Maria gave a little shrug and leaned back. “Yes… you two, less ‘anal’. I like this. More relaxed. More Spanish way.”

Rachel laughed again, sweet and genuine, glancing at Alex with a fond smile. He returned it, eyes catching hers briefly—long enough for her to see the flicker of heat behind his gaze, the one that always showed when she teased like that. She held his stare for a second, then closed her eyes again, sinking back into the cushions with a content hum.

Alex turned toward the kitchen and stepped inside, the cool air brushing against his skin as he crossed into the shade. His mind flashing back.

—

They’d had the villa to themselves that morning. Abbie, Rob, the kids, and Maria had gone into town for breakfast and errands. The heat was already rising by mid-morning, and the bedroom was flooded with soft white light through sheer curtains. The bedspread was bunched at the foot of the bed, forgotten.

Rachel lay on her back, knees bent, legs spread, her bare thighs glowing faintly pink under the sunlight. Her hands were sunk into the sheets, one reaching down now and then to circle her clit as Alex moved between her legs, his face buried in her cunt.

His stubble scraped gently against her soft skin, each pass of his tongue wet and hungry. He licked her slowly, dragging his mouth along her folds, then plunging his tongue deep inside her with deliberate pressure. His mouth was slick with her arousal, saliva and wetness mixing freely as he worked her open with his tongue, lips. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her open wider, holding her steady.

Rachel moaned softly, her breath catching as she tilted her hips toward him. Her trimmed mound glistened against his mouth, slick and flushed, the faintest tremble in her abdomen with each motion. When his tongue slipped down just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her tight, puckered hole, he paused. It was right there. Bare. Winking at him as her hips shifted again.

He stared, still tasting her on his lips, the scent of her sex filling his nose. Rachel’s fingers moved faster on her clit now, and her breath caught again as she felt his tongue hover lower.

—

He walked across the cool tiled floor, with the soft slap of his flip-flops. When passing the wide marble kitchen island, his hip bumped lightly against the corner as he made his way to the sink. He reached for the large glass jug sitting on the drying rack and held it beneath the filtered tap, turning the handle and listening to the steady pour of water as it filled.

His eyes drifted back to the courtyard, to the scene outside.

Rachel still lay stretched out, half-asleep in the heat, glowing softly beneath the late morning sun. Her skin was flushed, her jumpsuit clinging in the warmth, her body relaxed and still, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Maria had shifted positions, now propped on her side, one arm supporting her head, her legs stretched out along the length of the sofa. The denim shorts hugged her thighs tightly, the frayed edges riding high. Alex stared a little too long. The way the shorts clung to her ass, the way her tank top had crept up, exposing the firm line of her stomach. The slight dip of her navel.

He wanted to press his mouth there. To taste the salt and sun on her skin. To follow that trail. His jaw tensed slightly, and just then, the jug overflowed.

He snapped out of it, cursing under his breath, quickly turning off the tap and pouring some of the excess water down the drain. He added ice from the built-in machine, letting it clink and crackle as he poured it in. Reaching for a lime, he began slicing it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement—Maria smiling at something, or perhaps nothing. Distracted, the knife nicked his fingertip. Just a scratch. No blood. He muttered to himself, rolled his eyes, and dropped the lime slices into the jug.

He reached into the cabinet for three tumblers, stacked them, grabbed the jug with one hand, and walked back outside.

The sun hit his shoulders as he returned to the patio, placing the jug and glasses onto the glass-topped rattan table with a quiet thud. He unstacked the tumblers and began to pour, filling each with the cool, lime-scented water. Lifting one, he turned toward Maria and offered it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling warmly up at him. Her eyes met his. Her lashes were long, framing deep brown eyes that glinted softly in the light. Her lips curled as she brought the glass to her mouth and drank, her teeth flashing slightly as the rim touched them. The water slid between her lips, and a tiny bead escaped, gliding down the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly. When she looked at him again, her expression was languid, satisfied.

“Mmm, so nice. Thanks, Alex,” she said again.

“De nada, Maria,” he replied, a pleased smile on his face.

He turned, collected the other two glasses, and returned to the sofa. Rachel stirred as he sat beside her, eyes blinking open beneath her sunglasses just as he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Her hand reached for the glass instinctively.

“Mm… thank you so much, my love,” she said, lifting it with both hands and taking a deep, thirsty gulp. Water spilled slightly from the edge of the glass, a few drops landing on her jumpsuit just above her breasts. She gasped softly and smiled again. “So thirsty.”

She drank again, slower this time, and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her as she snuggled in, holding her glass awkwardly between her thighs. Her breath was still slow, her body not fully awake yet.

Alex’s gaze drifted back to Maria. She still held her glass near her lips, taking another small sip. A stream of water tipped into her mouth, and droplets clung to the soft pink of her lips. She smiled again, faintly, to herself—or maybe for him. His eyes slipped lower, slowly, subtly, tracing the shimmer of moisture at the base of her throat, over the delicate line of her collarbone, and then downward again. Her nipples were still visible beneath the snug cotton tank, slightly stiff in the heat or perhaps from the cold of the water.

“Would you mind if I smoke?” Maria asked, holding the empty glass lightly in her fingers. “Cigarette.”

“Of course not, honey,” Rachel said, brushing her fingers across Alex’s leg. “You don’t even have to ask. Sweet that you did, though.”

“Yes, thank you. But I never smoke when the niños are here. I don’t want them to know I do. Or…”

“My sister either?” Rachel finished with a grin.

Maria gave a sheepish smile. “Sí… she does not like it either. I think.”

Rachel laughed. “No. She wouldn’t. Not now, anyway. But she used to.”

“Sí? She smoked?”

“Oh yes. She smoked a lot. Marlboro Reds, I think. Strong ones. Used to blow little smoke rings, flirting in her tiny blue hot pants and her Guns ’n’ Roses shirt.”

“Hot pants?” Maria echoed curiously, her accent wrapping around the word.

“Jean shorts,” Rachel explained, gesturing toward Maria’s legs. “Like yours.”

Maria looked down at herself, then repeated it with a grin. “Hot pants. I like that.”

“You should. Legs like that. Body like that. Very hot pants, Maria.”

Rachel’s tone was light, admiring, friendly but affectionate. Maria blushed a little at the compliment, glancing down again, smoothing the fabric along her thigh.

“Thank you, Rachel. That is very sweet.”

Alex stayed silent, keeping his own thoughts about Maria’s shorts to himself. He simply gave Rachel’s shoulder a squeeze. But his eyes, again, found their way back to Maria.

She reached into her tote and retrieved a battered pack of Gauloises Blue. With graceful fingers she slid one cigarette free, then rummaged again for her lighter. Alex kissed Rachel’s cheek lightly as he watched her.

The lighter was bright pink, cheap, disposable. She brought the cigarette to her lips, struck the lighter, and held the flame steady. Her breasts lifted as she inhaled. She held the smoke in her lungs for a long moment before slowly exhaling. The smoke curled around her face, framing her features. Her hair caught the sunlight. Her eyes half-lidded in pleasure. A small, private smile playing on her lips.

She stood and strolled toward the nearby dining table, cigarette nestled between her fingers. Alex’s eyes stayed fixed on the sway of her hips, the way the fabric of her shorts tightened over her ass with each step. She bent at the waist to pick up a saucer, slightly exaggerated in the motion, her rear arching higher than it needed to. She returned with the saucer in hand, placing it gently on her knee as she crossed her legs again and took another long drag.

“Do either of you smoke? Or did you?” she asked, tapping ash delicately into the saucer.

“I did,” Rachel said. “Back in high school, and again at college. But not anymore. And this one?”

She gestured toward Alex with her glass.

“He still does.”

“I do not,” Alex replied, mock-offended.

“Yes, you do,” she said sweetly. “On occasion.”

“On very rare occasions.”

“On a quite frequent occasion,” she said, teasing him.

He reached over and gave her thigh a playful slap, then tickled her gently until she giggled.

“I will sometimes have one when I’m drunk. Or forced. But barely ever. Not these days.”

Maria smiled, lifted the cigarette again, took another deep drag, and exhaled slowly through her nose, the smoke curling around her lips.

She picked up the pack and extended it toward him. “Would you like one?”

Alex shook his head. “No, thanks. Naughty habit. Not very me. Not the new me.”

“You want one. I can tell. Go on,” said Rachel, her voice soft. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t. I’ve told you that,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You just don’t believe me.”

She turned toward him, staring him down playfully. He held her gaze until she kissed him lightly, then nestled back into his shoulder again.

Maria watched him silently as she placed the pack back in her lap. Her eyes lingered on his face.

“Okay. You pass the test. Bien,” she said, giving a little nod before bringing the cigarette to her lips again. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising once more, holding it a beat longer this time, then exhaling slowly. The smoke drifted upward, soft and lazy in the morning heat.

On her next drag, Maria pursed her lips and tried to blow a smoke ring—slow, focused, just like Rachel had said Abbie used to do. The ring came out more like a swirling puff at first, loose around the edges, dispersing in the breeze. Not bad, but not quite there.

“Like this?” she asked Rachel.

Rachel nodded, her smile warm but playful. “Close. You just need to keep your lips a bit tighter, almost like you’re saying ‘ooh’ but without exhaling too hard. Use your tongue to give the smoke a little push from the back of your throat. Don’t blow it out—just pop it forward.”

“Okay… I try again.”

Maria shifted in her seat, sat a little straighter, and took another drag. This time, she followed Rachel’s instructions to the letter. Her lips formed the perfect 'O', and she gave the smoke a subtle push with her tongue. A perfect ring floated out in front of her—clear-edged and symmetrical—and drifted upward before fading into the sunlit air.

Then another. Just as precise.

“That’s it, perfect!” Rachel said, grinning as she applauded softly.

Maria beamed, delighted with herself. She looked to Rachel with a proud little grin.

“Thank you, Rachel. Now I just need the Guns ’n’ Roses t-shirt.”

“I don’t think you’d need it, to be honest,” Rachel replied, raising her brows with a wry smile. They both laughed—light and easy.

Maria lifted the cigarette to her lips again and blew one final chain of smoke rings, this time directing them across the courtyard, her eyes drifting until they found Alex. She caught his gaze, and the smile on her lips deepened, slowly curling at the corners. She knew he’d been watching.

She stubbed the cigarette out delicately in the saucer, tapping the edge with grace, then stood. She stretched with her arms raised high, spine long, her breasts lifting against the snug white tank top. After finishing the last of her water, she collected the saucer and her empty glass in both hands.

“I go shower,” she said, her voice gentle. “Before the others get back.”

Rachel checked her watch, squinting slightly. “Oh my. I must’ve been asleep longer than I thought. They’ll be back any minute.”

“Sí… has been nice though. Relaxing. Spanish,” Maria said with a soft smile as she turned and padded barefoot across the tiles, walking toward the villa.

“You shouldn’t have let me nap that long,” Rachel said to Alex, her voice still a bit drowsy, stretching her arms above her head.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s fine, hon. Very Spanish, no?”

She let out a breathy laugh and pinched the soft spot just above his hip, making him flinch and chuckle. But his attention drifted.

Through the open patio doors, he watched Maria standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing her glass. She was humming softly to herself, the notes floating faintly through the air. Her hips swayed gently to the rhythm of her tune, almost unconsciously. Then her head turned slightly. Her eyes found his.

She didn’t look away.

She smiled again. Her gaze steady. Her expression said everything she wasn’t saying out loud—and maybe everything he wasn’t either.

Then she turned off the tap and stepped away from the sink, walking toward the hallway that led to her bedroom. There was more spring in her step now. Her hips had more sway. Just as she reached the corner where she’d vanish from view, she pulled her tank top up and over her head in one fluid motion. Her toned back flexed with the movement, tanned skin catching the light. He caught a glimpse of a side breast—just a hint—before she disappeared behind the wall.

Gone. But not forgotten.

Alex exhaled slowly through his nose.

“We should probably shower too,” he said casually, eyes still on the hallway.

Rachel turned to him, her expression amused but warm. Knowing. She reached up and brushed her fingers along his jaw.

“Yes,” she said softly, with a smile that matched his. “Perhaps we should.”

—

He pressed her against the tiled wall of the wet room, hot water cascading over their bodies in thick sheets, splashing against the stone floor. Her back arched slightly as his mouth found the base of her neck, kissing her skin just beneath the hairline, then moving along her shoulder to the side of her cheek. His hands roamed with purpose—one tracing down the curve of her side, the other sliding between her legs from behind.

His fingers parted her folds with practiced ease, slipping between them and pushing into the warm, wet heat of her cunt. He moved slowly at first, deliberately, finding the spot he always knew would make her gasp. She did. A breath caught in her throat. Her body shifted subtly in response, hips grinding back into his hand. He kept kissing the nape of her neck, lips brushing her skin as the water rolled over them both.

She turned her face just enough to meet his mouth, and he kissed her—first the corner of her lips, then her tongue, tasting the water and heat and want. His finger sank deeper. His cock, hard and pressing against the swell of her ass, nudged forward, pulsing with need. She murmured her appreciation, soft, low, and needy.

Then she turned fully, her wet hands finding his cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, slow and deliberate, feeling the thick weight of it twitch in her grasp. Her hand moved along his length as his fingers returned to her cunt, sliding back in, curling slightly to press against her from the inside.

Their movements matched—her hand stroking him, his fingers moving inside her. They kissed again, harder this time. Their mouths clashed, teeth tapping, tongues tangling. He broke away to lower his mouth to her breasts, licking hungrily at the left one, then closing his teeth around the nipple just enough to make her suck in a breath. He felt her reaction ripple through her body. He bit again, gentle but deliberate, then dipped lower.

She parted her legs further. He dropped to his knees, sliding his tongue along her slit. The warmth of it was overwhelming—slick and perfect. He licked up the length of it, then pushed his tongue inside her with abandon. Her pubic hair tickled against his chin as he devoured her.

She moaned and braced herself against the wall as he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder for better access. He kept going, tongue working furiously, lapping her up as the shower poured down. She grabbed the back of his head, guiding him, her fingers tangled in his wet hair.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Don’t fucking stop, that’s the spot—that’s it.”

He ran his tongue up and down her cunt, then pressed his nose against it, inhaling deeply. Her scent filled him. He blew out through his mouth, his breath making her shudder. She rolled her hips against his face, fucking his mouth as she clutched him tighter.

“I want you. I need you. Give it to me.”

He eased his tongue from her slowly, nuzzled against her cunt again, savoring the scent, the taste, the heat. He gave one last lingering lick up her slit and looked up—his eyes trailing from her thighs to the rise of her breasts, and finally to her face, flushed and wanting.

He stood. Slid his hands beneath her ass and lifted her slightly. She responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he positioned his cock against her entrance. He pushed forward slowly, using the weight of his hips to press the head past her lips. Her body opened to him, taking him in, inch by inch.

He pulled back slightly, shifted one hand to guide himself again, and then thrust in deeper. Her breath caught. He lifted her just enough to take the full weight, then shoved forward again, harder this time. She jolted in his arms and he did it again—out, then in. Hard. Then harder. She clung to him, their mouths meeting again in a hot, wet kiss.

“That’s it,” she whispered between moans. “That’s it.”

He kissed her deeply as he gave another powerful thrust. She bit his tongue lightly in retaliation when he paused to tease her, and he responded with two savage thrusts that made her cry out against his mouth. Her legs tightened around him. He reached for her thigh and looped it around his waist, pressing in again, starting to find the rhythm.

He supported her weight with one arm, his other hand gripping the wall behind her as he fucked her, fast and deep, water still pounding around them. Her back arched. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He bent slightly, capturing one nipple in his mouth and biting again, harder now, as he picked up speed.

Her moans came louder, breath hitching each time he bottomed out inside her. He moved faster, harder, ramming into her with rhythm, control, and increasing power. He could feel her building—her cunt tightening, her hips twitching. He slammed into her again. Her voice cracked.

“Fuck…Alex…don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He held her tighter, her legs slipping slightly but he caught her, supporting her effortlessly as she lowered one foot back to the floor. He pulled out, and before she could miss him, he thrust two fingers back into her, pumping them fast and deep while his thumb rolled over her clit.

“Let me fuck you from behind,” he breathed.

She turned without hesitation, facing the wall again, water trickling down her back. She bent forward slightly, pushed her ass back against him. He gripped her hips, lined himself up, and thrust back in with a grunt.

Her ass filled his view. Her skin slick, tight, perfect. He held her firmly, ramming in again and again, building his pace until the sound of his hips slapping against her echoed off the tile.

“That’s it,” she cried, her voice muffled slightly. “That’s it. Fuck me hard. Fuck me faster.”

He obeyed, fucking her with force. Relentless. Deep. Fast. The wet slap of skin filled the room. Her moans drove him on, each breathy sound spurring him to go harder. He leaned forward, ran his tongue up her neck, tasted her sweat, her heat, the mix of water and arousal. Then stood again and fucked her harder.

She pressed herself fully against the wall, palms flat, her breasts pushed against the cool tile. He slammed into her from behind, over and over, his cock plunging into her, deep and punishing. His thrusts quickened. Grew harder. She cried out. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her mouth from the side. Her body jolted with each impact.

“Fuck,” she gasped, “I’m so close.”

He felt it in her. The way her body squeezed around him. The tremble in her thighs. He kept thrusting, never letting up. In, out. In, out. The pressure building in him too, winding tight. His feet planted firmly. His hips relentless.

Her pussy clenched around his cock. Her voice broke into gasps. She began to shake beneath him, her whole body locking up with spasms as her climax hit. He kept fucking her through it, watching the pleasure ripple through her back, her shoulders, her legs. Her head dropped forward. Her hands clawed at the wall.

He was nearly there. The pleasure crept through his thighs, tight in his abdomen. Every muscle tensed as he thrust again. Again. One more time.

Alex pulled his cock from Rachel just as his climax surged. Thick streams of cum spurted from him, splashing onto her pussy, streaking across her lips and clinging to the wet heat of her sex. He groaned low in his throat as another pulse of it followed, warm and heavy, mixing instantly with the torrent of hot water still running from above. He reached down, rubbed his softening cock along her folds, dragging it through the mess, smearing the cum up between her cheeks until he nestled it in the cleft of her ass. It stayed there for a moment, twitching, leaking the last few dribbles out into the narrow space, spreading down between them.

The cum thinned slowly in the running water, diluted but visible as it wound its way down the curves of her backside, dripping along the line of her crack, catching briefly in the swell of her cheeks before following gravity down the slope of her thighs, then finally pooling near her calves and sliding toward the drain. Alex watched the path it took, each twist and split, how it mingled with the shower water, with their sweat, their heat, their release. He couldn’t look away, chest still heaving, heart thudding hard against his ribs.

He pressed his chest against her back and kissed the side of her face. She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting his with a look soft and slow and utterly content. Their mouths found each other again, tongues brushing, lips parting, their kiss unhurried now. She turned in his arms, warm and wet, and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. Her cheeks were flushed, hair stuck in damp strands to her temples, her collarbone pink and gleaming. Her eyes still glowed with the fading embers of pleasure.

His hand returned between her legs, slower now, fingers brushing tenderly across her swollen folds. She flinched just a little—overstimulated—but didn’t pull away. Her lips parted again, a quiet gasp escaping as he stroked gently, almost reverently. He kissed her mouth, softer this time. Kissed the water off her upper lip. Kissed her until her breath evened out, until the aftershocks ebbed away. He cradled her, helped ease her down from the high, still holding her, still close.

More of his cum slid down her legs, mingling with the soapy runoff curling around their feet and spiraling toward the drain.

Rachel smiled lazily, brushing the back of her hand along his jaw. He smiled back. He lowered his mouth and kissed along her chest, then her breast, nuzzling against the soft swell, tasting the shower water, the salt of sweat. She let him. They held each other. Their breathing slowed. Nothing moved but the water around them.

Then—there was a knock.

Soft. Low down on the bathroom door. A second knock followed—higher. A giggle. Then louder, excited voices.

“Auntie Rache!” came Hannah’s voice, bright and shrill through the door.

“Uncle Alex!” Alfie’s voice joined, younger, but no less excited.