She stumbled barefoot from the bar, red dress clinging to rum-slick skin. Coconut oil and sweat perfumed her neck. Her brown hair clung to her cheeks, damp from dancing. She dropped to her knees in the sand, thong vanishing between slick thighs, the dress riding up like it had given up.

She pulled him out with one hand and took him in without hesitation. Her mouth was hot, spit already sliding down her chin. The scent of her—salt, sun, tequila—filled his head. She gagged softly, then deeper, throat fluttering around him until he grunted, spilling into her. She pulled off gasping, strands of hair streaked with it, her lips glossy with mess. She smiled but said nothing.

The dress hit the sand next. She stepped out of it slow, thong sliding down thighs still glistening. Naked, she walked into the waves like the sea belonged to her. He followed, hard again already.

She surfaced beside him, eyes dark and shining. Her hand found him under the surface, stroking slow.

“Still full of it?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. She guided him back to shore, water curling at their legs. She dropped again, this time rougher. His head tipped back, hips jerking as her throat worked around him, relentless. He came fast, groaning, pulse fluttering in her mouth. She spit into the surf, wiped her lips, then straddled him in the shallows. Her body sank onto his, slick and needy, her pace slow, grinding. She held his face, stared into him as she moved. When she came, she shook hard, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

He flipped her in the water and drove into her again, teeth bared, waves slapping around them. She clawed at his back. When he came, she kept him in, thighs locked tight. Only when she stood did it trickle down her legs.

She didn’t speak, just walked up the beach, gathering her dress but leaving the thong behind. He followed, breathless, still aching. She led him down a narrow path, hair tangled, skin glowing. The cabana was half-rotten, a broken door hanging loose. Inside, the floor was cool tile, the bed stripped bare. She didn’t care.

She bent over the wooden frame, ass high, fingers spreading herself open like an invitation. He entered her slowly. Her body took him in like it had missed him. He grabbed her hips and fucked her until the bed knocked the wall and her moans turned hoarse. She didn’t ask for more. She just took it.

They collapsed on the floor. She pushed him onto his back and crawled between his legs. Her mouth found him again, raw and wet, no gentleness. Her throat gripped, swallowed, worked him up. When he came, it hit her lips, her breasts, her throat. She didn’t wipe it off. Just sat back, panting, eyes half-lidded.

She lit a cigarette from a pack in her bag. No bra. No apology. Cum cooling on her chest.

“What do you want in the morning?” she asked.

He stared at her, half-hard again already. “You.”

She dragged smoke into her lungs and smirked. “That’s already mine.”

They dozed on the floor, bodies tangled, skin sticky with salt and sweat. The bed was too ruined to bother. When they woke, the room was bright and hot. Her thighs were bruised. His back ached where her nails had torn him up. She pulled on the red dress, hair knotted from dried salt and semen. She tied it back with a thong, probably not hers.

They walked to town slowly. Her feet were still bare. She bought fruit from a market stall and bit into mango, juice sliding down her fingers. She licked them clean with the same mouth that had wrecked him hours ago.

By sundown, they were back on the beach. She lay in his lap, dress pushed up, stroking him lazily. The sky bled orange as he slid inside her again, her body rising and falling like she was made for this.

She came as the stars blinked alive. Sand clung to her back. Her breath came slow and steady. He looked up at the sky, still inside her, and wondered how much more he could give before she took it all.

The holiday had only just begun.