The island looked like a postcard as their boat pulled in, a curl of golden beach, a light blue, almost turquoise sea, and the dense trees with a vibrant canopy of green. Ellie felt the heat as soon as she stepped off, her skin drinking it in after months of English gray. Michael, trailing two rolling suitcases, looked out at the view and grinned like a kid.

“Not bad, eh?” he said, bumping her shoulder with his. “Remind me again why we don’t live here?”

She smiled, trying to match his enthusiasm, how he kept pointing out every little thing, the lizards skittering over the path, the salt in the air, the way the bellhop’s shirt barely fit over his chest. Michael was always noticing things. Just never quite the things that mattered. He never seemed to notice her, not really. 

Their room was cool, clean, full of light. Michael immediately opened the patio doors to let in the breeze. Ellie unpacked in silence, folding his shirts, smoothing her own dresses over hangers. She caught herself humming. The humdrum of life back in the UK had been weighing on her. She had felt like she was in a rut, at work but more importantly at home. She was hoping the holiday would do them some good.

Michael stretched out on the bed, phone in hand. “I’m knackered. Fancy a drink?”

The pool bar was already busy, bodies gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Michael found an empty table and waved her toward the bar. “Surprise me,” he called.

She threaded through the crowd, eyes flicking over the countless tourists, not really noticing them but then she saw him. Alone at the bar, dark hair pushed back, a book in one hand and a half-finished cocktail in the other. Not young, not old, he was an enigma.

She ordered two daiquiris. The man glanced over, catching her eye. “First day?” he asked, his accent difficult to place, something Mediterranean, maybe.

Ellie smiled, suddenly self-conscious. “That obvious?”

He shrugged, lips curving. “Everyone looks a  little jet lagged just after they arrive.”

She laughed, feeling a flicker of something, nerves, heat, both. He held out a hand. “Rafael.”

“Ellie.” She shook it, his grip warm, not too firm. She almost didn’t want to let go.

Drinks in hand, she rejoined Michael. He was already scrolling through excursion brochures, asking her opinion about snorkeling or the local ruins. Ellie tried to focus, but her gaze drifted back to the bar, to Rafael, the way he turned a page with one lazy finger. She couldn’t help imagining that finger doing other things.

It was nothing, she told herself. Just an idle thought. But thoughts of him plagued her the rest of the afternoon and through dinner. She decided to clear her head and go for a walk. Michael didn’t protest, just poured himself another glass of wine and curled up on their balcony with his paperback, content. “Don’t get lost,” he teased. 

The sky was painted gold and pink, the hush of evening settling over the island. Ellie walked without purpose, sandals in hand, letting the cool earth and dust press between her toes. The only sounds were the sea and the wind.

Then another sound reached her, it was unmistakable, a moan. She hesitated, senses sharpening. Curiosity tugged her down a side path, half-hidden by wild bougainvillea. She ducked through the undergrowth, heart thudding, until the path opened into a small, secluded cove.

It was breathtaking, pale stone, curling surf, the last slant of sunlight gilding the rocks. And there, leaning back on a sun-warmed boulder, was a man. He was naked. His body was long and lean, muscles defined but not showy, skin bronzed and dusted with dark hair. His head was tipped back, exposing the strong line of his throat. His hand was wrapped around his cock and moving in slow, deliberate strokes. 

She recognised him, it was Rafael, the man she had met at the bar. The man she had been fantasising about since. The man she had been trying to clear from her head with this walk, and he was now masturbating, mere meters away from her. 

Ellie froze behind a screen of salt grass and stone. She couldn’t move, watching him for a long moment. Hypnotised by the rhythm of his hand the lazy roll of his hips, the way his lips parted with each exhale. There was nothing hurried or furtive about him; his movements were languid, almost sensual. His eyes were closed, lashes dark on his cheek, lost in whatever world he’d conjured for himself. He clearly didn’t know someone else had snuck into this secret, perfect place.

Guilt stabbed through her, sharp and sickening. What are you doing? she thought. You’re married. This is madness. You should leave, should flee before he notices.

Her body answered before her mind could. Heat surged, a flush crawling up her neck, her thighs pressing together as if by instinct. She didn’t leave. She couldn’t. She just watched the movements of his hand sliding over his glistening shaft. 

Ellie’s own hand hovered at her belly, then lower, then stopped. Her breath matching his, shallow and uneven. The tension wound tight inside her, shame tangled with raw, hot wanting.

Her thighs pressed together, seeking relief she wouldn’t grant herself. She couldn’t look away. She could smell herself. Her arousal undeniable, mingling with the scent of salt and wildflowers. 

You’re just watching, she argued with herself. It isn’t cheating if he doesn’t even know you’re here. It’s nothing. Just a look. Just a moment, it’s no different to watching porn. You’ll forget all about it in the morning. 

But even as she tried to rationalise, her body betrayed her, her breath coming in shallow pants, her fingers twitching at the hem of her dress, aching to touch herself. 

She was just about to give in and touch herself when Rafael’s pace quickened, his hips lifting just so. The muscles in his stomach clenched, a small, helpless sound breaking from his lips. The sound was shockingly intimate, sending a pulse of heat straight to her core.

Ellie watched, transfixed, as his pleasure peaked,  a shudder wracking his frame as he shot streams of cum over his belly and thigh, groaning into the quiet. The sight of it sent a bolt of desperate longing through her. She clenched her thighs, body aching, dizzy with desire and guilt.

As he slumped back against the rock, catching his breath, Ellie forced herself to slip away, moving as silently as she could. Careful not to make a sound, she slipped back through the brush, legs unsteady. She all but ran up the path, heart hammering.

By the time she reached the room, her knickers were soaked and her body quivering. Michael looked up with a gentle, loving smile, completely oblivious to the thoughts in her mind. Before he could ask how her walk had been, she kissed him hard, dragging him to bed,  her body already feverish with want, her mind still lost in the cove, in the forbidden vision of another man’s pleasure. She told herself it was nothing. That she hadn’t crossed a line. Even if she wasn’t sure that was true.

All through the next day, Ellie found herself adrift. She couldn’t help it, the memory of the cove haunted her, creeping in at odd moments: the warmth of the stone, the hush of the surf, the glint of sunlight on Rafael’s bare skin. 

Last night with Michael she’d climaxed with a violence that shocked her, all the while picturing a stranger. Michael had seemed delighted, a little bemused by her sudden enthusiasm. Today he was full of plans and jokes, and was none the wiser about the secret desire that had taken root inside her.

She went along with him a swim in the pool, a stroll around the gardens, iced drinks under a palms. Ellie tried to focus, but she was too aware with every shift of her body, the dull ache between her thighs, the way her breath caught every time the memory stole into her mind. She didn’t know if he would be there again tonight but she counted down the hours to dusk, jittery with anticipation and guilt.

When dinner finished, she excused herself quickly, barely trusting her voice to sound normal. “I’m going to go for another walk.” she said. Michael waved her off, already absorbed in his phone.

She set off along the path to the cove, heart thumping so hard she could almost hear it. The familiar scent of wild flowers and saltwater filled her nose, and with every step, the ache inside her grew sharper.

Rafael was there. This time, he was facing the path, as if waiting for her, though his eyes were closed, lips parted in a smile. He was naked again, his body catching the last scraps of sunlight, utterly unashamed. His hand curled tightly around his cock, working himself with a languid pace that made Ellie’s mouth go dry, and other parts moisten noticeably.

She crouched low behind the same rock as last time, hidden by a tangle of wild grass. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She pressed her palm between her legs, fingers trembling, feeling the slick warmth through thin cotton. Her knickers were already damp, the tiniest pressure enough to send a jolt through her.

She pulled her knickers aside reaching to touch beneath. A sharp jolt shot through her at the first touch, her clit already throbbing with need. She slid her hand inside, two fingers parting slick heat, pressing gently against herself. A small, helpless whimper escaped her lips. She froze, terrified he’d heard. But Rafael just kept going, brow furrowed, a faint line of tension in his jaw.

Ellie tried to justify herself, a frantic, half-sensible litany in her mind: You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just watching. You’re still faithful. This doesn’t count. This is nothing. 

But it was all nonsense. The truth pulsed in her blood, she wanted, more than anything, to be caught.

She watched Rafael’s hand pump slowly up and down, and watched the muscles in his thigh tighten. Her own fingers found their rhythm, circling her clit in slow, tight swirls. She moaned softly, biting her lip, heart pounding so hard she was sure he’d hear it. 

She imagined him knowing. Imagined him opening his eyes, locking them on hers, stroking himself faster as she touched herself for him. The thought sent another spike of pleasure through her belly. 

But then came the voice in her head. What would Michael think if he saw you now?

She faltered. Her fingers slowed, her body tightening, not with pleasure, but with conflict. She pressed harder, desperate to push herself over the edge, but it wasn’t enough. Her thighs shook. She was close, so close, but not there. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. She wanted to finish. She needed to finish. But her mind was fractured, one part burning with lust, the other drowning in guilt. You're married. You're watching a stranger wank while you finger yourself like a bloody schoolgirl. What the hell is wrong with you?

Then Rafael gasped, hips lifting, hand gripping harder. His head fell back as he came, chest heaving, a thick line of cum spurting across his stomach again. Ellie watched, hand still buried between her legs, and felt a fierce twist of longing and envy.

But it was too late. The moment broke. Her climax dissolved into frustration, guilt clawing up through the heat.

She yanked her hand away, breath ragged, knickers sticking to her thighs as she scrambled back from the rock. The cool night air hit her flushed skin like a slap. Her whole body trembled as she turned and fled up the path. 

She didn’t notice Rafael's eyes staring after her as she fled.

By the time she reached her room she was nearly mad with desire. Michael looked up, smiling, clueless as ever.

She kissed him hard, pulling off his clothes as she pulled him to bed, climbing on top of him like a woman posessed and fucked him wildly as she tried to drown the memory.

Their sex was swift, needy, breathless. She climaxed quickly, guilt burning in her chest even as pleasure broke over her.

Afterwards, Michael kissed her shoulder. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “This place really agrees with you.”

Ellie only smiled, her mind still full of someone else

Ellie told herself she wouldn’t go back. She had to draw the line. The heat, the secrecy, the ache inside her, it was all too much, already beginning to tarnish the holiday’s glow. She threw herself into the day, a long swim, a boat trip, lunch overlooking the sea. But everywhere she turned, she saw Rafael, at the pool, at the bar, on the boat, never looking her way but she couldn’t help but look at him. Michael didn’t seem to notice anything was off.

Guilt gnawed at her, but it was a weak, distant thing compared to the hunger that took hold through the day. As dusk fell she said “I think I’ll take another evening walk,”  her voice too casual. Michael just smiled. He had no idea what she was about to do. Neither did she.

Ellie’s steps were hesitant at first, but by the time she reached the path, she was all need and nerves. The scent of the sea grew stronger as she descended, heart hammering with anticipation. The cove glowed in the twilight, as secret and inviting as ever.

As soon as she crouched behind her usual rock thinking she was hidden, Rafael’s voice cut through the hush, smooth, low, unmistakable. “You can come out,” he called. “I know you’ve been watching me. I don’t mind.”

Ellie froze, blood pounding in her ears. She could run. She should have. Instead, she stepped into the open, trembling, hands clenched tight at her sides. The sand was cool beneath her bare feet. She met Rafael’s gaze for the first time since that first brief conversation at the bar. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and he was naked again, unapologetically so, sprawled casually against the rock.

Ellie’s throat felt dry as bone. “I shouldn’t be here,” she managed, arms crossed over her chest in a feeble shield. “I’m married. This isn’t right.”

Rafael shrugged, a gentle, almost apologetic gesture. “I know.” He didn’t look away. “And yet you’re here.”

His words landed with the gentlest sting. Ellie looked down, toes curling into the sand, heart hammering in her chest. “I don’t want to ruin anything. I love my husband. I do.” Her voice quavered.

“I’m not asking you to stop loving him,” Rafael said softly. “Or to do anything you don’t choose. We don’t even need to touch. We can just share our need.” He nodded to the spot beside him. “If you want.”

Ellie hesitated, her mind a riot of conflicting wants and fears. She could leave now, and nothing would be lost, except for the chance to know this part of herself, to own the ache that had haunted her since that first night.

For a long, fragile moment, Ellie stood in silence, torn between fleeing and giving in. The wind brushed goosebumps over her bare arms. 

Her voice came out small. “No touching?”

He nodded. 

She drew in a shaky breath, feeling the prickle of uncertainty and desire move through her like a tide. Then she took a step forward, then another, the air between them felt thick with possibility. 

She hesitated, nerves jangling. Then with shaking fingers, she lifted her sundress over her head, letting it drop onto the sand. Her knickers followed, leaving her utterly bare under the moonlight. The air was cooler than she’d expected; goosebumps rose along her arms and thighs, but her skin prickled with more than just the night air.

Ellie mirrored his position, settling herself on the cool, gritty surface, knees drawn up, their bare feet almost touching. Her nipples peaked in the chill, every inch of her skin alive to his attention. She let her knees fall open, feeling exposed but hungry, desire throbbing low and insistent between her legs.

Rafael wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking slowly, watching her, noticing everything. Ellie let her hand drift to her breasts, pinching a nipple between finger and thumb, her breath catching as pleasure flared. With her other hand, she slid down her belly, between her legs, fingers parting the soft, slick folds, tracing gentle circles over her clit. She gasped, louder than she meant to, but Rafael only smiled, dark, feral.

They watched each other shamelessly, the rhythm of their movements unconsciously syncing. Rafael stroked himself from base to tip, knuckles pale, hips rolling in time with his fist. Ellie’s fingers moved faster, circling and teasing, slipping lower to push one, then two fingers inside herself. She was slick, tight and aching.

She moaned softly, unable to keep still, rocking against her own hand as heat rose in her cheeks and across her chest. Rafael groaned in answer, his breathing growing ragged, his eyes never leaving hers. It was as if they were caught in the same current, each building the other higher, neither daring to look away.

Rafael’s breathing had grown rough and uneven, his body a study in tension, muscles drawn tight beneath sun-bronzed skin, hand gliding in slick, urgent strokes. Ellie couldn’t tear her gaze away; her own hand moved frantically between her legs, every nerve on fire, her pleasure wound tight as a wire.

Their eyes stayed locked, unblinking, as if each drew strength from the other’s hunger. Rafael’s jaw clenched, his lips parting in a soft, involuntary gasp. The tendons in his neck stood out as he worked himself faster, the heel of his hand sliding down to the base of his cock, then back up to the swollen tip.

Ellie’s whole world narrowed to the rhythmic music of his movement, the glint of sweat at his temples, the tremor in his thighs as his hips began to buck. She watched his pleasure crest, the sheer, primal beauty of it. Her fingers worked faster, breath coming in ragged, desperate little pants.

Then Rafael let out a low, guttural groan. His body arched, every muscle pulled taut, and with a shudder that seemed to ripple through the air itself, he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled across his belly, droplets catching the moonlight and glittering as they traced slow paths down his skin. 

The sight of it pushed Ellie over the edge. She moaned, as her own climax tore through her. Her back arched, hips rising off the sand, her fingers circling furiously as her body clenched and spasmed around the pleasure. Waves of heat and sensation crashed through her, so powerful she nearly doubled over, her thighs trembling, hair tumbling into her face. She pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, but the sound escaped anyway, a wild, unguarded sob of release.

For a long moment, time seemed suspended. The cove, the night, the world, all shrank to the ragged music of their breath and the aftershocks still quivering in their bodies.

Ellie slowly sagged forward, skin flushed and damp with sweat and salt. She felt the tremors echo through her limbs, a deep, shivering satisfaction that left her boneless. When she lifted her head at last, she saw Rafael watching her, his eyes soft, awed, and deeply spent.

Neither spoke. There was nothing left to say. 

Ellie tucked her hair behind her ear and gathered her clothes in silence, Rafael watching her, and with a last lingering glance, she turned up the path towards the hotel

Guilt pooled in her chest. She kept telling herself she hadn’t touched him. She hadn’t broken any vows. But she knew she would never be quite the same.

The walk back to the hotel felt longer than ever. Ellie’s legs were shaky; her heart pounded, and her mind whirled, slowly clearing as if emerging from a dream.

Michael was waiting for her on the balcony, feet up, glass in hand, grinning at her as she arrived back. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d run off with one of the locals.”

His joke nearly made her flinch. She managed a laugh, leaning down to kiss him. Guilt rolled over her in waves, threatening to drown her. Maybe it was time to put an end to it. Or maybe, just maybe, it was time to turn it into something new.

On a sudden impulse, she smiled at Michael and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go for a swim,” she said. “Right now. There’s a little cove I found, and I want to show you.”

Michael was surprised but eager. “Now? In the dark?”

She grinned. “Trust me.”

They made their way down the path together, Michael stumbling over the uneven stones, laughing quietly, squeezing her fingers. 

As they reached the cove Ellie pulled off her dress and ran into the water, yelping at the initial shock of cold, Michael right behind her, splashing and teasing, his arms catching her around the waist. They kissed in the shallows, their laughter echoing off the stone. More present together than they had been in a long time.

Ellie was damp and shivering slightly when she climbed out of the sea, her dress abandoned in a pile on the sand. Michael came up behind her, arms sliding round her waist, his chest warm against her skin. She tilted her head back, letting him kiss the salt from her shoulder. 

She turned in his arms and kissed him, slow and deep, her hands threading through his hair. When he pressed her back against the warm stone, she didn’t resist; she wanted this, wanted him. Not Rafael, him.

She lay back on the rock, legs falling open as Michael knelt between them. His hands travelled up her thighs. She shivered, anticipation curling through her belly as he hooked his fingers into her drenched knickers and tugged them down, exposing her to the breeze and moonlight.

He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her, kissing her softly, then with growing hunger, his tongue exploring the folds of her sex in lazy, lingering strokes. Ellie arched against his mouth, her hands in his hair, thighs trembling. The sounds she made swallowed by the waves.

When she couldn’t take any more, she pulled him up to her, wanting to feel his weight, his skin, his breath on her face. Michael fumbled with his shorts, laughing into her neck, and then he was inside her, real and utterly present. They moved together with a kind of rough sweetness, not hurried but insistent.

Ellie’s world narrowed to this moment, the grip of Michael’s hands on her hips, the heat gathering between them. He kissed her as they rocked together, murmuring her name.

Her climax built in slow, steady waves, no fantasy, no guilt, just the honest, shattering pleasure of being wanted, being known. She cried out softly, clutching Michael close as the release broke over her, rolling and rolling until she was left boneless and gasping beneath him.

Michael followed soon after, burying his face in her neck, their bodies slippery with sweat and sea. As he rolled off her, Ellie closed her eyes, letting the cool night air dry the sweat on her skin, the weight of guilt and longing finally replaced by something else. 

For the first time in days, Rafael’s image faded into the background. The cove was theirs now, marked not by treachery, but by laughter, and honest pleasure. Ellie closed her eyes, breathing in the night, letting the tide wash away everything she didn’t need.

She may not have been entirely faithful, but maybe, she thought, just maybe she had been faithful enough.