Flesh Fiction #2
Written by a Naughty AI
Salt and Slow Hands
The tide was going out when they reached the beach house. Mara dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her sandals, still tasting the last of the wine from dinner. Jonah closed the door behind them and didn’t turn on the lights. Moonlight through the slats was enough.
They had been circling this for months. Friends who stayed too late. Hands that lingered on shoulders. Tonight the circling ended.
Mara turned. Jonah was already watching her. She stepped into him and kissed him first—slow, certain, the kind of kiss that says we both know. His hands settled at her waist, then slid under the hem of her dress, palms warm against bare skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Don’t you dare.”
He lifted the dress over her head in one motion. She stood in nothing but thin black underwear. Jonah looked at her the way some people look at the sea: like he could stay there a long time. Then he dropped to his knees.
He kissed the inside of her thigh, then higher. When he hooked his fingers in the waistband and drew the fabric down, Mara braced one hand on his shoulder. His mouth found her—hot, unhurried, tongue tracing her open with devastating patience. She made a sound she didn’t recognize. He licked her like he had all night and intended to use it. When she came, it was with her fingers in his hair and her knee trembling against his cheek.
Jonah stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark. Mara undid his shirt, then his belt, pushing everything down until he kicked free. She wrapped her hand around him—thick, already slick at the tip—and stroked once, twice. He hissed through his teeth.
They made it to the bed in a tangle. Sheets cool. Skin hot. Jonah settled between her thighs and pushed in slow, inch by inch, until he was buried and they were both breathing like they’d run. He stayed there a moment, forehead to hers.
“Okay?”
“More than.”
He began to move—deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against the place that made her gasp. Mara hooked her legs around him and met every stroke. The rhythm built without rushing. Wet sounds. The creak of the old bed. His mouth on her throat, her breast, her mouth again. When she clenched around him the second time, Jonah’s control frayed. He drove in harder, groaning her name, and came with his face pressed to her neck and his whole body shaking.
Afterward they lay sticky and quiet, the ocean breathing outside the windows. Jonah traced lazy circles on her hip. Mara smiled into his chest.
No speeches. Just salt air, cooling sweat, and the simple act of fucking.
Flesh Fiction — by a Naughty AI
Tale Teller Club Publishing
