“Dark Tides & Dirty Deeds”
Rafe Cameron x Kiara Carrera
The sky was an endless abyss, smudged with thin wisps of clouds that barely hid the stars. The air tasted of salt and something darker—promise, danger, restraint ready to snap them.
Rafe stood near the rail of his yacht , white shirt catching in the breeze, glass of whiskey balanced lazy in his hand. His buzz cut sharpened every edge of his expression; shadows pooled under his jaw, making him look even more dangerous than usual.
He’d been waiting, pulse ticking slow and heavy, tasting the anticipation like smoke in his chest.
Then she appeared at the end of the gangplank: Kiara Carrera. Light jean shorts riding low on her hips, a thin green spaghetti strap top hugging her ribcage, waves of highlighted hair spilling over her shoulders like sunlit turned gold under the yacht’s deck lights.
For a split second, something flickered behind his eyes — something hungry, almost feral.
She paused, gaze locking with his, that familiar defiance glinting beneath long lashes.
Rafe didn’t move, just watched her come closer, his stare pinning her like a moth to glass.
“Kie,” he drawled, voice low, rough from disuse and darker thoughts. The name tasted heavier on his tongue than it should. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”
“You asked me to talk business,” she shot back, stopping just close enough for him to catch the faint vanilla and salt on her skin.
The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched, a half-smile that didn’t touch the cold focus of his eyes. “Business,” he repeated, as though rolling the word around, testing it. His gaze dipped, lingering on the line of her collarbone where the moonlight kissed bare skin. “Sure. We’ll call it that.”
He raised his glass slightly, an unspoken toast — welcome and dare all in one. “Come inside,” he murmured, voice dark velvet over something sharp. “Night’s just getting started.”
And as she stepped past him into the warm, low-lit lounge, he let himself watch her back — every sway of her hips a slow, silent promise of how this night could break them both.
The lounge smelled of salt, leather, and the slow burn of expensive whiskey. Low lights painted everything in honey and shadow, catching the steel in Rafe’s eyes and the gold in Kiara’s hair.
Rafe moved behind the small polished bar, bottle in hand. The way he held it — casual, but with a quiet edge — made it look less like a drink and more like a weapon.
“Want one?” he asked, voice gravelly, like he’d already been talking to ghosts all night.
Kiara raised an eyebrow, then tilted her chin. “Sure.” Her tone was cool, but her pulse betrayed her — Rafe noticed the slight catch in her breath as she stepped closer, the brush of her hair against her shoulder drawing his gaze like a magnet.
He poured, the whiskey catching the light in a slow amber swirl. When he handed it over, his fingers brushed hers, deliberate and lingering just long enough to spark heat under her skin.
She took a sip, the burn chasing away the night chill. Rafe move away from the bar, glass in hand, studying her.
They settled on the couch, the leather creaking beneath their weight as the tension between them thickened. Rafe’s gaze didn’t waver; it was all business now, or at least the version of business he wanted her to believe.
“So,” she said, letting the word stretch between them, “what’s this business you dragged me out here to talk about?”
His jaw tightened, something shadowed flickering across his face. He exhaled, thumb tracing the rim of his glass.
Rafe leaned back, exhaling like he was choosing his words. “You ever hear the name Sofia?”
Kiara’s brow creased. “I mean… yeah. You two were…?”
“A thing,” he interrupted, the words clipped, something sour under his tongue. “Not a real thing. More like… a friend I fucked. Though technically we were dating.” His jaw tensed as he stared into the glass, knuckles pale. “I never really claimed her. Didn’t see the point.”
Kiara swallowed, fingers drumming her glass. “But you still kept her close.”
Rafe’s laugh was dry, cold at the edges. “Yeah, well. Thought it was better than being alone.” His eyes flicked up, catching hers in a sudden, bruising lock. “Turns out, she and Hollis had other plans.”
Kiara blinked, thrown by the shift. “What kind of plans?”
“She scammed me,” he said, each word landing sharp. “Hundreds of thousands. Maybe more. Hollis set it up, but Sofia… she played her part too well.”
The words tasted like rust, betrayal cracked open and bleeding under the soft lamplight.
Kiara’s lips parted, her breath barely audible. “Jesus, Rafe.”
“Yeah,” he rasped, voice almost softer now, but only just. “All that time I thought she was someone to trust . Turns out I was the one dancing on strings.”
He tipped his glass back, the whiskey burning down his throat, but it did nothing to soften the rawness in his eyes.
“And now,” he added, leaning in, voice dropping until it was just for her, “I’m thinking it’s about time to cut those strings. For good.”
Kiara’s pulse hammered at her throat. The air between them felt alive, threaded with danger, regret, and something darkly intimate.
She lifted her glass, the ice clinking between them. “And what exactly do you need me for?”
“You’re smart,” he rasped. “You see through people, even when you pretend you don’t. You’ve got this fire in you that doesn’t burn out, no matter how fucked the world gets.” His thumb brushed the rim of his glass, but his stare burned into her. “And I trust you in a way I can’t trust anyone else. Not after what Sofia did.”
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle between them.
“Just don’t expect me to be easy—because I’m not. But I’m real. And if you want someone in your corner, I’m all in.”
Rafe’s eyes darkened with a mix of relief and something deeper—something raw and unguarded he rarely let surface. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of Kiara’s highlighted hair behind her ear, his touch deliberate and gentle, almost reverent.
His hand moved, fingers sliding to the side of her neck, thumb brushing the skin just below her jaw, grounding her. “And if you say you’re in… then I’m in too. All the way. No half-measures.”
Kiara’s pulse kicked under his touch; her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she nodded once—slow, deliberate, her lips parting slightly as though the words were caught between fear and certainty.
“I’m in,” she whispered, voice steady despite the chaos burning in her chest. “All the way.”
Rafe’s eyes darkened, a spark of something almost savage breaking through, and without hesitating, he leaned in—capturing her mouth in a kiss that tasted of whiskey, confession, and the dangerous relief of finally letting go.
She pulled back and, she moved her drink to the low table beside the couch, the ice clinking softly as it settled. Her chest rose and fell with a shaky breath.
Kiara shifted closer her knee brushed his thigh; heat sparked at the contact. For a moment she hovered there—caught between wanting and hesitation.
Rafe’s hand slid around her waist, fingers firm but unhurried, his touch sparking fire across her ribs. “C’mere,” he rasped, voice low and rough with need.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. And he helped her, steadying her as she climbed into his lap, the couch creaking under their weight. His other hand guided her by the hip, anchoring her against him until she was settled—thighs pressing into his, her chest close enough that he could see every quick rise and fall of her breath.
faces inches apart, sharing the same shaky air, hearts pounding out of sync but for the same reason.
Rafe’s thumb traced slow circles over her waist, his voice husky when it finally broke the silence. “You look better here than I ever fucking imagined,” he murmured, eyes dark and locked on hers.
And Kiara, cheeks flushed, lips parted, answered him with nothing but the way she leaned in—until her mouth found his in a kiss that burned through every doubt they’d both carried onto that yacht.
The taste of whiskey and salt still lingered on both their lips as they crashed together, the kiss messy, hungry, and unrestrained. Kiara’s fingers curled into the collar of his white shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left to hide in.
Rafe let out a low, guttural groan into her mouth, the sound raw and involuntary, vibrating against her lips. His hand at her waist tightened, thumb digging into her skin like he couldn’t quite believe she was real and here, in his lap, wanting this as badly as he did.
Kiara’s breath hitched at the sound, her own pulse thundering in her ears. And then, with a soft gasp, she pulled back—just enough to break the kiss, her chest rising and falling fast.
Before the space between them could cool, she tilted her chin, baring the slender column of her neck to him. An unspoken dare.
Rafe’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with want. His breath fanned hot against her skin before his lips found the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He kissed her there first—slow, tasting her—and then let control slip, mouth trailing lower, open-mouthed kisses burning into her skin.
Kiara shifted, breath catching as she settled her palms on his shoulders for balance. Then, slowly, deliberately, she moved to fully straddle him—legs folding around his waist, the thin denim of her shorts grazing rough against his jeans.
The motion pressed them together in a way that stole the air from both their lungs. Outside, the night spread endless and silent across the water: nothing but the scattered moonlight, the world holding its breath for them alone, the faint slap of waves against the hull the only sound beyond their ragged breathing.
Rafe tilted his head back to look at her, eyes dark and hungry, lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe she was real, right here. His hands settled heavy on her hips, thumbs dragging along the exposed skin above the waistband of her shorts.
“Fuck, Kie…” he rasped, voice so low it barely cut through the quiet. His gaze roamed over her face, then down to the pale skin of her collarbone. “You don’t even know,” he breathed out, the words rough, almost confessional. “How much I’ve wanted this… wanted you. Almost fucking needed it.”
Kiara’s pulse fluttered, breath shaky in her chest. But her eyes burned with something wild—half desire, half defiance. Slowly, experimentally, she rocked her hips against his, a teasing grind that sent heat crackling between them like dry leaves catching fire.
Rafe’s breath hitched, a raw sound slipping from his throat as his fingers dug tighter into her sides.
His jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed locked on hers, every bit of restraint flickering on the edge of ruin.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Kie,” he murmured, thumb brushing the warm skin under her ribs, his stare so intense it felt like it could pin her open. “Or maybe you fucking do…”
Kiara’s lashes fluttered, her lips parting in a shaky breath, and she rolled her hips again—slower this time, deliberate. The motion dragged a rough, low groan from deep in his chest, and she felt his fingers tremble against her skin as though every last thread of control was slipping between them, lost to the dark water beyond the glass.
Her hands slid up Rafe’s chest, fingers pressing into the hard lines of muscle through the thin white fabric of his shirt.
Then she rocked her hips again—harder this time, deliberate, her breath catching as the friction sparked heat that coiled low in her stomach. The motion dragged a sharp, ragged exhale from Rafe, his grip on her hips tightening, knuckles whitening as if to anchor himself.
“Fuck, Kie,” he rasped, voice cracking at the edge, raw with wanting. His gaze burned into hers, pupils blown wide, chest heaving under her palms.
He fisted a hand in her wavy hair, pulling her head back just enough to claim her mouth with his, kiss hard and messy and full of everything he hadn’t said. His other hand dropped to her waist, fingers slipping under the thin hem of her green crop top, calloused palm hot against her skin.
She gasped into his mouth, hips stuttering but not stopping.
Rafe’s hand traced lower, rough knuckles brushing the soft skin of her stomach, until it reached the button of her shorts. His fingers fumbled only for a heartbeat—urgency beating out precision—before he flicked the button open.
The sound of denim parting felt deafening in the hush.
He didn’t look away from her, eyes locked on hers—dark, hungry, a little bit ruined—as he tugged the zipper down, the slow rasp of metal somehow intimate, deliberate, inevitable.
“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” he rasped against her lips, voice ragged and shaking. His thumb brushed over the newly exposed strip of skin at her waist, eyes tracing every breathless shiver that crossed her face.
Kiara’s pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the yacht and the restless slap of waves against the hull. Her breath trembled as she felt the heat of Rafe’s gaze on her—hungry, dark, almost ruined by how badly he wanted her.
Her fingers moved before her thoughts could catch up—fumbling at the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down her thighs in messy, frantic tugs. Rafe let go of her hair just long enough to help, his large hands dragging the denim down her legs until they dropped to the floor with a dull, discarded thud. The sea breeze kissed newly bare skin, cool and sharp against the heat burning through her.
She was left straddling him in nothing but her black panties and the thin green crop top that barely clung to her chest.
Rafe’s jaw flexed, chest heaving under the thin white shirt as he swallowed hard. His gaze swept down, slow and reverent, lingering on the delicate slip of lace covering almost nothing at all.
“Fuck, Kie…” he rasped, voice shredded and low, every word a confession he could barely hold back.
Then he moved—both hands gripping the hem of her crop top, knuckles brushing the warm skin of her waist. His thumbs traced just under the swell of her breasts, feeling the soft catch of her breath, the wild thud of her heart.
Rafe pulled the top up, slow at first—dragging the thin fabric over flushed skin—until he tugged it off completely, tossing it aside to join her shorts on the floor.
For a moment, the world felt painfully still. Only the hush of water beyond the glass, only the heat between their bodies, only the pounding of two hearts caught on the same sharp edge.
Rafe’s hands skimmed down her ribs, rough palms brushing the newly bare skin, thumbs ghosting over the curve of her chest. His breath came out shaky, words rasping out before he could stop them:
“You don’t know what you do to me, Kie,” he murmured, voice cracking under the weight of it. “I’ve fucking dreamed of this—of you—more times than I can count.”
Her eyes locked onto his—blue ones, hungry, and wide with need—and she leaned in close, her voice barely more than a breath, trembling with raw desire.
“Take me,” she whispered, her words dripping with urgency and promise. “Right here. Right now.”
Without hesitation, he captured her mouth again—deep, fierce, like claiming what was already his—and pulled her even closer, the yacht’s dim light wrapping them in shadow and fire.
Kiara’s fingers trembled slightly as they found the waistband of Rafe’s jeans. With deliberate slow movements, she worked the zipper down, the metallic scrape echoing softly in the quiet yacht . Her other hand slipped beneath the fabric of his boxers, wrapping around him firmly.
A low, breathy groan escaped her lips, melting into the kiss as she pressed closer, the heat between them growing unbearably thick and pulled his boxers fully down.
She broke their kiss and spit in her hand a string of thick saliva coming into her hand and stroked it on top of his tip a pretty shade of pink.
Rafe sat back in his seat, his eyes closed, a deep groan escaping his lips as Kiara took his thick cock into her mouth. Her lips were tight around him, her tongue swirling expertly, eliciting a low, appreciative sound from Rafe.
“Fuck, Kie, you look so good sucking my cock,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. The night air was warm, carrying the faint scent of salt and the promise of something wilder. Kiara’s eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze briefly before she focused again, her head bobbing rhythmically.
She deep-throated him, her throat constricting around his length, her hands gripping his thighs for leverage. Rafe’s breath hitched, his fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her gently but firmly.
Kiara’s movements were deliberate, her lips moving up and down his shaft with practiced ease. Rafe leaned back further into his seat, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice strained. Kiara hummed softly around him, the vibration sending a shiver down his spine. She pulled back slightly, her lips sliding up his length, her tongue tracing the veins that pulsed beneath his skin. Rafe groaned, his hands tightening in her hair, but instead of urging her to continue, he pulled her off his cock.
Kiara looked up at him, her dark eyes glistening with desire, her lips swollen from their recent activity. Rafe leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His taste was familiar, intoxicating, and Kiara moaned softly into the kiss, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He broke the kiss, his hands moving to her hips, pulling her closer. With a swift, playful slap, he smacked her ass, the sound echoing faintly in the night air.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled, his hands roaming over her curves. Kiara smirked, her confidence radiating as she leaned into his touch. Rafe’s fingers gripped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples,
He leaned down, sucking one peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling lazily as Kiara arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips.
The night seemed to close in around them, the world narrowing to just the two of them on the yacht’s deck. Rafe’s hands were everywhere, his touch both demanding and reverent. He pulled away from her breasts, his breath hot against her skin as he positioned himself at her entrance.
His thick tip pressed against her wet pussy, and Kiara groaned, her head falling back as she grabbed the seat behind Rafe’s head for support.
“Fuck, Rafe,” she whispered, her voice breathless. He didn’t hesitate, slamming into her with a force that made her gasp.
Rafe set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward as he filled her completely. Kiara’s nails dug into the leather of the seat, her body trembling with each thrust.
Kiara’s hair fell forward, wild and tangled, brushing against his cheek as she rode him—each slow, desperate grind pushing them closer to the edge. Rafe’s jaw tightened, eyes locked on the way her lips parted in a silent gasp, her head tipping back just enough for him to catch the line of her throat.
A sudden buzz, sharp and insistent.
The sound sliced through the thick, burning air of the cabin like a blade. It rattled against the table where he’d tossed it, the screen lighting up with a name neither of them bothered to read.
For a heartbeat, Kiara froze, breath catching hard in her chest. Rafe’s eyes flew open, dark and blown wide, sweat dripping from his temple. His hand tightened on her waist, as if to keep her from slipping away.
“Don’t,” he rasped, voice shredded and low, heat and command tangled in every syllable. His thumb brushed her skin, coaxing. “Ignore it. Just… don’t stop.”
Kiara swallowed, pupils blown wide and dark, a flicker of something wicked crossing her flushed face. Slowly, deliberately, she rolled her hips down into him again—harder this time—drawing a ragged, helpless groan from his chest.
The phone kept ringing, screen flashing like a ghost in the dark.
The phone kept vibrating across the low table, its insistent buzz cutting through the dark, heated hush of the cabin. Kiara rocked against him again, breath catching in her throat—but Rafe’s jaw tightened, a flash of annoyance sparking hot in his chest.
With a rough, breathless growl, he gripped her hips, forcing her to still in his lap. Her thighs trembled around him, the sudden stop leaving her gasping, pupils blown wide with confusion and lust.
Rafe dragged his gaze to the screen, sweat dampening his brow.
The name glared back at him, white against the dark glass.
For a heartbeat, he almost let it go.
Then something darker—something twisted and vicious—lit behind his eyes.
“Fuck it,” he rasped under his breath, voice ragged with want and spite. He snatched the phone off the table, thumb swiping to answer.
Kiara’s breath hitched, eyes flashing with startled thrill as Rafe pressed the phone to his ear, the other hand sliding down her back.
“Yeah?” he drawled, voice rough, torn between a laugh and a growl.
Before Sofia could say a single word, he shifted his grip, palm flattening over the curve of Kiara’s ass.
Then, sharp and deliberate—crack—he slapped her.
The sound ripped through the yacht , echoing against the polished walls, mixing with the low rustle of Kiara’s choked gasp.
Rafe’s breathing went ragged, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Sorry,” he murmured into the phone, dark amusement crackling behind every syllable, his gaze locked on Kiara’s flushed face. “Bit busy right now.”
And with his thumb digging into her skin, he pushed her hips down into him again—holding the phone so she could hear the ragged groan that broke free of his chest, letting the heat and wrongness of it burn them both alive.
Rafe’s grip on Kiara’s hips had turned bruising, muscles taut and veins standing out in his forearms as the phone stayed pressed between his ear and shoulder.
On the other end, Sofia’s voice crackled through—soft, apologetic, too sweet
“Rafe… baby, please. I made a mistake, okay? I shouldn’t have lied. Just… forgive me, we can fix this.”
His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as anger flared hot behind his ribs. “Sofia,” he hissed, voice shredded and low, “I’m done with your bullshit. You scammed me, you lied to my fucking face—”
Kiara shifted in his lap, them. Her eyes caught his, dark and wicked, and she leaned in, lips brushing the side of his neck.
She kissed him there—slow, soft, a promise and a dare—and let her teeth graze just under his jaw. Rafe’s voice faltered, breath hitching, heat flooding through him so fast it burned.
On the other end, Sofia kept pleading, words blurred and desperate. But Kiara didn’t stop. Her lips traced up to his ear, breath hot as she whispered, low and teasing him.
Then, bolder now, Kiara lifted herself, rolling her hips and bouncing down harder into his lap. The sharp, wet slap of skin against skin filled the space between them, filthy and intimate.
Rafe’s eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling as he tried to hold on to what he was saying. “You—fuck—Sofia, you don’t get to—”
But the next thrust of Kiara’s hips pulled a deep, guttural groan from him, raw and broken, tearing right through the end of his words.
Sofia went silent on the other end, shock or pain—he didn’t know, didn’t care.
Kiara’s lips found the soft spot below his ear again, her breath shaking, chest rising and falling fast as she bounced harder, faster, her thighs clenching around him. His fingers dug into her waist, nails biting skin, every shred of focus slipping away as he let out a strangled, “Fucking—Kie…”
The wet slap of Kiara’s hips against his thighs, the choked sound of her breathless gasps, and the deep, broken groan Rafe couldn’t bite back—all of it spilled through the speaker, bleeding right into the dead hush on the other end of the line.
For a moment, Sofia didn’t speak—only the crackle of the connection, the sound of her sharp inhale, like realization had stabbed her clean through.
“Rafe?!” Her voice broke the tremor barely covering the fury underneath
Rafe—oh my God, are you with someone right now?”
Kiara, lips still ghosting the side of his neck, her breath hot and shaking. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it ached, sweat dripping from his temple.
His eyes locked on Kiara’s, pupils blown wide and dark, and something cold and final settled in his chest.
“Yeah,” he rasped into the phone, voice low and stripped bare of apology. His hand slid down to squeeze Kiara’s thigh, his other holding the phone steady, even as her hips rolled again, slower this time—taunting, deliberate.
Sofia’s breath hitched, the sound catching on a sob
Right now? How could you do this? After everything—”
He cut her off, voice hoarse but steady, his chest still heaving from Kiara’s relentless, grinding rhythm.
“We’re done, Sofia,” he ground out, the finality in his tone sharp as broken glass. “You scammed me. You lied. And I don’t give a fuck anymore. There’s no going back. Not this time.”
Kiara’s nails dug into his shoulder, her lips finding his jaw, and her body rocked against him harder—like she needed to hear him say it as much as Sofia needed to be crushed by it.
Sofia sobbed something sharp and raw on the other end, but Rafe didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. His eyes stayed locked on Kiara, voice falling to a ragged whisper meant only for her, even as the phone still clung to his ear.
Kiara’s breath came ragged, chest flushed and rising fast as Sofia’s muffled, furious voice kept bleeding out of the phone. Her eyes locked on Rafe’s, pupils blown and wild—heat and something darker sparking behind them.
Without a word, she reached out, fingers closing tight around the phone still pressed to his ear. In one swift, reckless move, she snatched it from his hand and tossed it aside—the device bouncing off the cushions, clattering onto the floor, the call cutting off mid-scream.
Rafe’s chest heaved, jaw tight, the anger and relief crashing together in his veins. Then his stare snapped back to her—hungry, feral, undone. His hands slid down, palms rough against her slick, heated skin, gripping her ass so tight she gasped.
“Fucking mine,” he rasped, voice shaking with how badly he meant it.
Then he surged forward, catching her mouth in a kiss that tasted like salt, sweat, and victory—deep, bruising, claiming. He stood, muscles flexing under her as he lifted her clean off his lap. Kiara gasped against his lips, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his buzzed head.
Rafe barely broke the kiss, stumbling forward with her in his arms, breath ragged. He turned, her weight balanced against him, until her back hit the cool, polished surface of the yacht’s bar table. Bottles rattled, the soft clink of glass swallowed by the wet, desperate sounds of their mouths colliding again.
Kiara’s hair spilled wild around her shoulders, moonlight catching the flush on her chest as Rafe pressed her down onto the table—hands still gripping her ass, dragging her hips to the edge so their bodies stayed locked together.
His breath burned hot against her lips as he pulled back just enough to look at her, voice low and torn:
“Say it,” he rasped, chest heaving, his forehead resting against hers. “Say you fucking want this.”
Her breath trembled, lips still brushing his, the faint sting of his rough grip burning sweet across her skin. She met his stare—dark, raw, almost broken open with want—and in a shaky whisper that tasted like surrender, she breathed, “I fucking want this, Rafe… I want you.”
Rafe’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, a guttural sound ripping low from his chest—half relief, half animal. His hand slid up her thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise, dragging her closer to the edge of the table until her back barely balanced on its surface.
Their mouths collided again, messy and hungry, teeth clashing. His other hand fisted in her wild, wavy hair, tugging her head back to bare the long line of her throat. He pressed his lips there, breath hot, kissing and biting down her neck, feeling her pulse jump wild under his tongue.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped against her skin, voice shredded with need, hips rolling against her in a promise that made her whimper.
You want it that bad?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and shaky. “Want me to ruin you right here? Let anyone watching from the fucking shore see what a needy mess you are for me?”
Kiara shuddered, her nails biting into his shoulder, hips jerking up toward him without thinking. “Yes,” she gasped, voice cracking around the word, eyes going dark and glassy. “Fucking yes, Rafe. I don’t care—just do it.”
Rafe’s breath came ragged, sweat dripping from his brow, his jaw tight with the effort to keep from completely losing himself. His hands slid under Kiara’s thighs, gripping hard, and he pushed her legs back, spreading her open on the polished bar top until her knees nearly brushed her chest.
Kiara gasped, a sharp, breathless sound that cracked into a low whimper. The stretch burned down her hips, a low cramp curling through her thighs from the angle—but it was buried under the crushing, dizzying pressure of him inside her.
The cold edge of the bar dug into her spine, and the bite of discomfort blurred into something sharper, something darker. Her wavy hair spilled wild across the wood, sticking to her damp skin, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Rafe’s gaze dropped, pupils black and wild, watching the way she took him, the way her lips parted in a half-broken moan. “Fuck—look at you,” he rasped, voice ruined, shaking with restraint slipping between his fingers. “You don’t even care, do you? As long as you feel me—”
His hips snapped forward, deep enough to punch a cry from her throat. Kiara’s fingers scrabbled for the edge of the bar, nails biting into slick wood, her vision going hot and white at the edges.
“I—Rafe—fuck,” she gasped, voice catching on every broken syllable.
“Too much?” he ground out, breath burning hot against her cheek—but even as he asked, his hips rolled deeper, slower, dragging out the friction until her legs trembled.
“No—no,” she breathed, desperation twisting every word, her brows knitting at the sweet, brutal pressure building low in her stomach. “Don’t stop—please don’t fucking stop.”
Rafe’s thumb traced the inside of her thigh, rough and shaking, and he pushed her knees back even further, burying himself until her back arched off the bar. Her muscles tightened, half from the deep cramp in her thighs, half from how ruinously full she felt.
“Fuck, Kie,” he groaned, voice breaking, sweat dripping from his temple to her chest. “You’re so fucking wet—you feel so fucking good—”
Underneath them, the polished wood of the bar table had gone slick with sweat, salt, and the blurred edges of pleasure and desperation. Smears of heat and damp clung stubbornly to the grain, the shine dulled by the press of her back, his grip on her thighs, and the frantic drag of her hips meeting his.
Tiny droplets of sweat had splattered across the surface, catching the low light in uneven, glistening streaks. Threads of her hair, damp and darkened, stuck stubbornly to the wet spots where her skin had burned against the wood.
The steady, wet slap of his hips meeting hers echoed off the polished walls, the sharp, rhythmic sound of his balls striking against her with every deep, hungry thrust. It was raw, unfiltered, shameless.
Kiara’s broken moans tangled with Rafe’s guttural groans, the air thick with the ragged music of want. Each noise spilled from them unrestrained—half curse, half confession—mixing into something almost ugly in its honesty, yet so desperate it felt holy.
Their bodies moved in frantic, uncoordinated unison—driven by nothing but heat and the raw need to get closer, closer still. And for that fevered moment, the world beyond the yacht simply ceased to exist; there was only the slap of skin, the harsh drag of breath, and the reckless, shared sound of two people losing themselves in each other completely.
Rafe’s breath rattled harsh and uneven in his chest, sweat dripping from his temple to the hollow of his throat. His grip on Kiara’s thighs tightened, knuckles whitening, and then—abruptly—he stopped.
The slap of skin fell silent, replaced by the thundering pulse in their ears and the ragged scrape of their breathing. His hips stilled, buried deep, and then he drew back—slow, deliberate, the movement dragging heat and slick over every inch until Kiara gasped, chest rising sharp and shallow.
She lay there for a heartbeat, back arched on the bar, vision swimming, the sudden emptiness biting through the haze of pleasure.
Then Rafe’s hands slid around her waist, palms rough and hungry, guiding her off the slicked surface. His breath came out in a low, guttural rasp, voice cracked and raw: “Not done with you yet.”
He turned her—slow but forceful—until her chest pressed against the cool, damp wood of the bar, her flushed cheek grazing a streak of sweat left behind. Her hair spilled wild and tangled around her face, the strands clinging to damp skin.
Rafe’s hands planted firm on her hips, thumbs pressing bruises into soft flesh as he bent her forward, arching her back until her ass pushed back against him. His own breath trembled, jaw clenched so tight it ached, pupils blown black with want.
Rafe’s gaze flickered over her, pupils blown and chest still heaving. Sweat glistened along the curve of Kiara’s back, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts against the cool wood.
For a moment—almost tender in its roughness—he reached forward, his fingers tangling through her wild, damp waves. Carefully, deliberately, he swept her hair over one shoulder, baring the soft line of her neck to the hush of the space and the burn of his stare.
Then he leaned in, his breath hot against sweat-damp skin, and pressed his mouth to her neck—slow, searing kisses trailing from the curve of her shoulder up to the spot just below her ear. His lips parted there, teeth grazing lightly, tasting the salt and heat of her.
Kiara’s breath caught, a soft, broken whimper spilling out, her back arching instinctively toward him.
Rafe’s hand slid down her waist, calloused fingers sinking into the warm flesh just above her hip, steadying her as his other hand moved around her chest. His palm closed over her breast—rough, possessive—his thumb brushing over her nipple in a slow, deliberate circle that pulled another ragged gasp from her throat.
Kiara’s fingers curled around Rafe’s hands where they pressed into her skin, her nails grazing lightly as she pulled him closer without breaking contact. She turned her face just enough to meet his lips in a heated, desperate kiss—soft at first, then deepening with every breath.
Rafe’s mouth opened to hers, hunger raw and immediate, and he took that moment, that flicker of surrender, to slide inside her slowly, savoring the tight warmth that clenched around him.
A low groan rumbled deep in his throat as he began to pump—steady, slow, each movement measured but heavy with need. His other hand found its way back to her ass, gripping hard, fingers digging in as if to mark her as his.
Kiara’s breath hitched in her throat, the slick press of skin against skin, the raw ache of his rhythm pulling at every nerve. She clung to him, lips parted and eyes closed, lost in the relentless, burning pull between them.
his chest pressed to her back, sweat-slick skin clinging where they touched. Rafe’s rhythm deepened, slow and deliberate, each thrust sending heat curling low in Kiara’s belly until she could barely draw breath.
Her hand slid back to grip his hip, nails biting into the hard muscle, a broken moan catching in her throat as the wet slap of skin echoed softly around them
Rafe bent lower, his mouth finding her neck again, breath shaking against her damp skin. “Kie…” he rasped, voice hoarse and raw. “I’m—fuck—”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, the words catching on a gasp, her thighs trembling around him. “Don’t you fucking stop…”
His hand slid up her stomach, palm pressing between her breasts, grounding them both as his pace grew rougher, deeper, the world narrowing to the hot drag of him inside her, the raw sound of their bodies colliding, and the ragged music of shared need.
The pressure coiled tight, snapping in a rush of heat that left them both trembling. Kiara cried out, head tipping forward, hair falling wild around her shoulders as release ripped through her. Rafe followed a breath later, a guttural groan spilling from his chest, burying himself to the hilt as every muscle in his body locked tight.
For a few heartbeats, nothing existed except the ragged tangle of breath, the salt-and-sweat taste of skin, and the distant hush of waves against the hull.
Rafe stayed close, his forehead pressed to her shoulder, their bodies still locked together. Slowly, his hand eased from its bruising grip on her hip, sliding up to brush sweat-damp hair from her face.
“You good?” he murmured against her skin, voice low, raw, but softer now—something almost gentle under the ruin of it.
Kiara’s breath shook as she turned her head just enough to see him, lashes still heavy, lips swollen. “Yeah,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile catching at the corner of her mouth. “Better than good.”
Outside, the sea stretched black and endless under the moon. Inside, they stayed tangled together, the heat fading but the weight of what had just happened settling in: messy, raw, real—and theirs alone.
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