Page 51 of Thunder

"Sure, we'll keep it down. We’re almost done, anyway. He’s about to cum, and so am I," I reply sweetly, before moving to hang up the phone.

"Wait, let me talk to them," Marcus insists, snatching the phone from my hand. "Hey, it's the couple in the noisy room. We're almost done fucking each other's brains out. It’s been a rough damn day, so give us another half hour. That’s it. Any other fucking we do outside that half hour, I swear it’ll be quiet. But if you keep calling, I'm gonna come down there and show you what it really means to get fucked."

He slams the receiver down, a wicked grin plastered on his face. "Now, where were we?"

"Right here," I purr, rocking my hips.

He moves his in time with mine, filling me just right, taking me so deep my vision swirls with pleasure.

"Harder, Marcus, please!" I beg, my nails digging into his muscular arms as I ride him with abandon. He grips my hips, thrusting up to meet me with a ferocity that leaves us both breathless.

"Fuck, Lia..." he groans, his emerald eyes locked onto mine, filled with unbridled passion and desire. "You're so incredible..."

"Make me cum again, baby," I plead, feeling the familiar knot in my stomach tighten once more. “One more time.”

"Anything for you," he promises, slamming into me with renewed vigor.

Our bodies intertwine, sweat mingling and heavy breaths filling the air. The room is a cacophony of our moans, cries, and gasps. All that matters is this moment, the fierce connection between us that only grows stronger with each passing second.

"Marcus!" I scream, my vision blurring as I reach my peak, the pleasure shattering me, consuming me. His own release follows closely behind, his muscular arms pulling me down into his embrace as we both shudder and cry out in ecstasy.

"God, Lia," he pants against my skin, the heat of his breath making me shiver. "That was so fucking good, I feel like I’ve died."

"Perfect," I whisper, pressing my lips to his in a tender, lingering kiss. As we lay entwined on the rumpled sheets, our hearts pounding in sync. This man, this love, this passion—it's everything I've ever wanted and more.

Yet, an old saying echoes in the back of my mind, tugging at my heartstrings: You never know you're living in the good days until they're over.

How much longer will my good days last?

What if this beautiful, raw connection we share is fleeting, doomed to end in darkness?

"Hey," Marcus murmurs, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Nothing," I lie with a smile, not wanting to burden him with my fears and doubts. "Just... thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

"Damn right," he teases, nipping at my bottom lip playfully. "And don't you ever forget it."

As we drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms, I can't shake the nagging feeling that our time together is precious and limited.

Our enemies are circling, and they’re more dangerous than we ever imagined.

Chapter Twenty-One

Amelia

The pre-dawn horizon stretches out before me, serene, sublime, painted in soft, ethereal hues that make the entire world feel like some magical dream. The only sound disturbing the stillness is the distant, soft crash of waves against Costa Oscura’s rocky coastline, and the persistent crunching of Sera's boots against the gravel. Birds chirp, eagerly greeting the day that's slowly waking around me.

Sera's flashlight paints a path ahead of her, her stride sure and purposeful. I trail behind, doing my best to keep up, though with considerably less finesse. A treacherous root clutches my foot, causing me to stumble. I catch myself just in time, shooting a glare at the offending obstacle.

"Sera," I groan, a sound that clashes with the gentle beauty around me. "Why are we out here at this ungodly hour? My alarm doesn’t even think it’s time to rise."

Without breaking stride, she laughs, a light sound that floats back to me. "Oh, come on. You'll thank me when you see the light. There's nothing quite like the golden hour for painting."

By the time I formulate a witty retort, we're at our destination. The scene that greets us is pure magic: an expansive, shimmering ocean hugged by rugged cliffs, all under the pastel canvas of dawn. I'm momentarily speechless.

Sera unpacks her art supplies with a flair of showmanship, declaring, "Welcome to nature's own studio! No better place to pain than surrounded by inspiration and perfection."

I chuckle despite myself. "Only you could make waking up this early seem glamorous."

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