As the night deepened, Lex and Sharon retreated to Lex's quarters—the most luxurious room on the yacht, situated below the waterline with a panoramic glass wall that should have offered views of the depths. The excuse was the window, the sea, the novelty of it all. But the moment they descended the narrow staircase, the truth became obvious: beyond the glass stretched only perfect, lightless black, the ocean invisible in the darkness.
Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them turned back.
The room itself seemed to breathe with them—climate-controlled air, the faint hum of the yacht's engines vibrating through the floor, the subtle sway of the vessel on calm waters. Lex found the remote and put on some movie, something loud with explosions that neither of them would remember. They settled onto the plush sectional, ostensibly to watch, but within minutes Sharon had shifted closer, fitting herself against his side until he could feel the heat of her through both their clothes.
The tension built in small increments. A hand on a thigh. A thumb tracing idle patterns. When she finally turned and cupped his jaw—her palm warm, her thumb brushing his cheekbone—he was already waiting for her. The first kiss was brief, experimental, just a press of lips. Then she came back for more, and this time her mouth opened immediately, her tongue seeking his with an urgency that made his pulse jump.
Lex let his hands wander, mapping the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine. His supernatural gift—the ability to read desire like a language—flared to life, showing him exactly where to touch, how much pressure, when to linger. He broke from her mouth and traced a path down her throat with his lips, finding a spot just beneath her ear that made her breath hitch. When he sucked there, she made a soft, broken sound and arched into him.
"Fuck," she breathed, and her hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up with trembling fingers.
He helped her, stripping it off and tossing it aside. His own hands weren't idle—he palmed her ass through her dress, kneading, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him. His mouth continued its descent, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone, dipping lower toward the valley between her breasts. He could taste her perfume, something warm and spicy, and beneath it, the salt-sweet tang of her skin.
Sharon's hands slid down his chest, his stomach, not stopping until they reached the waistband of his trousers. She hesitated for only a second—long enough for him to feel the anticipation tighten in his gut—then pushed inside, wrapping her fingers around him.
He was only half-hard and already substantial, heavy and hot in her grip. She stroked him once, twice, and he swelled further against her palm, thickening until she let out a low whistle.
"Damn," she said, her voice rough with appreciation. She glanced up at him, something wicked glinting in her eyes. "You're packing right there."
Without waiting for a response, she sank to her knees between his legs, the plush carpet cushioning her. Her fingers worked his belt open, his zipper down, and then she was peeling back fabric, freeing him completely. The cool air of the room hit his overheated skin, but her breath was warm, hovering just inches away.
She looked up at him, waiting for permission—or maybe just enjoying the moment, the power of having him laid bare and wanting.
Sharon didn't rush. She started with her tongue, dragging the flat of it up the underside of his shaft in one slow, deliberate stripe. Lex's head fell back against the couch, a groan rumbling from his chest. She did it again, circling the head, tasting the bead of arousal already gathering there, before finally—finally—she took him into her mouth.
The wet heat of her enveloped him, and she hollowed her cheeks as she sank lower, taking him inch by inch. The sound was obscene: soft, rhythmic slurps as she bobbed her head, the occasional catch of her breath through her nose, the wet pop when she pulled back to swipe her tongue around the tip before diving back down. Lex watched her, transfixed by the sight of his cock disappearing between her lips, her hand working what she couldn't fit, stroking him in tandem with the movement of her mouth.
"Christ, Sharon," he ground out, his fingers finding her hair—not pulling, just resting there, feeling the slide of silk against his palms.
She moaned around him, the vibration making him twitch and thicken further in her mouth. She was relentless, working him with lips and tongue and the occasional scrape of teeth, until he was fully hard, straining and heavy against her tongue. Only then did she release him with a final, filthy slurp, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock before she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
She stood slowly, unhurried now that she had him where she wanted him—desperate, flushed, his cock standing rigid against his stomach. Sharon held his gaze as she reached behind herself, unzipping her dress and letting it slide down her body to pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, then her underwear, standing before him completely bare.
Lex drank her in. Her breasts were perfect—high and perky, nipples peaked and flushed a deep rose. His eyes tracked down to the defined ridges of her abdomen, the six-pack that spoke of discipline and strength, and lower still to her hips, her waist, and those thighs—thick and powerful, the kind that could squeeze and hold and drive him wild.
"You're fucking gorgeous," he said, his voice hoarse.
He moved before she could respond, surging up from the couch and catching her around the waist. She yelped, surprised, then laughed as he lifted her easily—she was solid muscle, but he was stronger—and carried her the short distance to the bed. He tossed her onto the mattress, and she bounced, her breasts swaying with the motion, her hair fanning out against the pillows.
Lex climbed onto the bed after her, spreading her legs and settling between them. He wanted to taste her, to use that supernatural intuition to find every sensitive spot between her thighs and make her scream. He started to lower his head, his breath ghosting over her skin—
"Wait." Sharon sat up on her elbows, her eyes dark and urgent. She reached for him, grasping his shoulders and pulling him up until he was hovering over her, his cock brushing against her stomach. "Don't. I need you inside me. Now."
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, her hips tilting up in open invitation. "Fuck me, Lex. Immediately.”
"As you wish," Lex murmured, the smile in his voice darkening into something hungrier. He aligned himself against her, the thick head of his cock resting at her entrance, hot and heavy. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and claiming, and then—slowly—he pushed inside.
The stretch was immediate, intense. Sharon gasped into his mouth, her nails raking down his back as he filled her inch by deliberate inch. Her body yielded to him, wet and welcoming, but he was big, and she felt every millimeter of his invasion. When he bottomed out, fully seated inside her, he paused, letting her feel the completeness of it, the way he owned the space between her hips.
He pulled back just enough to see her face—and there it was, that look of stunned pleasure, her eyes fluttering, her mouth falling open on a silent oh. Then he started to move.
"Nnngh—fuck—" The sound tore from her throat, raw and involuntary. He thrust again, deeper, angling his hips just so, and her eyes actually rolled back, her head pressing into the pillow. "Lex—oh god—"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." she chanted, her voice already breaking. Her teeth gritted as she tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but he could feel it slipping. "Lex... why are you so fucking good at this..."
"Well," he breathed against her jaw, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, "if I'm gonna have sex with you... I gotta perform... my best... right?"
He sat back on his heels, gripping her thighs and pushing her legs wider, changing the angle so he hit that spot inside her with every stroke. The shift in position made her cry out, her hands flying to grip the sheets, then her own breasts, then back to the mattress—searching for something to anchor her as the pleasure mounted.
"Ah—ah—ah—" The moans came rapid-fire now, high and breathy, almost whimpering. "Ah, ah, ahhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—"
She was losing herself. The confident woman who had knelt before him, who had taken him into her mouth with wicked eyes, was crumbling beneath him. Her hips tried to meet his thrusts at first, but soon she stopped trying, stopped fighting for control. Instead, she simply took what he gave her, her body going pliant, her legs falling open wider, her hands gripping the headboard above her as if surrendering to the inevitable.
"Please," she gasped, and the word sounded wrecked, desperate. "Please, Lex—"
He didn't slow down. If anything, he fucked her harder, the slap of skin against skin filling the room, mixing with her broken cries. He could feel her tightening around him, fluttering, her body racing toward the edge.
"Ah—ah—ah—ahhhhhh—" Sharon's back arched violently, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream before the sound finally ripped free: "Fuuuuuck!"
She came hard, her body seizing, her walls clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses that dragged a groan from his own throat. But Lex didn't stop. He didn't give her a moment to recover. He kept driving into her, through her orgasm, extending it, forcing her to ride the wave until she was sobbing with it, her hands now clutching at his arms, his shoulders, begging.
"Lex—Lex, I can't—oh god, oh god—too much—"
But her hips were lifting to meet him now, her body betraying her words, hungry for more even as she shattered. She was his completely now—submissive, overwhelmed, his—taking everything he gave her and whimpering for more."Lex..." The word came out broken, barely audible after her third climax had ripped through her. She was on her hands and knees, trembling, her thighs slick with sweat and arousal, her body still convulsing from the aftershocks. He was behind her, his cock buried to the hilt, his hips flush against her ass from where he'd been pounding her through orgasm after orgasm without mercy. "...give me a little break," she gasped, her arms shaking, barely holding her up. "Fuck my mouth instead."
Lex paused, his grip on her hips tightening, his own breath ragged and harsh in the quiet room. He looked down at her—at the arch of her back, the sheen of sweat on her spine, the way she was still clenching around him involuntarily—and then he was moving, withdrawing with a wet sound that made her whimper, leaving her empty and aching.
He circled around to where her head hung low, her blonde hair matted to her forehead, her chest heaving. Sharon lifted herself up on trembling arms, her eyes glazed but hungry, her lips already parted. She didn't wait for him to guide himself to her—she leaned forward and took him herself, her hand wrapping around the base, her tongue darting out to taste her own arousal mixed with his pre-come.
"Open," he commanded, his voice rough, and she obeyed immediately, her jaw going slack, her eyes lifting to his with something like worship.
Lex threaded his fingers through her short blonde hair, gripping tight—not pulling, but holding, controlling—and he pushed forward. He didn't ease in. He'd been gentle once, at the start, but that time was past. Now he buried himself in one smooth, relentless thrust, feeling her throat open around him, the tight, wet heat of it enveloping him completely.
Sharon gagged around him, her eyes watering, but she didn't pull back. She stayed there, impaled, her nose nearly touching his stomach, and then she swallowed—the muscles of her throat contracting around him, massaging him—and Lex's vision went white at the edges.
"Fuck," he gritted out, and started to move.
He fucked her throat with the same rhythm he'd used on her pussy—deep, punishing strokes, using her mouth exactly how he'd used her body. The sounds were obscene, wet and rhythmic: the gluck-gluck-gluck of her throat being breached, the soft choking noises she couldn't suppress, the slap of his hips against her face. Drool spilled from the corners of her lips, coating her chin, dripping onto her breasts. She'd gone completely pliant again, her hands braced against his thighs, not pushing him away but simply holding on, letting him use her, her throat a tight sleeve for his pleasure.
He was close—he could feel it building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening, his thrusts losing their rhythm. He pulled back, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop, her lips swollen and glistening, her chest heaving.
"I'm close," he warned, his voice barely recognizable.
Sharon looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes, her mascara slightly smudged, her chin wet with spit. A smile curved her lips—slutty, wrecked, completely unashamed. "Fuck yes... finally," she breathed, her voice hoarse from the abuse. "Just dump it all in my throat."
Lex groaned, his cock twitching at her words, and he pushed back into her waiting mouth. He started to thrust again, chasing his release, feeling the familiar tightness coiling—
Then Sharon did something unexpected.
As he buried himself to the root, she suddenly moved, her tongue wrapping around the underside of his shaft, pressing against that sensitive spot just beneath the head, and then she ground against him, her tongue undulating, massaging, working him even as he held still.
The sensation crashed over him without warning. His hips jerked, his grip in her hair tightening almost painfully, and then he was coming—hard—pulsing directly down her throat in thick, heavy spurts. Sharon took it all, her throat working to swallow, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands gripping his thighs as if anchoring herself to him while he emptied himself into her.
It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave, until he was spent, his legs shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He withdrew slowly, his cock sensitive, oversensitive, and Sharon let him go with one final, gentle suck that made him hiss.
She collapsed immediately, her body going boneless, falling flat onto the mattress with her arms spread wide, her chest still heaving, her throat working as she swallowed one last time. For a long moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, her hair a mess, her body marked and used and glowing.
Then she turned her head, her eyes finding his, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across her face—her smile, confident and knowing, even now.
"Fuck," she said, her voice rough as gravel, utterly spent. "If I had sex like this every day, I might quit my life and just be with you."