The Caribbean sun poured over them like honey, thick and golden, warming everything it touched. From the moment they stepped off the small seaplane onto the private island resort, Scott felt like they had crossed into another dimension—one where time bent, morals blurred, and reality softened into heat, salt, and skin.

They were no longer professor and student here.

No one knew them as Dr. Scott Jones and Sunshine.

Here, they were just two bodies glowing in the tropical light. Lovers. Co-conspirators. Addicts of each other.

Their villa sat on the edge of a secluded stretch of sand, half-shaded by palm trees that swayed with the breeze like they knew secrets. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the turquoise water, but curtains were never drawn—why hide, when you’ve already abandoned everything that made you careful?

Inside, white linens tangled from their first arrival—clothes flung, kisses stolen, the kind of raw, urgent sex that comes after weeks of restraint.

Now, hours later, Sunshine stood on the villa’s wraparound deck, naked except for one of Scott’s linen shirts hanging open over her glowing skin. The fabric barely reached her thighs, fluttering against her legs as she watched the tide roll in.

Scott came up behind her, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder.

“You look like a dream,” he murmured.

“I feel like one,” she said, leaning back into him. “Like I don’t exist anywhere but here. With you.”

His arms wrapped around her waist, his hands already sliding beneath the shirt. “That’s because the world isn’t real right now. Only this is.”

She turned in his arms, eyes dark and hungry. “Then make it feel real again.”

He lifted her easily, carrying her back through the sliding doors to the cool tile of the bedroom floor. She laughed softly, legs wrapped around him, lips tracing his jaw, neck, the hollow of his throat.

And then he laid her down.

This time, there was no rush—only worship.

Scott’s mouth traced every inch of her sun-kissed skin, pausing at her hips, inner thighs, the smooth cleft he already knew by heart. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her breath coming faster as he licked and sucked her gently, expertly, until she was shaking beneath him.

When he entered her, the ocean whispered outside, a steady rhythm that matched the slow grind of his hips. Their bodies moved together in lazy, decadent waves—no shame, no past, no future. Only this moment. This bed. This escape.

She came with a cry muffled into his shoulder, and he followed soon after, groaning her name like a prayer cast into the salt-heavy air.

Afterward, they lay tangled in each other, the scent of sex and sun lotion and tropical flowers thick around them.

“Do you ever want to go back?” Sunshine asked softly.

Scott didn’t answer at first.

Then, “I don’t know if I can.”

Dinner and Dressed to Tease

The sun melted into the horizon, setting the ocean ablaze with golds and oranges as the resort’s private chef lit candles at their oceanside table. A low table, low lighting, and two seats tucked just above the tide line—exclusive, intimate, and drenched in warm breeze and promise.

Scott arrived first, dressed in light trousers and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his forearms. He watched the waves, sipped a chilled rum cocktail, and tried not to let his anticipation get the better of him.
Then he saw her.

Sunshine approached like the island had created her—barefoot in the sand, her long hair catching the last of the light, and wearing a slip of a dress so sheer, so barely-there, it seemed to whisper rather than cover. It clung to her in the breeze, swaying around her thighs and revealing the soft lines of her body in suggestion, not apology.

He stood as she reached him, unable to stop the smile that curved at the corner of his mouth. “Jesus…”

“Too much?” she asked, clearly knowing it wasn’t.

“You’re trouble,” he said, pulling out her chair.

“I hope so.”

Dinner began with clinking glasses and a delicious, delicate meal of grilled snapper, fresh mango, and coconut rice. But Scott had trouble focusing on anything except Sunshine’s foot sliding gently up his leg beneath the table.

“You’re distracted, Professor,” she teased, swirling the last of her cocktail with her finger. “Something on your mind?”

He cleared his throat, then leaned forward slightly. “You. Under this table. It’s making it a challenge to concentrate.”

She grinned, shifting in her seat, the hem of her dress falling a little farther up her thigh. “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

Scott nearly dropped his fork.

She giggled softly, then began tracing slow, maddening circles on the inside of his thigh with her toes. His body reacted instantly, and she could see it in the way he adjusted in his seat, in the grip of his hand around his glass.

“I think it’s time we head back,” he said.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

The Professor's Turn

Back at the villa, Scott didn’t wait. The door had barely closed before he pressed her against it, kissing her hard, hands firm on her hips.

“You think you’re in charge tonight?” he growled softly against her neck.

Sunshine gasped as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I was… hoping for a little resistance.”

“Oh, you’re going to get it.”

He carried her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed with far less ceremony than the night before. This wasn’t slow worship.

This was claiming.

Scott pulled the sheer dress from her body with one swift motion, baring her completely beneath him.

Then he tied her wrists with the sash from the robe she’d discarded earlier—tighter than she’d tied his. His voice dropped low, commanding, deliberate.

“No touching. No talking. You’re mine tonight.”

Sunshine’s eyes were wide, lips parted, already panting.

He kissed her like he meant to break her open, hands sliding roughly over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She squirmed, already wet, already begging with her body. He teased her mercilessly—fingers brushing just where she needed him, then pulling away. Tongue tracing over her folds, only to pause and kiss her thighs instead.

She whimpered.

He growled.

And then he slid into her with one powerful thrust, making her cry out into the darkness.

He set the pace—firm, deep, relentless—but every movement was wrapped in intent. He held her eyes, gripped her hips, and bit her shoulder. She writhed beneath him, tied and trembling, completely his.

“You don’t get to tease me and get away with it,” he whispered into her ear, thrusting harder now. “You wanted me to take control? You have it.”

And she loved it.

Her release came hard and fast, her body convulsing around him, lips gasping his name like worship. He wasn’t far behind, spilling into her with a ragged moan, falling forward, his body collapsing over hers.

When he finally untied her wrists and pulled her into his arms, she nestled against him, dazed and glowing.

“I love when you take over,” she whispered sleepily.

He smiled into her hair. “Good. Because that was just the beginning.”

Bound to Her

Scott lay on his back, breath still ragged, arms wrapped around Sunshine’s warm, satisfied body. Her skin still shimmered with sweat, and her legs were tangled with his beneath the sheets. She rested her head against his chest, quiet and still.

But beneath the calm, something was shifting. He felt it in her fingertips. Light, lazy circles that slowly turned more intentional. He felt it in her breath… No longer sleepy, but thoughtful. Focused.

When she lifted her head to look at him, there was something different in her eyes.

“What?” he asked softly, brushing hair from her face.

Sunshine kissed his chest once, then leaned up, straddling his waist with slow confidence. “I want to try something.”

Scott arched a brow, amused and intrigued. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Her smile deepened. “No. A gift.”

She reached down beside the bed and pulled something from the drawer. A silk blindfold. Then, from beneath the bed, a small velvet pouch. He hadn’t even noticed her slide it there earlier.

“Trust me?” she asked.

He nodded, voice already thick. “Always.”

The blindfold slid over his eyes, plunging him into darkness. Instantly, his awareness shifted. Every sound, every brush of skin, every breath amplified. His world was hers now.

She kissed him once—deep and slow—then reached for the robe’s sash again, tying his wrists to the headboard. Not tight. Not aggressive. But firm. Securing. Claiming.

“You don’t get to touch me this time,” she whispered near his ear, her voice velvet over steel. “You only get to feel me.”

Scott swallowed hard, his cock already twitching to life between them.

He felt her slide down his body, heard the soft clink of something opening.

A toy? He wasn’t sure what. The anticipation hit like heat.

Sunshine’s fingers danced lightly over his thighs, teasing the crease of his hips but never touching where he needed her most.

“Sunshine…” he groaned.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

She ran a cool, silicone-tipped vibrator over his abdomen, his inner thighs, his nipples—everywhere but where he ached. He gasped at the contrast—heat in his core, cool teasing at the edges.

Then her hand struck him. Not hard. A light, rhythmic spanking to his inner thighs, his ass, his hip.

A wake-up call. A claiming.

“Good boy,” she said when he groaned, legs twitching beneath her.

“You like that?”

He nodded, voice hoarse. “Yes…”

And then her mouth was on him—wet, slow, purposeful. She sucked just the head of his cock, keeping him teetering, her hand stroking with practiced precision. Then she stopped. Silence. Scott’s hands flexed against the binds. His chest heaved.

“Please…”

“No,” she whispered, crawling back up his body. “Not yet.”

He felt the pressure at his entrance next—a plug, slick and smooth. She pressed it in gently, watching his reactions, her palm soothing over his hip. He gasped again, surprised at the sensation—strange and forbidden and intimate all at once.

“You’re perfect like this,” she murmured. “Completely open. Completely mine.”

He shuddered… Sunshine mounted him again, grinding herself against his thigh, moaning softly, her arousal rising with every sound he made, every twitch, every held breath. Then, finally, her hand wrapped around him again, stroking him slowly. The blindfold stayed on, but he could feel her breath on his neck, her thighs tight against his hips.

“Are you going to cum for me?” she whispered.

“Yes. God, yes…”

“Not yet.”

She stopped again. His cry of frustration was half-laughter, half-plea.

“You are so mean,” he panted.

“I’m loving you,” she corrected. “By taking my time.”

When she finally let him finish—after another eternity of touch and pause, moans and denial—it was with both her hands on him, her mouth at his ear, and her voice whispering, “Now. Let go for me.”

He came undone, hips arching off the bed, every muscle clenched, blinded and bound and completely hers.

She untied him gently, pulled the blindfold away, and kissed him with the sweetness of every inch of trust he’d given her. Scott opened his eyes and smiled, dazed.

“That was…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Sunshine curled against his side, smug and glowing. “You’re mine now.”

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I was always yours.”

The Morning Light
The sky was beginning to blush when Scott woke.

For a long while, he didn’t move. Sunshine was curled into his side, still sleeping, her breath soft and even against his chest. Her body was relaxed and peaceful, with one leg draped over his, her fingers lightly curled against his stomach.

He brushed her hair back from her face, studying her in the hush of dawn.

Everything was quieter now. No blindfolds. No games. Just two people tangled in the sheets, the sea whispering through the open windows, and the weight of a decision Scott had been carrying for too long beginning to lift.

He hadn’t meant to fall for her. Not like this. Not fully.

But something about Sunshine had cracked him open. Her confidence, her fire, her tenderness. The way she saw him, not just the professor, and not just the man stuck in a life that had stopped being his long ago.

He kissed her forehead gently. She stirred, eyes fluttering open, sleepy and soft. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

She looked up at him, and there was something quiet in her gaze. “You okay?”

He nodded, then hesitated.

“No,” he said. “Not entirely. But I’m getting there.”

She sat up a little, concern blooming across her face. “What’s wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve been living in limbo. Married in name, disconnected in truth. I thought I could carry on like that. Keep things neat. Private. Harmless.”

“And now?” she asked, voice barely above a breath.

He turned to her then, eyes clearer than she’d ever seen them.

“Now I can’t lie to myself anymore. I don’t want to.”

Sunshine searched his face. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to leave her,” he said, simple and sure. “Not because of you, Sunshine. But because of me. Because I can’t keep living half a life.”

She stared at him, stunned—but not with fear. With something deeper. Hope. Relief. Love.

“But I do want you,” he added, reaching for her hand. “I want to see what this could be. With no shadows. No hiding.”

Tears welled in her eyes, unspilled, but shimmering.

“I wasn’t going to ask you to choose,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I am doing it.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him like she was afraid to let go, burying her face in his neck. He held her back just as tightly.

Outside, the first gulls cried into the morning, and the sea kissed the shore in soft, endless rhythm.

For the first time in years, Scott didn’t feel torn.

He felt free.

And as Sunshine held him, still tangled in love and sweat and the salt-streaked air of the island, he knew this wasn’t just an affair.

It was a beginning.