Chapter 16: Liam grips Dizzy's hips as he thrusts up into her, the water sloshing violently around them. Ben's deep grunts mix with Chloe's high-pitched whimpers as he pounds into her from behind, their four bodies moving in sync—a symphony of sweat, chlorine, and raw need.
The world narrowed to the junction of their bodies, to the slick, driving rhythm of Liam pumping into her on the pool’s rough edge. Dizzy’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wet concrete, her knuckles white. Each thrust jolted through her, a deep, internal massage that stole the breath from her lungs. The sounds were filthy, unabashed—the wet slap of his stomach against her thighs, the choked, rhythmic gasps he grunted into the crook of her neck.
“Fuck, Dizzy,” he rasped, his voice shattered. “You take it so good. Your cunt is fucking perfect.”
The crude praise, delivered with such raw reverence, unspooled something in her gut. She clawed at his back, her nails digging into the firm muscle, feeling the heat of his skin under her palms. She wanted to mark him, to claim this shocking, confident version of him as her doing.
A few feet away, the parallel scene unfolded. Chloe was bent over the same low wall, Ben standing behind her, driving into her with the steady, powerful pace of a man who knew exactly how his partner liked it. Chloe’s face was turned toward Dizzy, her cheek pressed to the cool stone, eyes glazed and mouth slack. She watched Dizzy watching her, and a lazy, complicit smile spread over her lips.
“You look… fucking incredible,” Chloe managed, her words hitching on a particularly deep thrust from Ben.
Dizzy could only moan in response. The voyeuristic charge, the shared debauchery, amplified everything. Her own pleasure coiled tighter, fed by the symphony of their collective gasps and the sight of her best friend lost in identical abandon.
Liam’s pace turned frantic, his hips pistoning. He hooked his hands under her knees, pushing them back toward her shoulders, spreading her wider, penetrating her deeper. The change in angle made her see stars.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, a strained confession.
“Do it,” she demanded, her own voice a guttural thing she didn’t recognize. “Come inside me, Liam. Fill me up.”
It was the permission he needed. With a broken shout that echoed off the water, he drove home and held, his body rigid. She felt the hot, internal pulse of his release, wave after wave, and the sensation triggered her own. It crashed over her without ceremony, a sharp, contracting vise that milked him dry, leaving her shuddering and blind.
For a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the gentle lap of pool water. Liam slumped forward, his forehead resting against her collarbone, his body weight a comforting, sweaty press.
From the wall, there was a final, sharp slap of skin, a choked cry from Chloe, and then Ben’s low groan. Then, another silence.
It was Ben who shattered it, his voice husky but light. “Well. That’s one way to heat the pool.”
A weak, delirious laugh bubbled out of Dizzy. Liam lifted his head, a slow, sated smile touching his lips. He carefully withdrew, helping her shaky legs back down into the water. The cool liquid was a shock, a gentle cleansing. Chloe straightened up, wincing slightly, and turned to lean against the wall, a look of pure, uncomplicated satisfaction on her face.
They drifted together in the shallow end, a tangled, spent knot of limbs. The sun was a bloody orange ember on the horizon, painting their skin in bronze and shadow. For a while, no one spoke. The world slowly seeped back in—the cry of a distant gull, the chirp of cicadas, the smell of chlorine and sex and sunscreen.
It was Liam who finally broke the quiet, his words for Dizzy alone, murmured so only she could hear. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
The old reflex to deflect, to make a joke, rose in her throat. But his eyes held hers, earnest and clear in the dying light. The shyness was gone, burned away in the fury of their coupling, leaving a startling, vulnerable honesty. She couldn’t cheapen it with sarcasm.
Instead, she reached for his hand under the water, lacing her fingers through his. She didn’t say anything. She just held on.
Later, wrapped in thick towels on the loungers, the dynamic had shifted. The earlier frenzy was replaced by a heavy, contented warmth. Ben passed around a bottle of water. Chloe leaned into his side, scrolling through her phone with a soft smile.
Liam’s arm was around Dizzy’s shoulders, his thumb absently stroking the damp skin of her arm. She fit against him with a surprising rightness, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“I’m starving,” Ben announced. “Like, actually need to ingest real food, not just each other.”
“Charcoal’s still hot,” Liam said. “Could do the rest of those burgers.”
The normality of it was absurd. Wonderful.
As they moved to get up, Dizzy’s phone buzzed on the small glass table. She saw the screen light up with a notification from a work Slack channel. The real world, with its deadlines and demands, existed. The bubble of the beach house wasn’t impermeable.
She caught Liam watching her look at it. A flicker of something—worry?—crossed his face. It was the same look he’d had when he first arrived, the shy uncertainty. Seeing it return felt like a small loss.
She put the phone face down and stood, offering him her hand. “Burgers,” she said, forcing a bright tone. “I’ll even let you put the shitty, plastic-y cheese on mine.”
The worry in his eyes cleared, replaced by a soft amusement. He took her hand, his grip firm. “A true romantic gesture.”
They walked inside together, the screen door slapping shut behind them, leaving the darkening pool and the empty chairs behind. The house smelled of smoked meat and sea air. Ben busied himself at the grill on the deck, Chloe slicing tomatoes at the counter inside, their chatter easy and familiar.
Liam stayed beside Dizzy as she got out plates. His presence was a constant, quiet warmth. But in the mundane act of setting the table, a cold thread of doubt began to weave through her. This was a weekend. A planned collision. What happened when the sun rose on Monday? When they returned to a city that didn’t feel like this, to routines that didn’t involve him looking at her as if she’d hung the moon?
He was Liam Walker. Shy, gorgeous, inexperienced Liam who, according to all known laws of her universe, should not be looking at her like that. The memory of his body on hers, in her, was visceral. But so was the memory of every other time a man’s interest had faded like a cheap tan, once the novelty wore off and her own sharp edges proved too much.
She placed a fork down a little too hard. The clatter sounded loud.
“Hey,” Liam said softly, from just behind her shoulder. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He just leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a private rumble. “I’m still here.”
She closed her eyes. For now, she thought. But she leaned back into his solid chest, letting herself believe, just for this last, darkening night, that it might be enough.