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I leaned across the tub and kissed her.
She tasted of champagne and mint. For about two seconds she froze, and then she made a low sound in her throat and hauled me on top of her, the water slopping over the sides, my knees either side of her hips and her hands all over me. She slid my swimsuit straps down. Her mouth found my breast and I gasped at the sky.
“I’ve wanted this for two years,” she said. “I could kill you.”
“Do it,” I said. “Do it with your fingers.”
She pulled my bikini bottoms aside and slid two fingers into me under the water, thumb on my clit. I rode her hand with my fingers digging into her shoulders, the jets thumping my back, the heat and the night air and her mouth on my neck, until I came with a shout that scared a bird off the roof.
Then I went down on my knees on the underwater bench, spread her thighs and ate her out right there, the water up to my chin, her fingers knotted in my hair, her heels drumming my back. She came with a long, shaking cry and said “Fuck, Dani” about nine times.
We went back to her room. We did it again, and again, until it got light.
In the morning I woke up alone. There was a sticky note on the pillow in her handwriting. It said, “Don’t make it weird. Don’t make it nothing. Breakfast?”
I read it for ten minutes. Then I went to breakfast.
Ending 11 of 16: Steam. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.