The screen went black, then Carlos tapped it again, staring at the letters. Can we talk? Three words that would have sent him scrambling for a flight back to Portugal twenty-four hours ago. Now, they just looked like indecision or a goodbye. He didn't unlock the phone. He didn't type a reply. He just sat there on the edge of the bed, the morning air cool against his bare skin, listening to the crunch of gravel outside as Eleni walked back. A moment later, her shadow fell across the terrace tiles. She walked in, wearing a loose, flowing white kaftan that caught the morning breeze, carrying a copper tray. The smell of strong, dark-roasted coffee and warm phyllo dough filled the room, instantly warring with the cold, digital dread in Carlos's stomach. "Spanakopita," she announced, setting the tray on the low table. "And coffee that is basically mud and caffeine. The breakfast of champions." She turned to him, a smile ready, but it vanished the second she saw his face. She didn't ask what was wrong; her eyes flicked to the phone in his hand, then back to his eyes. "The suitcase?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave. Carlos took a breath, the air in his lungs feeling heavy. He turned the screen toward her so she could read the notification. "The ghost is knocking," he said, his voice steady but quiet. "Help me keep the door shut."
Eleni didn't flinch. She walked over to the side of the bed, her movements deliberate. She set her own coffee down on the nightstand and took the phone from his hand. Her fingers were warm and dusted with a little bit of flaky pastry crust. She read the message. A small, scoffing sound escaped her lips—somewhere between a laugh and a curse. "She misses you," Eleni said, reading the subtext rather than the words. "In Porto. Where it is probably raining. And she realizes that she is alone and should have been here." She looked up at Carlos, holding the phone like it was a piece of sea glass she’d found on the beach. "Look at me," she commanded. Carlos looked up. "She is a collection of pixels," Eleni said, gesturing with the device. "She is a magnetic signal bouncing off a satellite in space. She is not here. I am here. I am flesh, and blood, and I have fresh spinach pie."
She sat down on the bed beside him, the mattress dipping under her weight, bringing her scent of sea salt and coffee right into his personal space. "You asked for help," she murmured, leaning in close until her nose brushed his. "So I will help you. We do not negotiate with ghosts. We exorcise them." She tapped the screen, unlocking it - the passcode he had foolishly left off. "Reply?" she asked. "No," Carlos said. "No reply." "Good." Her thumb hovered over the screen. "Block contact. Delete conversation. She pressed the Reply button with a satisfying, final decisiveness. Then she turned the phone around and activated the camera, quickly taking a picture of the two of them close together, and in a commanding moment, hit Send before tossing the phone across the bed. It landed face down on a pile of his clothes. "Gone," she declared. She reached for the cup of thick, black coffee and pressed it into his hand. "Now, drink. The past is bitter, agapi mou, but this coffee is better." She picked up a piece of the warm spanakopita, breaking off a flaky corner. "And today, I have a plan. We are going to the black sand beach at Perissa. We will swim, we will eat fresh octopus, and don’t you think about her." She leaned forward, her lips brushing his jawline in a gentle, teasing warning. "If you do, I will drown you myself. She is a no-show."
Carlos took a sip of the sludge-like coffee. It was intense, shocking his system awake. "Deal," he said. "Forget it," she said, standing up and dusting the pastry crumbs from her hands. "Your phone is a paperweight now. Get dressed, agapi mou. The black sand is waiting, and I don't like to keep the sea waiting." An hour later, the ghost of Catarina felt a million miles away. They took the scooter down the winding switchbacks, the engine whining as they descended from the cliffs of Oia toward the southeast side of the island. Eleni drove this time, insisting that Carlos needed to "enjoy the view," which mostly consisted of her wind-swept silhouette and the terrifyingly beautiful drop into the caldera. When they arrived at Perissa, the heat was a physical weight. The famous black sand beach stretched out like a ribbon of dark velvet against the impossible blue of the water. "Shoes off," Eleni ordered as they hit the sand. "You have to feel the burn. It makes the water better."
She wasn't kidding. The black volcanic sand absorbed the midday sun, radiating a heat that made them skip and run laughing toward the shoreline. They dropped their towels on two empty loungers under a thatched umbrella and didn't stop until they hit the water. The Aegean was cool and crisp, a shock that washed away the last lingering cobwebs of the morning. They swam out past the breakers, treading water where the sea turned a deep, navy blue. Eleni floated on her back, her black bikini striking against the dark water, her eyes closed against the sun. She looked entirely at peace, a creature of her element. "You see that rock?" she asked, pointing a wet arm toward the massive Mesa Vouno mountain that loomed over the end of the beach. "My grandfather used to say the Titans dropped it there to protect us from the wind." Carlos paddled closer to her, the water buoyant and salty. "I think the Titans knew what they were doing." She treaded water, turning to face him, water beading on her shoulders. "And the photo?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes. "Do you regret it?"
Carlos thought about the phone lying on the pile of clothes, the image of them in the morning light now sitting in Catarina's inbox. "No," he said honestly. "I don't." Eleni grinned, splashing water at him. "Good. Now, race me to the buoy. Loser buys the octopus." Carlos lost the race to the buoy—distracted, perhaps, by the effortless way Eleni cut through the water like a dolphin—so he bought the octopus. They ate it at a small shack with peeling blue paint, washing it down with cold Mythos beer as the afternoon sun began to lose its harsher edge. As the crowds started to thin, drifting back toward the hotels and bus stops, Eleni didn't move toward the scooter. Instead, she pointed her chin toward the massive rock formation of Mesa Vouno at the far end of the beach. "Tourists stop where the umbrellas end," she said, finishing her beer. "But the best spots are in the shadows of the mountain."
She grabbed his hand, her palm rough with sand and salt, and led him away from the main strip. They navigated through a maze of large volcanic boulders that had tumbled down from the cliffs centuries ago. The deeper they went into the rocks, the muffled sound of the beach bars faded, replaced entirely by the rhythmic crashing of waves against stone. They found a small cove, hidden from the beach by a wall of jagged basalt. It was a private pocket of the world, shaded by the mountain but still warm from the day’s heat radiating off the black stones. "Here," she whispered, backing him up until his shoulders hit the warm rock face. They were hidden, but the thrill of the open air was still there. The sea was only a few feet away, spraying a fine mist over us every time a larger wave hit the shore. Eleni knelt down into the space between his legs, pressing her wet body against his as she started to tease his cock through his trunks. Her bikini was still damp, cold against his skin, but the heat emanating from her was undeniable. "You lost the race," she murmured, her hands sliding up his thigh, tracing the muscles of his abdomen. "But I think you are winning now." he groaned, burying his hands in her damp, salty hair. "I definitely feel like I'm winning." She kissed his trunks as a tease just above his cock then, hard and deep as she lowered his trunks and took his cock in her mouth. It wasn't the desperate, frantic energy of the night before; this was slower, heavier. It was the confidence of a woman who knew she had me entirely to herself.
Her hands wandered taking turns stroking his shaft. The sensation of her cool fingers against his hot skin made his breath hitch. He reached down, gripping her hair, pulling her flush against him. She pulled strap of her bikini bottom, the black fabric loosening just enough to give him access to her breasts, her eyes fluttering shut as he massaged them. The sound of the ocean provided the perfect cover for her sharp intakes of breath and the low moans she couldn't suppress. It was raw and primal, driven by the sun, the salt, and the absolute freedom of the moment. They were two specks on a rock in the middle of the Aegean, oblivious to everything but the friction and the heat. Without any warning the moment arrived as he came in her mouth. She reached around and pulled on his butt to take him deeper down her throat to savor each drop. When they finally pulled apart, chests heaving, the sun had dipped below the mountain ridge, casting the cove in a deep, violet twilight, Eleni smoothed her hair back, her lips swollen and red, a triumphant smirk on her face. She re-tied her bikini strings with slow, deliberate movements. "Okay," she said, her voice husky. "Now we can go home."
The headlight of the scooter swept across the gravel driveway, illuminating the white walls of my villa, and then, a figure sitting on a backpack. Carlos slammed on the brakes, the scooter skidding slightly in the dust. His heart hammered against his ribs. Catarina stood up. She looked tired, her clothes rumpled from travel, but she was still stunning—delicate features, soft brown hair, and eyes that looked like wet earth. She opened her mouth, stepping toward him, her hand raising in a tentative wave. "I..." "No." The voice wasn't his. Eleni hopped off the back of the scooter before the engine had even died. She didn't remove her helmet immediately; she just marched forward, placing herself physically between Carlos and Catarina. She looked like a gladiator confronting a trespasser. "You do not speak to him," Eleni said, her voice low and dangerous. She pulled off her helmet, shaking her wild black hair free. "You had days to speak. You chose silence. Now, you listen." Catarina looked from him to Eleni, her eyes widening. The contrast was stark: Catarina’s soft elegance against Eleni’s fierce, earthy power.
"I just wanted to explain," Catarina stammered, looking at me over Eleni’s shoulder. "I created the photo," Eleni interrupted, stepping closer to her. "I sent it. So I will deal with the it." Eleni reached out, not aggressively, but with an authority that brooked no argument, and took Catarina’s hand. "Come." She looked back at him. "Go to the pool. Wait." It wasn't a request. He watched, stunned, as Eleni led his ex-lover up the path and through the front door of his villa as he was left standing in the dust, the engine ticking as it cooled. He did as he was told and walked around the side of the villa to the back terrace. The night was hot, the air still heavy with the day's sun as he stripped off his clothes and slid silently into the plunge pool. The water was cool, offering a moment of clarity.
The bathroom window was open, just a few feet away from the pool edge. The interior shutters were slanted, allowing light to spill out but obscuring the view. But the acoustics of the stone villa were treacherous; he could hear every word. "Look," Eleni’s voice floated out, echoing off the tiles. He imagined them standing there. The bathroom was exactly as they had left it this morning. The water had drained, but the tub would still be ringed with dried rose petals. The half-eaten block of cheese, the empty wine bottle, and the melted wax of the candles were a chaotic still-life of the intimacy they had shared. "This is where we were," Eleni said. "When you decided to text." There was a long silence. Then, Catarina’s voice, softer, trembling slightly. "It looks... intense. You didn't waste time." "Time is for people who show up, kouto koritsi," Eleni replied sharply. "You left a void. Nature abhors a vacuum. I filled it." "I got scared," Catarina admitted. "In Porto. It became real, and I ran. I always run." "And now you ran here," Eleni countered.
"I wanted to see who..." Catarina paused. The tension in the room seemed to shift. Carlos could hear the rustle of fabric, footsteps moving on the tile. "I wanted to see who replaced me." "And?" Eleni asked. Her tone had lost its sharp edge. It was lower now, curious. "You are..." Catarina hesitated. "You are everything I am not. You are free. You look like you could tear the world apart with your hands and yet are unbound by life." "And you," Eleni said, her voice dropping to a murmur, "are not so delicate. Your work makes you like a bird that doesn't want to fly against the wind. Beautiful, but afraid outside of her familiar, controllable place." He held his breath, treading water silently. "I expected to hate you," Catarina said. "I expected some... some tourist fling. But you're..." "Real?" Eleni suggested. "Intimidating," Catarina corrected. "And... yes. Beautiful. In a way that makes it hard to look away." "You have good eyes," Eleni purred, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I see why he wanted you back in Porto. You have a face that makes a man want to protect you. Even I feel the urge, and I am the one who dragged you in here." "I have no right to be here," Catarina whispered. "I know that. We were never... official. Just a few days really. I broke it."
"And I have known him for twenty-four hours," Eleni said, a chuckle escaping her. "I am the neighbor who brought spanakopita. I own nothing. He is not property. He is a man who was hurt." The silence that followed was different. It wasn't tense; it was charged. "So," Eleni said, and he heard the distinct sound of her leaning against the vanity counter. "Here we are. Two women, both single, both beautiful, standing in a bathroom that smells of dead roses and sex, fighting over a memory and a possibility. Neither of us has a claim." "No," Catarina agreed breathlessly. "Turn around," Eleni commanded, but softly this time. "Let me look at you properly. The light in the driveway was poor." There was a pause. "Your skin is perfect," Eleni noted, her voice thick with sudden appreciation. "Like milk. It must burn easily here." "It does," Catarina replied. "Yours is like gold." "Olive," Eleni corrected. "And salt." He heard a sharp intake of breath from Catarina. "You're touching me." "I am checking for reality," Eleni whispered. "You are not a ghost after all."
"Neighbor!" Eleni’s voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the humidity. "The water in the pool... is there room for three? Or is this a vessel only for the lonely?" Carlos didn't answer with words, he just swam to the edge nearest them and rested his arms on the cool stone coping, looking up. The bathroom light framed them in the doorway. Eleni stood tall, her kaftan billowing slightly, looking like a high priestess. Catarina stood beside her, looking small and incredibly uncertain. "Come," Eleni said, nudging Catarina forward. They walked out onto the terrace. Catarina stopped a few feet from the pool's edge, hugging her arms around her waist, her gaze fixed on the water but refusing to meet his eyes. "Why, Catarina?" he asked, the water lapping quietly against his chest. "Eleni thinks you were scared. I think you were just managing your winery." Catarina flinched. She looked down at her feet, kicking a loose pebble. "It wasn't just the distance," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It was the winery. The harvest is coming. The bottling lines, the distributors, the staff... everything relies on me. If I step away, the chaos starts. I have to control it. I have to hold it all together."
"Control," he repeated, the word tasting bitter. "You stayed in Porto because you know where every bottle is. You know where every key hangs." "It’s my life," she defended, finally looking at him, her eyes wet. "It’s safe. It’s ordered. Coming here... to you... it felt like jumping off a cliff without checking the depth."
Carlos shook his head slowly, water dripping from his hair. "You didn't always need to check the depth. Do you remember the reserve cellar? The one below the river line?" Her breath hitched. Even in the moonlight, he saw the flush rise on her neck. "I remember," she breathed.
"I remember the smell of the oak casks," he continued. "I remember how you wouldn't stop constantly moving. So I took your freedom, tied your hands and legs and fucked you until you came again and again”. Eleni shifted beside her. He could feel her attention sharpen, a predator sensing a change in the wind. "You struggled at first," he said, locking eyes with Catarina. "You gave me orders. You told me to stop. But when I didn't... when I made you cum until you couldn't remember your own name, let alone the bottling schedule... where did all that control go that night, the following nights?" Catarina shivered, her hands uncrossing, her posture opening up as the memory took physical hold of her. "It... it went away," she whispered. "I felt... free." "You felt free because you surrendered," he said. "You stayed in Porto because freedom terrified you." Beside her, Eleni made a low sound in her throat—a purr of pure, unadulterated arousal. She was looking at Catarina with new eyes. She wasn't looking at a rival anymore; she was looking at a canvas.
"A wine cellar," Eleni murmured, stepping closer to Catarina. "Tied up. Unable to move. Unable to lead." Eleni moved into Catarina's personal space. Catarina tried to step back, an instinctive retreat to safety, but Eleni’s hand shot out, gripping the back of Catarina's neck. It wasn't a gentle caress; it was a firm, grounding hold that froze Catarina in place. "You are trying to think," Eleni whispered, towering over her. "You are trying to calculate the risk of this moment. I can see the gears turning in your pretty head." Catarina looked up, her lips parting, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire. "I..." "Stop," Eleni commanded. Eleni leaned down and crushed her mouth against Catarina’s. It wasn't a kiss of affection. It was a kiss of disorientation. Eleni swept her tongue into Catarina's mouth, claiming the space, overwhelming her senses. She tilted Catarina's head back at a severe angle, exposing her throat, forcing her to cling to Eleni’s shoulders just to stay upright. Carlos watched from the water, mesmerized. Catarina’s hands fluttered uselessly for a second before gripping the fabric of Eleni’s kaftan. She melted. The rigid posture of the winery owner vanished, replaced by the pliability of the woman in the cellar.
Eleni broke the kiss but didn't let go. She kept her face inches from Catarina’s, her dark eyes blazing. "You have no decisions to make here, mikro mou," Eleni hissed, her voice thick with lust. "You are in my territory now. And in my territory, you do not lead. You follow." She looked down at him in the water, a wicked grin slicing across her face. "She is trembling," Eleni told him, running her other hand down Catarina's spine. "She is terrified. And she is wetter than the pool." "You think too much," Eleni murmured, her lips hovering just millimeters from Catarina’s trembling mouth. "And you act too little." Eleni didn't give her a chance to respond. She didn't give her a chance to breathe. With a sudden, fluid shove of her palms against Catarina’s chest, she sent the smaller woman flying backward. Catarina let out a short, shocked yelp before she hit the water with a chaotic splash. The impact shattered the stillness of the pool, sending waves rocking against his chest. She went under completely, weighed down by her travel clothes, and surfaced a second later, sputtering, her brown hair plastered to her face, her blouse translucent and clinging to her skin like a second casing. "Eleni!" she gasped, wiping water from her eyes, looking entirely like a drowned kitten. Eleni didn't apologize. She stood on the edge of the coping, looking down with the imperious gaze of a deity demanding a sacrifice. Slowly, deliberately, she reached for the tie of her sheer kaftan. She pulled it loose, letting the white fabric flutter to the stone deck.
She stood there for a beat, naked and magnificent in the moonlight, her athletic body gleaming, her full breasts high and proud, her hips curved and strong. She was the absolute antithesis of the woman flailing in the water. "You came to Santorini dressed for a negotiation about why you didn't come," Eleni scoffed, stepping to the edge. "Here, we dress for the occasion." She slipped into the water, not with a splash, but with a silent, predatory slide. She barely made a ripple. Catarina tried to back away, moving toward the far wall, but the water made her slow, her heavy clothes dragging at her limbs. Eleni cut through the water like a shark, closing the distance in two powerful strides. She caught Catarina against the rough stucco wall of the pool. Eleni pressed her body flush against Catarina’s, trapping the fully clothed woman between the hard wall and her own naked heat. "You ran away," Eleni whispered, her hands diving into the water to grip Catarina’s waist, digging her fingers in through the wet fabric of her skirt. "You left a man who wanted you because you were afraid of losing control. So now... I am taking it from you."
Carlos watched from the edge of the pool, entranced. The visual was striking—Eleni’s olive skin against Catarina’s wet, white blouse; the dark, wet hair of both women tangling together. "Please," Catarina whimpered, but she didn't fight. She went limp, that submissive switch flipping just as it had in the wine cellar. "Hands," Eleni commanded. She grabbed Catarina’s wrists and wrenched them behind her back. Catarina gasped as her chest was thrust forward, her breasts heaving against Eleni’s breasts. "He said he tied you," Eleni hissed into her ear. "I don't need ropes. My hands are stronger." She held both of Catarina’s wrists in one strong hand behind the small of her back, pinning her effortlessly. With her free hand, Eleni reached for the collar of Catarina’s soaked blouse. Riiip. The sound of the buttons popping was sharp and violent. Eleni tore the shirt open, exposing Catarina’s pale skin and lace bra to the cool night air. "This is your punishment," Eleni declared, her voice low and husky. "You are not allowed to touch. You are not allowed to speak. You are only allowed to feel. You made him wait for a month? Then you will wait until I say you are finished."
Eleni’s hand moved down, not gentle, but possessive. She cupped Catarina’s breast through the wet lace, squeezing hard, claiming it. Catarina threw her head back, a broken moan escaping her throat as Eleni’s thigh drove between her legs, pressing firmly against her wet pussy, pinning her to the wall with the weight of her body. Eleni looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes dark and wild. "Come here," she ordered. "She is ready to apologize."
The sound of the tearing blouse was just the beginning. "These," Eleni sneered, her hands moving with ruthless efficiency, "are barriers." She didn't fumble with clasps or buttons. With Catarina pinned firmly against the wall by the weight of her body, Eleni reached around and unsnapped the wet bra, stripping it away and tossing it onto the pool deck. Next came the skirt. Eleni’s hands shoved the sodden fabric down over Catarina’s hips, dragging the panties with it. Catarina kicked her legs, helping more than hindering, desperate to be free of the heavy, dragging weight. Within seconds, Catarina was naked, her pale body glowing in the underwater lights, pressed against the rough stucco. "Hands behind your back," Eleni ordered. She grabbed Catarina’s wrists again, locking them together in a one-handed grip that was iron-tight. Catarina whimpered, her chest heaving, her nipples hard from the cold water and the fear. "Now," Eleni whispered against her ear. "You watch. You appreciate what happens when you don't run away." Eleni turned her head, locking eyes with Carlos. She reached out with her free hand, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him crashing into her. She kissed him—wild, messy, and claiming.
"Take me," she commanded, loud enough for Catarina to hear. "Right here. Let her see."
He didn't hesitate and lifted Eleni, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He pressed her against the wall, just inches from where she had Catarina pinned. They were so close that every time he thrust into Eleni’s pussy, the water displaced by their bodies washed over Catarina’s face, her eyes were wide and fixed on them. She watched the way Eleni threw her head back, the way her nails dug into his shoulders, the raw, uninhibited noise she made—a sharp contrast to the silent, controlled woman Catarina tried to be. Eleni was putting on a show, yes, but it was real. She was marking her territory, showing the intruder the sheer electric violence of the connection they had built in twenty-four hours. "You see?" Eleni gasped, looking sideways at Catarina, her face flushed. "He doesn't need to tie me up to make me feel. I give it freely."
When the wave of pleasure and her orgasm hit Eleni, she cried out, her body shuddering against Carlos. She rode the aftershocks for a moment, then slowly untangled her legs, sliding down his body until her feet found the pool floor again. She didn't let go of Catarina’s wrists for a second. "She is ready," Eleni murmured, her voice dropping to a predatory purr. She turned Catarina around so she was facing him, but Eleni remained behind her, pressing her breasts against Catarina’s back, her chin resting on Catarina’s wet shoulder. "Now," Eleni whispered. "We share." Eleni tightened her grip on Catarina's wrists, arching the smaller woman’s back, presenting her to Carlos like an offering. Catarina let out a broken sob of relief as his hands finally touched her. He ran his palms from her waist up to her breasts, cupping them, feeling the erratic thrum of her heart beneath the skin. Behind her, Eleni was busy too. She kissed the sensitive slope of Catarina’s neck, biting lightly, while her free hand slid down between Catarina’s thighs, finding the spot that had been neglected for two months.
Catarina was besieged. Sensations hit her from every angle—his mouth on her lips, Eleni’s teeth on her neck, his hands on her body, Eleni’s fingers working her pussy rhythmically. She was trapped between the past she loved and the present she feared, and she was unraveling completely. "Please," she begged, her head lolling back against Eleni’s shoulder. "Please, I can't... it's too much." "It is not enough," Eleni corrected. She released Catarina’s wrists suddenly. Catarina slumped forward, catching herself on his chest. "To the steps," Eleni ordered. "Shallow end." She grabbed Catarina by the hair—not painfully, but firmly—and guided her toward the wide, submerged steps of the pool. "On your knees," Eleni commanded. "Total submission. You want to serve the winery? No. Tonight, you serve the villa." Catarina dropped to her knees on the second step, the water lapping at her waist. She looked up at them, wet, shivering, and utterly defeated. The moonlight caught the tears mixing with the pool water on her cheeks. Eleni stood on one side of her, Carlos stood on the other. They towered over her. "Beg," Eleni said simply. "Please," Catarina whispered, looking between them, her eyes dark with a mixture of shame and desperate need. "Use me. Take control. I don't want it anymore." Eleni smiled, a terrifyingly beautiful expression. She reached down, tilting Catarina’s face up. "Good girl. Now, show him how sorry you are. And then... show me."
Catarina didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, the water sluicing off her shoulders, and took Carlos’s cock into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming—the contrast of the cool night air, the lapping water, and the searing heat of her mouth. She worked with a desperation he had never felt from her in Porto. There, she had been controlled, measured. Here, stripped and commanded by Eleni, she was fervent. Her tongue swirled, her suction tight, her hands gripping his thighs to anchor herself as the water buoyed her body. Carlos groaned, his head falling back, staring up at the stars. He was close, the edge approaching rapidly, his hips snapping forward instinctively. But just as the pressure began to peak, she pulled back. "Not yet," she whispered against his wet skin as she turned her attention to Eleni. She moved on her knees through the water, burying her face between Eleni’s thighs. Eleni gasped, her hands tangling instantly in Catarina’s wet hair, holding her there. Catarina was relentless. She used her tongue and fingers in perfect unison, teasing Eleni’s clit with a flicking, rhythmic intensity of her tongue that made the stronger woman’s knees buckle. Eleni leaned back against the pool wall, her eyes rolling back, a guttural sound of approval rumbling in her throat.
"Yes..." Eleni hissed, her hips bucking involuntarily against Catarina’s face. "Like that. Worship it." Catarina kept up the torment, switching back to me for brief, maddening intervals, then returning to Eleni, keeping them both hovering on the precipice of release but denying them the fall. It was a dizzying display of service, a frantic attempt to atone for her absence. Finally, Eleni had enough. "Stop," she commanded, her voice ragged. Catarina froze, looking up with wide, fearful eyes, water dripping from her chin. "Did I...?" "You have served enough," Eleni said, her chest heaving. She reached down, grabbing Catarina by the arms and hauling her up from the steps so she was floating between them. "Now, you become the object. We are going to break you apart and put you back together." Eleni spun Catarina around so her back was to him. "Take her," Eleni ordered, her eyes dark with intent. "Fill her ass."
Carlos stepped in, gripping Catarina’s hips and entered her ass in one smooth, slow, deep push. Catarina cried out, her head falling back onto his shoulder, the water supporting her weight as he filled her completely. Eleni didn't stand idly by. She moved to Catarina’s front, face-to-face. While he established a hard, relentless rhythm in her ass, driving Catarina into the water with every thrust, Eleni went to work. She kissed Catarina deeply, swallowing her cries, while her hand slid down between their bodies and started teasing her clit. Eleni found the slick, swollen pearl of Catarina’s desire and clamped down on it with her fingers, rubbing in circles that matched the tempo of his hips. "Feel us," Eleni growled against Catarina’s lips. "Everywhere." Catarina was besieged. Surrounded by water and heat, filled by Carlos and mastered by Eleni, she had nowhere to go but over the edge. Her first orgasm hit her like a physical blow. She screamed into Eleni’s mouth, her inner muscles clamping down on him so hard it nearly finished him right there. She arched violently, splashing water onto the deck, her body seizing in ecstasy. But Eleni wasn't done.
"Again," she whispered. She pulled Catarina away from him, dragging her to the side of the pool. "Up." They lifted Catarina onto the cool stone coping of the pool deck, leaving her legs dangling in the water. Carlos moved between her thighs, leaning over her, pinning her upper body to the stone, kissing her neck, her breasts, biting lightly at her nipples. Eleni moved between Catarina’s open legs in the water. She buried her face in Catarina’s pussy, her tongue flat and broad, lapping at her with a hunger that was terrifyingly erotic. "Oh god, oh god," Catarina sobbed, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the wet stone tiles. He didn't stop as he used his hand to penetrate her pussy, mimicking the rhythm Eleni was setting with her tongue, while he whispered filthy reminders of the wine cellar into her ear. The combination of his voice, his fingers, and Eleni’s mouth sent her spiraling again. She shook, her heels drumming against the pool wall, crying out in a high, keen wail that echoed off the villa walls as a second, even more powerful wave crashed through her.
They didn't let her rest. For the next hour, they moved her—against the wall, floating in the center, bent over the steps. They took turns, working in tandem, using her body until she was nothing but a trembling, boneless mess of endorphins and exhaustion. When the final climax subsided, leaving her gasping and half-drowned in pleasure, Eleni pulled her into a tight embrace in the shallow end. "There," Eleni whispered, smoothing the wet hair back from Catarina’s face. "Now you are clean."
Catarina laid sprawled on the cool stone of the pool deck, her chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths. She looked like a beautiful shipwreck, her wet hair fanned out around her head, her skin glowing pale in the moonlight, utterly spent. Eleni stood over her for a moment, admiring her handiwork, before turning her dark eyes to Carlos. She wasn't finished. Her energy was boundless, fed by the night and the adrenaline. "She is broken," Eleni whispered, a wicked smile curling her lips. "But I still have energy to burn. And you... you have been very patient." She took his hand and led him to one of the teak lounge chairs that faced the caldera. She pushed him down so he was lying flat on the cushion, then climbed onto the lounger with him. She didn't lie beside him; she spun around, straddling his face, while settling her own mouth over him.
The connection was instant and electric. The 69 position was a perfect circuit of pleasure. He tasted the salt of the Aegean and the sweetness of her arousal, his tongue tracing the swollen folds that Catarina had just worshiped. Above him, Eleni worked with a ravenous hunger, her throat relaxing to take him deep, her hands gripping his hips to control the rhythm. He looked past the curve of Eleni’s thigh to see Catarina. She had propped herself up on her elbows. She wasn't looking away. Her eyes were dark, dilated, and fixed on them. She watched the way Eleni moved, the way his hips lifted to meet her. He could see a flush rising on Catarina’s chest again; despite her exhaustion, the visual of them—the raw, uninhibited power of Eleni and his surrender to it—was waking her back up. Eleni quickened the pace, a low moan vibrating against his groin. He matched her, his tongue flickering, driving her higher. They were caught in a feedback loop, each groan spurring the other on. "Now," she garbled against him, her body tensing as he let go, thrusting his hips upward as she clamped down, her mouth milking him while he drank in her own sweet release. She shuddered violently, her thighs squeezing his head, crying out into his skin as they both went over the edge together, the pleasure sharp, blinding, and absolute. They laid there for a long time, tangled and breathless, the only sound the distant bells of a goat herd on the cliffs and the gentle lap of the pool water. Eventually, Eleni slid off him, curling into his side.
That was when Catarina moved. She crawled across the stone deck, moving slowly, like a cat stalking prey, until she reached the foot of the lounge chair. She rested her chin on her folded arms, looking up at them in the afterglow. Her wet hair dripped onto the wood. She didn't look scared anymore. And she didn't look submissive. A slow, calculating smile spread across her face—the kind of smile she used to wear in Porto when she was closing a massive distribution deal. The submissive fog had lifted, replaced by a sharp, terrifying clarity. "You know," Catarina said, her voice raspy but steady. She reached out, running a finger down Eleni’s calf, then shifting to trace his ankle. "I was worried about the harvest. I was worried about managing the staff, the logistics, the pressure." She looked from Eleni to Carlos, her eyes gleaming with a newfound greed. "But I realized something tonight," she purred. "I don't need to choose between control and freedom. I need a team." She stood up, the water sliding off her naked body, and looked down at them with an imperious, possessive glint in her eye. "Eleni has the fire I lack," she stated, tilting her head. "And you... you are the anchor we both need."
She stepped between the V of his legs at the end of the lounger, placing a hand on Eleni’s shoulder and one on his chest. "I'm not going back to Porto alone," she announced, the twist hanging in the air like smoke. "And I'm not leaving you here. We are going to need a bigger villa. Because from now on... I am keeping both of you and will go back and forth as will both of you. I need entertainment at the winery and I realize now I also need to escape the winery. We all win" They knew there were a great many things to discuss but for the next two weeks, they were completely attached to each other. They went to Eleni’s club to watch her perform and have dinner and then would come back to one of the two villas and other days they went to the beach and enjoyed each other and then came back to the villas. Over the course of the two weeks they worked out many of the details and it turned out that the three of them being constantly connected, not chained to one another, but respectfully joined to one another was the perfect answer for all of them, and in no time Carlos was moving all of his belongings to Santorini and leaving a few things behind in Porto. They all came to realize, like D. Blanding’s poem The Double Life, they could feed and please the many facets of each other and all be happy without convention, titles or outside demands.
Images from the Internet, as imagined
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