Beautiful Savage

Simone...

The emptiness inside me is giving more space for unnecessary thoughts and vague feelings. They gather like vagrants in a forgotten alley—noisy, useless, and impossible to evict. I endure their stench in silence.

The white sands of Boracay gleam like diamonds trapped in lightning. The brilliance is too much—each grain of sand fighting for attention, yet all of them diminished by the overwhelming sun. Even beauty, when surrounded by too much light, can lose its intensity.

I’ve traveled the world, from the quiet alleys of Prague to the choking chaos of Mumbai. I don’t remember landmarks or postcard details, only how places make me feel. Palpable realities are abundant; sentiment, however, is scarce.

At midday, I sit in a small seaside bar—wooden tables, salt-stained air, the low hum of an island too tired to perform for tourists. I like it here. The silence between people feels honest.

Then I notice him.

A man in the corner, drinking alone, his posture exuding a deliberate kind of solitude. Tall, broad shoulders, hair the color of sunlit wheat. The wind tousles it across his face, but his blue eyes remain fixed on me. Piercing. Insolent. I raise an eyebrow, almost daring him to look away. He doesn’t.

I’m not easily moved by men. They are, in my experience, distractions—too loud, too needy, too certain of their importance. Yet something about his gaze annoys me precisely because it feels like a challenge I didn’t agree to play. I smirk to myself. A staring race. Childish. I lose by choice.

I stand, smooth down my yellow summer dress, and walk to the counter. The fabric clings lightly to my skin, floral and deceptive. My colleagues always told me my “innocent face” could make empires fall if I wanted it to. They didn’t know I already had.

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away—slowly, deliberately. Seduction, after all, is a language I speak fluently, even when I pretend to be silent.

Back in my suite, I drop my clothes and stand before the mirror. The room is nature-inspired, all wood tones and artificial calm. I am the opposite—pale skin, gray almond eyes, and a body sculpted from both discipline and defiance. My breasts—24DD, annoyingly heavy, strategically useful. My height—five foot six, perfect for blending in or standing out, depending on intent.

After my workout and a few calls, I trade my yellow dress for a black Nirvana shirt and sandals. Tourists pass me like drifting waves—loud, aimless, easily amused. I wander until a rooftop bar sign catches my eye. The sunset is about to perform its daily illusion of meaning; I want a front-row seat.

The elevator opens to a bow-tied man who greets me too politely. I nod and walk past him, the smell of citrus and money in the air. The bar is nearly empty, the view divine. I order a margarita and sink into my thoughts as the sun bleeds orange into the sea.

Then—

A throat clears.

I turn.

It’s him.

The man from the bar, now less myth and more irritation, stands a few feet away. Up close, he’s even more aggravatingly good-looking. The kind of man the world forgives too easily.

“I didn’t invite anyone here,” he says, his tone laced with arrogance and something dangerously close to amusement.

I arch an eyebrow. Silence is a better weapon than words sometimes.

“This place is private,” he adds. “I rented it exclusively for myself and my guests.”

I glance around. Only two other people—his guards, probably. My mistake. I lift my glass.

“I’ll pay for the inconvenience,” I say evenly. “And for this.”

His lips curl. “Is that your strategy?”

“What?” I ask, my voice edged with warning.

He takes a step closer, studying me like a puzzle he’s already half-solved. “Coming here to seduce me like every other woman does.”

I let out a soft laugh, slow and cutting. “If I wanted to seduce you,” I say, meeting his gaze, “you wouldn’t still be standing.”

The air thickens between us, charged with something far too alive for this tired sunset.

“Coming here to seduce me like any other girl,” he said.

I’d heard that kind of line too many times from my flirtatious, self-important colleagues, so I decided to feed his ego a little. “Yeah, sure. Sunset with a man beside you is a bit romantic,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Silence followed. We both turned toward the horizon, where the sea caught fire beneath the sinking sun. I’ve always been a woman of few words—trained to keep my thoughts to myself. The man beside me seemed cut from the same stone.

He ordered another round: a margarita for me, a Moscow Mule for himself. Interesting choice. We drank quietly, locked in a steady exchange of glances that felt like a second, more dangerous conversation. His face was now only inches from mine, and his blue eyes seemed to steal color from the sky.

“I wanted to do this when I saw you earlier,” he murmured, before his lips brushed against mine.

The kiss was unhurried, deliberate. It felt like the world had slowed down for the sole purpose of watching us. Something within me stirred—an old, hidden pulse I thought I had tamed long ago.

When he drew back, a faint smirk curved his mouth. “I’ll make an exception,” he said softly. “You’re not bad.”

I gave him my practiced, knowing smile—the kind that had served me well in every mission. Teasing was part of my craft; charm was a weapon sharper than steel.

“So, I’m your guest now,” I said, rising to my feet with feigned ease. “I might as well enjoy the benefits.”

I walked toward the wooden railing at the edge of the rooftop, the wind tangling my hair. Behind me, the sunset painted the pool in amber light. I leaned on the railing, needing distance to steady my thoughts.

But he followed, closing the gap between us until his presence became a kind of gravity. I inhaled his scent—mint, musk, and sea air. He smiled, knowing exactly what effect he had.

“I admire your audacity, princess,” he said, his tone somewhere between challenge and praise.

He kissed me again—deeper this time, the kind of kiss that blurs the line between intent and surrender. The world beyond us faded into the hush of waves and the soft hum of night.

When he finally pulled away, the last trace of daylight had vanished. The rooftop was quiet except for the pool lights flickering across the water. I met his gaze—steady, unreadable, and dangerous.

“This is just the beginning, princess,” he whispered, his words carrying both promise and warning.

And somehow, I believed him.

“I’ll make an exception, you’re not bad,” he said quietly.

I wink at him and give him my killer smile, as I have done numerous times during my mission. I am a tease, teasing men to get what I want, but my charm and seduction never waver. He looks at me intently, trying to read me.

“So... I’m your guest now...I must enjoy the benefit of being a guest here,” I joked as I slid from the chair and walked to the wooden grills at the edge of the rooftop, facing him while standing, leaning, and holding the grill. I raise one foot to rest on the bottom grill, the last light of the sunset reflecting my dark hair behind me.

I can see that this is a penthouse with a rooftop bar and pool... he got this one, the suite I wanted... I need space to control these feelings and collect my thoughts. He stands up and comes to me, closing the gap between us and trapping me as he holds the grill.

I could feel his minty breath and cologne. I inhaled his scent, and my action made him smile.

“I admire your audacity, princess,” he said before kissing me again. I can sense the need and urgency in his movements, and I feel like an addict craving more...

We kissed, and our tongues danced in unison; even in this, I am a great student. Our lips are still tangled and moving as he lifts and carries me to a sunbathing chair near the pool. I whimpered as he cupped my breasts inside my shirt and rubbed his thumbs against both of my nipples. The tingling sensations make me hungry, but not because of anything specific.

He slid my boy shorts down to my feet and took them off. When he lifts my shirt and sucks my breasts, I gasp. My erect nipples are like eager soldiers ready to obey an officer’s command.

He reaches for my mound between my thighs, and his fingertips fondle it. I sucked my breath in response to the sensation. The act of having sex was a mystery to me; when I first experienced foreplay, it felt like an exciting adventure that I wanted to explore and delve into the deep pleasure.

He pinches the sensitive bud, and I cry. “Please,” I begged, my voice hoarse.

“Please, what princess?” he said abruptly.

“Please continue,” I said, firmly clasping his shoulder.

He smirks and inserts his fingers into my pussy lips while rubbing my chest.

“Oh god!” I mewl softly.

The surge of pure, unadulterated sensation was a hostile takeover of my carefully constructed mind. Every lesson, every rule of detached engagement, shattered like glass under the force of his touch. It’s like all my senses awaken drastically, making me high, and the sensation brings me to the peak, and when I reach the peak, I convulse.

Shit! Is this only the beginning? I feel like I have tasted heaven already. I reach for his pants, and we both fumble to free his cock. It springs proudly. Damn! He is enormous. How could I survive this?

He leers at me, and I look at him pitifully, a silent begging shouting in my eyes and face, my shirt lifted up to my neck, breasts in full view. He cups my breasts and plunges into a powerful thrust, sensing my position.

Heck! I squeak!

I looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Wait!... give me a minute here,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse.

He comes to a halt, making room for his massive shaft, then...slowly pumps me. The pain fading, I grab his bottom to quicken his pace. I sense his fullness within me, and it makes me long for more.

“You are so tight, princess, and it feels great.”

He kisses me passionately while pounding me as I clasp his waist with my legs. When he reaches my chest and rubs it in circles, his other hand cups my bottom and continues his thrust, I scream like a crazy fan.

“I’m coming,” he rasped.

My sensitivity causes my body to jerk and shudder, and his body becomes rigid. I went back to heaven.

He didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine, their ragged breaths eventually synchronizing. The air, which had been perfectly still, now felt hot and thick with the sharp, coppery scent of sex and sweat. Through my eyelids, I saw the deep indigo sky dotted with the first faint stars.

The distant, muffled pulse of the city below was the only sound for a moment, a stark contrast to the small, hot world we had created on the rooftop. He felt the tremor running through me, a final echo of the climax, and when he finally shifted, pulling out slowly, a soft, slick sound filled the silence.

I didn’t try to cover myself. I was exposed, and for the first time, I felt utterly defenseless, my inner sex goddess not just awakened but completely in control. He looked down at my face, at the faint sheen of sweat on my skin, and the intensity of his stare-race from earlier was gone, replaced by a heavy, knowing silence that felt more intimate than any of the gasps or cries.

He rose, his silhouette blocking the soft, glowing blue light of the pool that reflected on his shoulders. He didn’t offer a hand; he simply scooped me up again, my bare body pressing against his. When he carried me through the sliding glass door, the blast of the suite’s cool air-conditioning felt shocking against my overheated skin. The rough texture of the outdoor chair was instantly forgotten, replaced by the luxurious give of a thick, woven rug under our feet, signaling a move from the wildness of the sunset to the controlled intimacy of his world.

He gently set me down just inside the threshold. My memories of the rooftop were already becoming hazy, almost like a parallel world. My mission—my cover, my control, my years of training—felt like a ridiculous, faded script I’d just tossed away.

He towered over me, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes still bright with a feral satisfaction. “This is just the beginning, princess,” he said, his words rich in meaning and promise.

I swallowed, the only sound the gentle click as he slid the glass door shut, sealing us in. The game had changed.