Backstage with Bambi

Sun hit Bambi's fresh copper hair like she was standing under a spotlight. Her bikini straps carved pale lines across tan shoulders, and I kept rolling, pulling every glint of color before the next lens flare could rob me. It played well on camera. It played better off it. The moment the last frame was banked, the sky clapped shut. Clouds shouldered in, bruise-purple and heavy, wiping the heat from the pool deck in seconds. No time to strike, no need. We were already inside each other’s gravity—salt drying on her skin, the faint burn of lotion, bikini bottoms that hadn’t quite finished their job. I walked her straight to the bedroom, left the door open to the patio so thunder traveled the marble floors. She peeled the top off, breasts still pebbled from the sudden drop in temperature, and straddled the edge of the ottoman. I pulled the string at her hip, dragged it slowly until the fabric whispered away and her thighs opened. The storm rumbled overhead. One hand knotted in that new-red hair, the other pressed between her legs, fingers sliding easily because she’d never cooled down from the shoot. I had two knuckles inside her before the rain reached the windows. She didn’t ask for permission—just rocked her hips forward, using the slick I’d already fed her. The sound was obscene against the thunder, wet clicks syncing with the downpour. My thumb circled her clit at the same languid rhythm my fingers used inside her; her spine bowed, and for a heartbeat the only color in the room was that copper hair stretched tight in my fist. We stayed like that until the power flickered and left us in the brief dark—thunder breaking against the roof, her breath shaking, my cock sliding between her thighs but not entering yet. Just friction. Just promise. The moment the lights stuttered back on she twisted, shoved me flat against the sheets, stripped the rest of her bikini away in a single impatient motion, and sank down. Tight, hot, impatient. She rode until the sky finished what it started, both of us streaked with sweat and rainwater that had blown in through the open doors. When she finally collapsed against my chest the clouds were spent, light creeping back weak and gold. A single bead of rain slid from her temple onto my collarbone. I licked it away. Neither of us spoke; neither of us needed to.