Painted

Chapter 14

The world outside the hotel room seemed to fall away, leaving Sarocha suspended in the quiet intimacy of Rebecca’s presence. She lay on the bed, her body humming from their earlier frenzy, her breathing uneven as Rebecca leaned over her, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face.

Rebecca was stunning in the muted glow of the room, her skin pale and luminous, her eyes warm with something unspoken. Sarocha couldn’t tear her gaze away, captivated by the quiet strength in Rebecca’s movements, the way her fingers danced across her skin with reverence and intent.

Rebecca kissed her then, slow and deliberate, her lips soft but commanding, and Sarocha surrendered completely. It wasn’t submission—it was trust, a surrender of walls she hadn’t even quite realized were there. Her heart stumbled in her chest, a rush of something deep and aching swelling inside her.

Rebecca’s hands moved with purpose, exploring her body as though committing every curve and line to memory. Sarocha shivered at the sensation, her breath catching as Rebecca’s touch slid lower, igniting sparks beneath her skin. It wasn’t just the physicality of it; it was the care, the way Rebecca seemed to know exactly where to touch, as though reading her like an unspoken language.

Sarocha’s head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut as Rebecca pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then another, trailing lower slowly. Every brush of lips and flick of tongue sent waves of heat coursing through her, but it was the look in Rebecca’s eyes that unraveled her completely.

She opened her eyes again, her gaze locking on Rebecca’s, and time seemed to stop. There was something there—something grounding yet infinite, like staring into the heart of a storm and finding calm. It stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her vulnerable in a way that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Rebecca moved lower still, her kisses growing bolder, and Sarocha arched against her touch, her fingers clutching at the sheets. Every nerve in her body was alive, every inch of her attuned to Rebecca’s ministrations. The way Rebecca’s mouth and hands worked in unison was maddening, almost cruel in its precision, and yet Sarocha found herself wanting more, needing more.

She whispered Rebecca’s name, her voice barely audible, but Rebecca heard it, lifting her gaze to meet Sarocha’s. The look they shared was electric, charged with something far beyond the physical.

Sarocha reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed her fingers along Rebecca’s jaw, marveling at the softness of her skin, the sharpness of her features. She traced the curve of her lips with her thumb, memorizing the shape of them, the way they quirked into a subtle smile before Rebecca kissed her palm.

There was a fragility to the moment, a tenderness that made Sarocha’s chest ache. She didn’t understand it, didn’t know how to name the storm brewing inside her. All she knew was that Rebecca was at its center, a force both wild and gentle, and it left her helpless, shaken, undone.

Rebecca shifted again, her mouth teasing and tasting, and Sarocha gasped, her head falling back against the pillow. Her body was no longer her own; it was Rebecca’s to command, to cherish, to break apart and rebuild in ways Sarocha couldn’t even fathom.

She clung to Rebecca, her nails digging into her back as the tension built, as sensation overwhelmed her, drowning her in a tide she couldn’t fight. And she didn’t want to fight it. She wanted to be lost in Rebecca, to be claimed by her, to give everything she had and take everything Rebecca was offering in return.

When the release came, it was blinding, shattering, leaving her trembling and breathless beneath Rebecca’s touch. But even in the aftermath, with her body spent and her mind adrift, Sarocha couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t stop tracing the shape of Rebecca’s face with her eyes as though committing it to memory.