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SHARKS EVERYWHERE

T he Next Day

I have my period, and I’m feeling slightly uncomfortable, but pain relief is finally starting to kick in. Timmy’s being super attentive, cracking less silly jokes, and seems genuinely concerned about making sure I feel comfortable.

When I told him about my endometriosis diagnosis, he was tender and caring, and seems to have taken it to heart, making sure I’m equipped with drinks and snacks at all times including a warm and comforting aromatic broth, and rubbing my lower back to soothe my pain. He even suggests I pick a show that will make me feel better.

I’m assuming he’s not going to want to do anything intimate—so many guys don’t when it’s that time of the month—so I’m surprised when he gets a mischievous gleam in his eye and turns toward me. “So… you wanna fuck or what?”

“Hell yes, I wanna fuck you,” I grin back, my pussy clenching in anticipation.

He goes to the bathroom and returns with soft lilac in hand, the plush towel Timmy spreads across the bed looking absurdly domestic, given the tension that hums between us, thick as the humid night air beyond the windows .

I watch him, mesmerized by the deliberate way he smooths it out, as if he’s giving the act reverence, preparing for something sacred. The moonlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapping us both in a soft, silver glow. The moment is intimate, electric—our very own universe where only we exist.

When Timmy finally turns to me, the mischief in his eyes sends my pulse skittering. It’s the look of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing to me—but with no trace of regret. That grin, cocky yet charming, pulls me toward him like gravity.

“You sure about this, Red?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the way a wave sounds just before it crashes onto shore.

“Yes,” I breathe, my heart pounding. “I’ve never been more certain.”

That’s all the permission he needs. In one fluid motion, Timmy closes the space between us, his hands framing my face as his lips crash into mine. The kiss is deep, insistent, and scorching—an explosion that leaves me dizzy and breathless. His body presses into mine, firm and hot, as if he’s trying to fuse us together. His hands move over me with purpose, like he’s mapping every curve, every dip, committing me to memory all over again.

I run my fingers down his abs, feeling the way they flex beneath my touch. Each ridge, every muscle, is a testament to how effortlessly powerful he is. My hands tremble as they find the drawstring of his pants, loosening the knot with eager fingers.

When his cock springs free, thick, hard, and perfect, my breath catches. The sight of him—completely uninhibited, every inch of him demanding my attention—makes heat pool low in my belly.

Timmy groans as I reach for him, his accent thick as molasses. “Fuck, Margaux. I can’t wait to be inside you again.”

“Me too,” I whisper, my cheeks warming under his intense gaze.

He slides a hand beneath the strap of my bikini top, dragging it slowly over my shoulder. The friction of fabric against skin sends shivers racing down my spine. His lips trail down my neck, teasing the sensitive curve where my shoulder meets my throat, and I tilt my head to give him better access. His breath is hot, his tongue wet as he tastes me, his stubble grazing my skin just enough to leave me breathless.

“You’ve got the most perfect tits,” Timmy murmurs as his hands cup my breasts. His fingers play with the metal bars piercing my nipples, a touch both teasing and reverent. I arch toward him, biting my lip to contain the moan that rises in my throat.

“Careful,” I gasp. “They’re still a bit tender.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my chest. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, but the wicked grin that follows says otherwise.

Even the slightest brush of his fingers over the piercings makes me moan, the sensation electric and deeply satisfying. Pleasure spirals from my breasts to the molten heat between my legs, leaving me aching for more.

“What do you want, Red?” Timmy’s voice is low and dangerous, like the calm before a storm. His eyes are dark with desire, and his grin holds the promise of something wild.

“I want you,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I want you inside me, Timmy. Now.”

There’s no hesitation in his movements. I slide off my bikini bottoms, and with a quick, practiced motion, I pull my tampon free, setting it aside. For a moment, a flicker of embarrassment tightens my chest, but it vanishes the second Timmy’s eyes meet mine. His expression doesn’t change—if anything, the desire in his gaze deepens.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “All I want is you.”

Relief washes over me, and the intimacy of the moment feels even more potent. With a groan, Timmy lowers me onto the towel and spreads my thighs wide, positioning himself between them.

He runs his cock along my lips, teasing me with slow, deliberate strokes. The slickness of my arousal mixed with my blood adds a delicious friction that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he growls, his voice a low purr in my ear.

“Yes,” I gasp, my hips lifting to meet him, desperate for more .

Timmy positions himself at my entrance, his body tense with restraint. “Fuck, Margaux,” he groans. “I love this pussy.”

With one deep, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside me, stretching me in the most exquisite way. I cry out at the overwhelming sensation, my nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move.

At first, his thrusts are slow, deliberate—teasing me, coaxing me closer to the edge. But soon, the rhythm shifts, and he drives into me harder, faster, each movement staking his claim. The bed creaks beneath us, rocking against the wall with the force of our passion.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he demands, his voice a rough growl in my ear.

“I love it,” I gasp, unable to form any other words as pleasure floods my senses. “I love it so fucking much.”

Timmy grips my hips, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise, but I don’t care. All I can think about is the way he feels inside me—the perfect stretch, the intoxicating rhythm of his thrusts. I tilt my hips, meeting him stroke for stroke, lost in the primal rhythm of our bodies moving together.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice thick with need.

I arch my back, moaning as his cock drags along every sensitive nerve inside me. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost too much to bear. My nails rake down his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

“Timmy,” I cry out, the intensity of my climax rushing toward me like a tidal wave.

He grunts, his rhythm becoming erratic as he chases his own release. “I’m gonna come, Red,” he rasps, his breath hot against my neck.

“Do it,” I gasp. “Come inside me.”

With a shuddering groan, Timmy drives into me one last time, his body tensing as he spills deep inside me. The feeling triggers my own orgasm, and I scream his name as pleasure crashes over me in powerful waves.

Timmy collapses on top of me, his chest heaving as we both catch our breath. I wrap my arms around him, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

“That was incredible,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from moaning.

Timmy rolls onto his side, pulling me close. His fingers trail lazily through my hair, his touch gentle and soothing. “You’re fucking amazing, Margaux,” he murmurs, his grin crooked and satisfied.

We lie there for a while, tangled together, the moonlight casting soft shadows across our skin. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, but I’ve never felt more content.

“We should go again,” Timmy teases, his voice laced with playful mischief.

I laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Maybe after we clean up.”

He groans in mock annoyance but helps me to my feet. Together, we stumble toward the bathroom, hand in hand, our bodies still humming with the afterglow of passion.

Under the hot spray of the shower, I lean into him, the water washing away the evidence of our lovemaking. “I really enjoy our time together,” I murmur, my voice muffled against his chest.

Timmy tilts my chin up, his gaze soft and sincere. “I care about you, Margaux,” he says. “I really feel like we’re meant for each other.”

His words sink deep, filling me with warmth. And in this moment, under the cascading water, I believe him.

As we step out of the shower, Timmy picks up the towel from the bed, scrunching it up and tossing it into the laundry basket. He pauses for a moment, as if considering something.

“You know,” he says, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve never really been into… that.”

“Into what?” I ask, curious.

“Having sex when someone’s on their period.” His expression softens. “But with you, it’s different. I don’t mind at all. I just want to be close to you. I just want to be inside you.”

His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, making me feel cherished in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s as if every experience with me is new for him, something profound and meaningful.

Then, with a grin that’s equal parts playful and wicked, he murmurs, “I’ll put a baby in you, by the way.” It comes from nowhere, totally unexpected. The intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and to my surprise, the idea stirs something deep within me—something unexpected but undeniably real. I don’t know if he’s being serious, or just playful, but either way, he’s just activated a part of me I thought was long buried.

This man really is full of surprises.