T
The path widened as they left the beach proper, sand giving way to packed earth and scattered shells. John walked between Chloe and Elena, their shoulders brushing his, the three of them still bare from the hours in the sun. Chloe had pulled on a loose sundress at some point, but Elena was still in her one-piece, the damp fabric clinging to her curves, and John's eyes kept catching on the way the last light traced her thighs as she walked.
He tried to angle his hips forward, to let the slight forward lean of his walk mask what was already happening. It was no use. The evening air was warm and soft, carrying the smell of salt and distant cooking fires, and his body was responding to the simple truth of being surrounded by them — Chloe's hip brushing his, Elena's laugh low and easy, the memory of their bodies bare on the sand still fresh. He felt the familiar thickening, the blood pooling before he could redirect it, and by the time they reached a narrow stretch between two dunes his erection was full and unmistakable.
He shifted his weight, tried to turn slightly toward the sea grass, but there was no hiding it. The angle of his hips did nothing against the jut of him, the way his cock stood out from his body, thick and obvious in the fading light. He felt a hot flush climb his neck and settle in his cheeks.
Chloe glanced back — not at his face at first, but at something off the path, a bird maybe, or a figure in the distance. Her gaze drifted lower, caught on the shadow of him, and stopped. Her lips parted.
He saw the moment she registered what she was seeing. Her eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed, and a slow grin spread across her face. She met his eyes, and his expression was pure plea — help me, please, I can't stop it, I don't know how, don't say anything — and she saw that too.
She laughed. Bright and unguarded, a sound that carried across the dunes and made Elena turn.
"What?" Elena said, glancing between them.
Chloe waved a hand, still grinning. "Nothing. Just — John's face. He's got sand in his eye or something."
Elena looked at him, concern flickering. "You okay?"
John nodded, throat tight. "Fine. Just — blinked at the wrong moment."
Elena smiled, accepting it, and turned back toward the path. But Chloe stayed a beat longer, her eyes dropping deliberately to his erection, then back to his face. Her grin softened into something closer to a promise — I see you, I know, and I'm not done with this yet — before she turned and fell into step beside her mother.
John let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The Torres house was visible now, lights strung across the porch, the sound of Mateo's laughter carrying through the cooling air. He adjusted his walk, let his hips fall into a slight tilt, and followed them up the path, the ache still hard and insistent between his legs, the night still wide open ahead of them.