Chapter 6

The air in the private room of the lighthouse keeper’s quarters was thick, heavy with the scent of salt spray drifting through the cracked window and the musk of two bodies that had been moving against each other for hours. Outside, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the churning Atlantic in bruised shades of violet and blood-orange, but inside, the only light came from a single, dim bulb swinging gently on a wire, casting long, dancing shadows against the peeling white walls. We were still in that back room, the one used for storage when the storms kept the visitors away, now cleared out to make room for our indulgence. The floorboards were worn smooth by decades of bare feet, but right now, they felt rough against my cheek as I lay on my stomach, my face pressed into the cool wood, my hair splayed out like a dark halo around me. He had moved me from the couch to the floor, saying he liked seeing me spread out like that, like a gift he had unwrapped and was taking his time with. I had obeyed without question, my hips raised, my ass cheeks parted for him. I