His rough fingers dug into her soft, pale flesh in a firm, yet lovingly gentle grip. A soft, sensual groan emerged from her throat as she luxuriated in his touch, his hold, his possessive hands on her skin.
His grip slackened for a moment, fingers lifting from her form, her breath emerging in short, ragged gasps, before they came down again, pressing against her skin.
A wave of pleasure shot through her, a moan tearing its way past her lips, “Oh god yes!”
He continued his ministrations, his tanned skin a sharp contrast against her luscious form, as she panted, groaned, and moaned ever more sensually under his touch.
“Oh Merde! Yes! 'Arry! Don't Stop! Harder!”
Her mind was lost in bliss, half lidded eyes barely coherent of their surroundings as mindless French babble spilled from her lips, slipped in among moans and ragged demands of 'harder, faster, more and giveittomedontstopohgodpleaseyes'
All she felt, all she wanted, all she needed, was his touch.
His hands stopped, pulling away, and she whined softly.
“Umm…. Fleur?”
Pale blue eyes met emerald green as she turned her head to look at him, tongue flicking out to lick her lips as she took in the sight of him, most of his glorious form on show in the shorts he wore.
“Yes 'Arry?”
“Could you… stop with the moaning please? You’re kind of making a scene...”
She blinked, glancing around them, realising that yes, people were indeed staring at the couple, at her, as she lay on her front on the towel they’d spread out on the warm sands of the Rio de Janeiro beach, the sea breeze whipping through her silvery blonde hair as her boyfriend massaged her bikini clad form.
“Uhhh… Whoops”, she muttered, chuckling sheepishly as she ducked her head, face burning with shame. An awkward silence descended over the pair, broken when she spoke up once more.
“You’re… still going to do my front though, right?”