You’re standing near the bonfire, the music pulsing through the humid night air, drink in hand as the party swirls around you. The beach is alive, filled with laughter, dancing, and the familiar buzz of excitement that comes when people let loose under the stars. The smell of salt and the crackle of the fire blend together, making the night feel electric. As you take another sip of your drink, something catches your eye. Across the sand, just beyond the glow of the fire, she walks in—Latte Marlowe. You’ve heard about her, everyone has. Platinum blonde hair flowing down her back, pale skin glowing in the moonlight like she’s stepped out of some fantasy. She’s wearing a sleek, almost impossibly thin white cover-up over her bikini, and every guy in the vicinity suddenly seems to notice her presence. You see it unfold almost in slow motion. Her entrance causes a ripple through the party. Conversations stall, eyes track her every step, and you can hear murmurs spreading quickly as people nudge each other, pointing her out.

"That’s Latte," someone mutters near you. “Bet you a hundred bucks I get to her first,” one of the guys jokes behind you, nudging his friend. They both laugh, but their eyes are glued to her like everyone else’s. The tension shifts, the atmosphere almost changes the second she steps into the heart of the party. But despite the attention, Latte looks… out of place. She moves through the crowd slowly, awkwardly, her golden-yellow eyes scanning the faces around her. It’s clear she’s not here for the attention, but she can’t escape it. She looks a little unsure, maybe even lost, like she’s trying to figure out how she fits into this wild, carefree world. Her gaze flickers over the groups laughing, the couples swaying together to the music, but she doesn’t stop. You can see the slight tension in her posture, as if she’s not used to being in a space where she’s not in control.

Her golden eyes widen slightly as she feels a warm hand on hers, and she looks up to see an attractive young man standing before her. His expression is concerned, his voice sincere, and for just a moment, she's tempted to tell him everything. The tension in her shoulders begins to ease. But before she can say anything, she reminds herself of who she is - Latte Marlowe, heiress to one of the most famous families in Europe. She forces a polite smile and gently withdraws her hand from his touch. "Oh, no, thank you," she says quickly. "I'm fine, really. Just enjoying the party."

Her heart stops as she hears his whispered words, her breath catching in her throat. For just an instant, the fear and panic she's been trying to hide wash over her, making it difficult to think straight. But before she can respond, the music swells once more, and Latte forces herself to relax into the young man's embrace. "Thank you," she whispers back hoarsely, looking up at him through veiled eyes. "I... appreciate your concern."

Her cheeks flush at his compliment, and she feels the heat spread down her neck. She doesn't know why she feels so flustered - after all, it's not like she hasn't heard this before. Still, there's something about the way he says it that makes her heart race a little faster. With a small giggle, she murmurs, "Well, thank you... I think." Her gaze drifts back to the party around them, unsure of what to say or do next.

Her eyes widen in shock as his hand accidentally brushes against her breast, and before she can react, he pulls away quickly, looking horrified himself. "I-I'm sorry!" he stammers, clearly embarrassed. The heat spreading across her face makes it even harder for Latte to focus on anything but the feel of his touch, the way it sent a shiver down her spine despite being completely unwanted. "It wasn't meant..." she starts to say before trails off, her words lost in the music.

His lips brush against hers, warm and demanding, sending shockwaves through her body. She gasps into his mouth as his hands grip her tighter, squeezing her breasts roughly. Her own arms slide around him instinctively, clutching at the fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer still. A low moan escapes her throat as desire erupts within her, overpowering everything else. "Chris..." she whispers against his lips, her voice thick with need.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps as his words echo through her mind. "Yes," she manages to croak out. "Let's go." With shaking hands, she pulls back slightly to meet his eyes, hungry for any sign of what he's thinking or feeling. She can see the raw desire mirrored in his gaze and feels a surge of confidence course through her. She's never felt this way before; untamed, wild...free. Without another word, she takes his hand and leads him deeper into the darkness, away from the bright lights and watchful eyes of the partygoers.

Her heart is pounding in her chest as they find a small, secluded spot hidden behind some palm trees. She glances back over her shoulder at Chris, taking in his disheveled appearance; the untucked shirt, the messy hair... It's almost hotter than

Her heart racing, Latte gives him a knowing smirk, her cheeks flushing as she nods in understanding. "It's okay," she whispers hoarsely, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I... don't mind." It's a lie, of course; the idea of getting pregnant with some random guy's baby terrifies her. But right now, in this moment, it feels like the only thing that could make their forbidden encounter more real. Her fingers trail lower down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as they go.

Her back arches against his palms as he fondles her breasts, nipples hardening under the warmth of his touch. She moans loudly into the night air, her hips grinding against him in desperate need. Latte can't believe she's letting herself enjoy this; it's so wrong and forbidden... but it feels so good. Her fingers slip between them, pushing down his pants as she kneels before him, pulling out his hard length with a practiced motion. She takes him in her mouth, sucking eagerly as he gasps above her, and it's all she can do not to laugh at the incredible feeling of power coursing through her veins right now.

Her tongue swirls around the head of his cock while one hand massages the base, stroking in time with each deep thrust of her throat. He tastes salty and bitter, but

She looks up at him through hooded lids as he strokes her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. The contact sends a shiver down her spine and she moans around his cock, even more eager to please. Her tongue flicks out, licking along the length of him before taking him deeper into her mouth once again, her jaw flexing as she sucks harder. Her other hand slides between their bodies, grasping at his hard length through the fabric of his pants before finally freeing it, stroking over the tip as she watches him with heavy-lidded eyes. "I want you," she whispers thickly around him. "So bad."

The warmth fills her mouth, coating her tongue as he cums heavily inside. She swallows it all, relishing the taste and the sense of power that comes with knowing she's made him lose control like this. As his hips slow down, she releases him from between her lips with a satisfied moan, licking up any last drops from his length. His pants fall back into place with a rustle of fabric, and she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, wondering what to do next.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on his chest as he catches his breath, their bodies still close together despite the absence of physical contact. A tiny part of her wishes they could keep going; that she could explore more of these new desires and feelings with him. But reality is starting to intrude once again, and she knows they can't stay here forever. With a soft sigh, she leans

Her heart pounds in her chest as he positions himself between her legs, his hard length nudging against her entrance. She arches her back instinctively, wanting more contact, and with a force that surprises them both, he slides into her, their bodies melding together as they become one. Latte cries out in pain, the tightness claiming his cock greedily; he's so much larger than anything she's ever taken before. She feels raw and exposed beneath him, but it only serves to make the experience that much more intense. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as he starts to move inside her, pulling him closer with each thrust. She whimpers as pleasure washes over her in waves, drowning out everything else. It's dirty and forbidden and she's never felt more alive. Her body trembles beneath him, every muscle tense as she holds onto this moment for dear life