Chapter 70

~ Franklin ~

She only stared at me, hesitation flickering in her moonlit eyes like silver shadows.

"Come to me, Octavia," I murmured, voice low and rough, extending my hand.

After a heartbeat that felt like forever, her fingers slid into mine—warm, trembling slightly. She let me guide her until she settled across my lap, straddling me, facing me fully. Even in the dim silver glow of the moon, she was breathtaking: lips parted, chest rising and falling, dark hair spilling over bare shoulders like ink poured across moonlight.

I cupped the back of her neck and captured her mouth again.

This kiss was different. I have ever had to feel this feral hungrier and more desperate kind of kiss. Tongues tangled slowly at first, then fiercely, as though we were trying to drink each other dry. My hands roamed her back, tracing the elegant dip of her spine, the soft flare of her hips. Heat radiated between us, thick and electric.

I tugged at her blouse. The fabric whispered down her arms, pooling at her waist, revealing lace and smooth skin that begged to be touched. My breath caught. This was the first time I’d truly seen her like this—almost bare, vulnerable, exquisite.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," I whispered against her collarbone, then lower.

I kissed the swell of her breast, then took her nipple into my mouth through the lace. She arched with a sharp gasp. I sucked gently, then harder, teasing the peak with slow circles of my tongue until the fabric grew damp. When I finally peeled the bra away, her breasts spilled free—full, perfect, nipples already tight and flushed.

"God, Octavia... these are incredible," I breathed, voice wrecked.

She bit her lower lip, eyes half-lidded, that small gesture sending a fresh surge of heat straight to my cock. I palmed one breast while my mouth worshipped the other, rolling the nipple between my teeth just enough to make her whimper.

Her hands fumbled at my belt, fingers shaking with need and nerves. The zipper rasped open. I caught her wrist gently.

"Wait." My voice was gravel. "Do you want this, Octavia? Because once we start...I won’t be able to stop. I won’t want to."

She lifted her gaze—dark, molten, certain.

"I want you," she whispered. "All of you. Right now."

That was all I needed.

I kissed her again—deep, claiming—while my hands stripped away the last barriers. Her panties slid down her thighs; my shirt, pants, and boxers followed until nothing separated us but warm night air and pounding hearts.

We were completely bare under the stars, the ocean’s rhythmic hush the only witness.

I eased her down onto my discarded shirt spread across the sand, parting her thighs with reverent hands. She glistened for me already, slick and inviting. I groaned at the sight.

"Fuck, baby... you are beautiful."

I lowered my head and dragged my tongue slowly along her slit, tasting her for the first time—sweet, salty, addictive. When I circled her clit, she cried out, hips jerking upward. I pinned her gently with one forearm across her lower belly and devoured her.

Licking. Sucking. Flicking. Teasing the swollen bud until her thighs trembled around my ears.

"Franklin—oh god—fuck—" Her voice broke on a sob of pleasure, fingers knotting painfully in my hair.

"You like that, love?" I murmured against her soaked folds. "Tell me."

"Yes—yes—don’t stop—please—"

I slid two fingers inside her, curling them upward while my tongue worked relentless circles. Her inner walls fluttered, hot and tight, gripping me greedily. She was dripping down my chin, and I loved every second of it.

When her hips began to grind shamelessly against my face, I knew she was close. I sucked her clit hard—once, twice—and she shattered.

"Franklin!" Her cry echoed over the waves as her body bowed, thighs clamping my head, pulsing around my fingers in long, shuddering waves.

I didn’t let her come down.

I rose over her, positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock nudging her slick heat. Our eyes locked.

"Tell me again," I rasped.

"I want you inside me," she breathed. "Now."

I pushed in slowly—inch by torturous inch—groaning at how impossibly tight she was, how perfectly she stretched around me. She was hotter, wetter, tighter than anything I’d ever felt. Better than Bella. Better than anything.

Her mouth fell open on a silent moan as I bottomed out, hips flush to hers.

"Franklin..." My name sounded like a prayer on her lips.

"Say it again, baby," I growled, beginning to move—slow, deep rolls that made us both tremble.

"Franklin—fuck—don’t stop—"

I never wanted to.

We found a rhythm—slow at first, savoring every slide, every drag, every catch of breath. Then faster. Harder. The wet sounds of our bodies meeting mingled with the surf.

I pulled her up so she straddled me again, impaling herself fully. Her breasts bounced with each downward stroke; I caught them in my hands, thumbs brushing her nipples.

"Ride me, Octavia," I urged, voice thick. "Take what you want."

She did.

Head thrown back, she rolled her hips in filthy circles, then bounced—hard—moaning my name like a chant. I thrust up to meet her, slamming deep, chasing that perfect angle that made her gasp and shudder.

"Fuck—baby—yes—just like that—god, you feel so good—"

Sweat slicked our skin. Breaths came in ragged pants. The world narrowed to heat, friction, her tight heat gripping me, her nails scoring my shoulders.

"I’m close," I warned, voice strained. "Fuck—I’m gonna come—"

"Me too—me too—Franklin—come with me—"

A few more desperate thrusts and we broke together.

She clenched hard around me as her orgasm ripped through her, crying my name into the night. I buried myself to the hilt and followed—spilling inside her in hot, pulsing waves, groaning her name like a vow.

We collapsed onto the sand, limbs tangled, chests heaving. I stroked her damp hair, kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her trembling mouth.

After long minutes of nothing but the sound of waves and our slowing breaths, I whispered, "That was... incredible."

She lifted her head, eyes soft and shining. "Better than the one-night stand?"

I laughed quietly. "We were drunk then. Sloppy. This..." I brushed my thumb along her jaw. "This was everything. Sober. Real. You and me."

She smiled—small, shy, radiant.

"So sex on the beach," she murmured. "Literally."

"Better than the cocktail," I teased.

We laughed softly, then fell quiet again. I tilted her chin up.

"Now that we’ve consummated this marriage...do you still want to stay married to me? For real?"

Her expression sobered. She sat up slowly; I followed.

"I love you, Franklin," she said quietly. "I do. But..."

"But?"

"I don’t want a marriage built on lies and contracts. I want something real—no rules, no boundaries, no expiration date. If we keep pretending this started as a deal, it’ll always feel...fake."

She was right. The truth hit like cold water.

"Then let’s make it real," I said.

Her eyes widened. "How?"

"I tell everyone. The board, the press, everyone. I admit the marriage was arranged. Fake at the start."

"Franklin..." She searched my face. "They’ll strip you of the executive chair. Everything you’ve worked for."

"Then let them." I shrugged, surprised at how calm I felt. "I’ve already drafted my resignation letter in case it happens. If it means I get to keep you—really keep you—I don’t care about the title."

"You’d give up everything?" Her voice cracked.

"I already have nothing to lose." I cradled her face. "Not when I finally have you. You’re more important than power, Octavia. You always should have been. I just wish I’d seen it sooner."

Tears shimmered in her eyes. "We have each other now. That’s what matters."

I kissed her—slow, tender, full of promise.

"I love you," I said against her lips. "So fucking much. I’m sorry—for all of it. For the pain. For the games."

"I forgive you," she whispered. "Because I love you too."

Relief crashed through me like a wave. I kissed her again, deeper.

"I swear, Octavia—right here, under this moon—I will spend every day making you happy. I’ll never hurt you again. Never."

"I’m holding you to that," she said, a soft smile curving her lips.

"Always know I love you," I murmured.

She nodded.

"And Clinton...?" I asked, trying not to sound as possessive as I felt.

"We were never really together. Not like that."

I exhaled. "Good. Because I’m jealous as hell."

She laughed quietly. "You don’t need to be. I chose you."

I stood, offering my hand. "Come on. Let’s get back to the suite before someone spots two naked idiots on the beach and we go viral."

She took my hand, laughing as we dressed hurriedly in the dark.

Hand in hand, we walked back toward the resort, sand clinging to our skin, hearts full.

For the first time, everything felt right.

Our love had survived the lies.

Now it was time to let it live.