The Balcony
Thief

The hotel balcony partition was low enough to climb, and he did it the moment my towel dropped. My back met the warm brick as he lifted me onto the narrow railing, the glittering Paris skyline sprawled far below. One slow, deliberate thrust and I was gasping against his neck, every muscle locked tight as I tried to stay quiet. He gripped the metal so hard it groaned, and when I came undone against his shoulder — legs locked, breath ragged — he followed deep inside me, whispering exactly what he was going to do to me when we got back to the room. We didn't speak after. We just stayed joined in the humid dark, breathing the same night air, until our legs stopped shaking and the filthy promises he'd murmured became a plan.