Last Day on the Island

The chapter opened in memory.

Years ago, the rain had been falling in a steady curtain. Rachel walked the long path around the lake with a lantern, checking the perimeter after reports of strange sounds. The light swung across the black water and the wet grass. Then she heard them — soft, urgent, unmistakable.

She stopped.

In the partial shelter of the trees near the water’s edge, she saw two figures. Emma on her back in the wet grass, skirt pushed up around her waist. Nathalie between her legs, moving with slow, deep intensity. Emma’s hands were buried in Nathalie’s hair, her head tipped back, mouth open in a silent cry. The lantern light caught the gleam of rain on bare thighs and the rhythmic motion of their bodies joining.

Rachel stood frozen for several long seconds.

Then she lowered the lantern, turned, and walked away without a word. She never reported what she had seen. She never spoke of it to either of them. But she never forgot.

Present – Final Day

The snow had stopped. The sky was clear and freezing. Jennifer had declared the last day a rest day — no drills, no runs, only final preparations and sleep.

Rachel found Emma alone in the early afternoon while she was packing.

She closed the cottage door behind her and spoke without preamble.

“I’ve arranged something for tonight. Nathalie will come to you after dark. The path will be clear. No one will check on either of you.”

Emma looked up, startled.

Rachel’s expression was complicated — disapproval still present, but tempered by something older and quieter.

“I don’t agree with what the two of you have been doing all these years,” she said. “I never have. But you’re leaving tomorrow. And I won’t send you to the mainland without letting you have this one last time. Consider it a farewell. Nothing more.”

She left before Emma could answer.

That Night

Nathalie arrived just after full dark. She stepped inside the cottage, closed the door, and for a moment simply looked at Emma. No words were needed. The years of secrecy, the lake, the careful distance they had maintained in public — all of it was present in the way they stared at each other.

Nathalie crossed the room first.

She cupped Emma’s face and kissed her hard. Emma kissed her back with equal hunger, hands already pushing under Nathalie’s jacket, needing the familiar heat of her body one final time. They undressed each other with urgent, practised movements. Nathalie’s lean, strong body was revealed piece by piece — dark smooth skin, small firm breasts with tight nipples, flat stomach, long powerful legs. Emma’s softer, fuller body pressed against her — heavy pale breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach, the familiar shape Nathalie had mapped in secret for years.

They didn’t rush to the bed at first.

Nathalie pushed Emma against the wall, dropped to her knees, and pulled her underwear aside. She licked into her with focused intensity, tongue sliding through already slick folds, sucking gently on her clit while two fingers pushed inside. Emma’s head fell back against the stone, one hand tangled in Nathalie’s wet hair, trying and failing to stay quiet. When she came the first time, her thighs trembled hard around Nathalie’s head.

Nathalie stood and kissed her deeply so Emma could taste herself. Then she guided her to the narrow bed.

Nathalie lay back and pulled Emma down on top of her. Their breasts pressed together — soft and heavy against firm and small. Emma kissed her way down Nathalie’s body, lingering on her tight nipples, the tight stomach, before settling between her long legs. She licked upward with slow, deliberate attention, two fingers sliding inside while her tongue worked. Nathalie’s back arched, one hand gripping the headboard, the other pressing Emma’s mouth harder against her. She came with a low, broken sound, thighs tightening around Emma’s head.

They kept going.

Emma moved up and sank down onto Nathalie’s thigh at first, grinding her wet pussy against the hard muscle, before Nathalie reached between them and guided Emma’s hand lower. They touched each other at the same time — fingers sliding deep, mouths open against necks and breasts. The wet sounds of their hands moving filled the small cottage. When Emma came again, she bit down on Nathalie’s shoulder to muffle the cry. Nathalie followed soon after, hips lifting off the bed.

Eventually they slowed.

Nathalie rolled Emma onto her back and settled between her legs one last time, fucking her with deep, steady fingers while sucking hard on one full breast. Emma’s hands gripped her back hard enough to leave marks. The final orgasm left her shaking and wet-eyed.

Afterward they lay tangled together under the thin blanket, skin still damp, breathing slowly returning to normal. Nathalie traced a finger along Emma’s collarbone in the dark.

“Come back,” she said quietly.

Emma didn’t answer with words. She only pulled Nathalie closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her skin, knowing that in a few hours she would leave the island — and that this night, arranged in secret by the same woman who had once caught them, might be the last time they ever touched.

Outside, the snow lay silent and deep under the clear, freezing sky.

At first light, Margot would be waiting.