Their kiss was slow, but not soft. It was consuming. A kiss that didn't ask for permission, but took what it wanted. He moaned into her mouth, and she pushed him down onto the moss-covered stone near the pool.
She straddled him, teasing him with her hips, grinding slow, rolling her body in ways that made him throb with need.
"You want to be in control," she whispered against his lips. "But here, you surrender."
He didn't resist.
She slid down onto him with an exhale that sounded like a spell.
The moment their bodies joined, the pool erupted in violet flame - not fire, but liquid light that danced like spirits. Scarlet began to ride him slowly, deeply, her hands on his chest, her back arching like a goddess carved of shadows.
The other wives watched, their eyes wide, hands roaming their own bodies or each other's, the air thick with arousal and reverence.