Exploring the Secret Paths and Life of we want this house ember snow

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in we want this house ember snow. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In we want this house ember snow, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for we want this house ember snow. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in we want this house ember snow; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in we want this house ember snow is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.