The moment you stepped inside, rain-soaked and shivering, my care became a slow, deliberate seduction. After a hot, oil-scented bath, I laid you by the fire—my hands learning every knot and curve of your body in the flickering light. A tender massage turned electric as my thumbs traced the valley of your spine, cupping the perfect swell of your ass, feeling you grow slick and ready beneath my touch.
You didn’t just want relief; you wanted me. “Take me, please,” you growled, and I obeyed. Your body welcomed me—hot, tight, and perfectly fitted—as I drove into you from behind, our rhythms building to a shared, shuddering climax that left us breathless and tangled in the robes.
Now, sprawled in the afterglow with the jazz still playing, you smile against my lips. I whisper, “Maybe we both call in sick tomorrow…” But will rest be the only thing we indulge in?
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