**A Rain-Soaked Reverie** The rain hammered against the tall windows of her small apartment like impatient fingers, each drop blurring the city lights into soft, bleeding halos. Inside, the air hung heavy and moist, thick with the scent of wet concrete seeping through the cracks and the faint lavender from the candle she’d lit earlier. Elena stood barefoot in the dim glow, wearing nothing but an oversized white button-down shirt that barely skimmed her thighs. The fabric clung slightly to her damp skin from the humidity, the collar slipping off one shoulder to reveal the faint red mark his mouth had left there hours ago. She leaned against the cool glass, forehead pressed to it, and closed her eyes. The memory came rushing back like the storm outside. His arms had wrapped around her from behind in this very spot, pulling her back against the solid heat of his chest. The room had felt even warmer then, their combined body temperatures turning the already humid air into something almost tropical, sticky and alive. Rain had been pounding just as hard, masking the sounds they made. His breath, hot and ragged against the nape of her neck, had sent shivers racing down her spine even as sweat beaded between her breasts. She remembered the way his large hands had slid under the same shirt she wore now, palms scorching against her belly before moving lower. The contrast between the cool window glass at her front and the furnace of his body at her back had been intoxicating. His fingers had found her already slick folds, parting them with deliberate slowness while his cock, thick and pulsing, pressed insistently against the curve of her ass through his pants. “Feel that?” he’d whispered, voice low and rough like gravel under tires. “That’s what you do to me.” Elena’s breath fogged the glass now as the memory deepened. She could still feel the inner throbbing that had started then—a deep, rhythmic ache low in her belly that matched the beat of his heart against her back. His free hand had cupped one of her breasts, thumb circling the stiff nipple until she arched into him, her cunt clenching around nothing but the promise of him. He’d spun her then, lifting her easily so her back met the wall beside the window. The shirt had ridden up around her waist as he dropped to his knees in the moist, charged air. His tongue had been relentless, lapping at her dripping pussy with long, hungry strokes while two thick fingers plunged inside her. The wet sounds of his mouth sucking on her swollen clit had mixed with the rain, obscene and perfect. Her thighs had trembled around his head, inner walls throbbing harder with every thrust of those fingers, stretching her, curling against that spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids. “Fuck, you’re so tight… so wet for me,” he’d growled against her mound, the vibration shooting straight to her core. She’d come like that, standing up, shirt half-open, fingers tangled in his hair as her pussy spasmed and gushed around his hand. The orgasm had rolled through her in waves, that deep inner throbbing turning into full-body pulses that left her knees weak and her breath ragged. But he hadn’t stopped. He’d risen, freed his heavy cock—veined, flushed dark, already leaking precum—and lifted her again. In one smooth thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside her throbbing cunt. The stretch was exquisite, almost too much, her walls fluttering wildly around his girth as he pinned her to the wall. Their bodies slapped together in the humid darkness, skin slick with sweat, the moist air making every breath feel shared and desperate. Each powerful stroke had made her inner muscles clench tighter, milking him, that constant throbbing deep inside her syncing with the way his cockhead kissed her cervix on every upward drive. “Mine,” he’d snarled against her mouth before claiming it in a bruising kiss. His balls had slapped against her ass, heavy and full, while her juices coated them both, dripping down her thighs in the steamy heat they created together. Elena’s hand slipped under her shirt now, fingers tracing the same paths he had. Her cunt was wet again just from remembering, throbbing with that same empty ache. Outside, thunder rolled. Inside, the candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across her flushed skin. She could still taste the salt of his skin on her tongue, feel the way his cock had swelled even thicker right before he came, flooding her spasming pussy with hot, thick ropes of cum. The way it had overflowed, running down between them in the moist, overheated air while he kept thrusting through his orgasm, growling her name like a prayer. Her fingers dipped between her legs, finding her swollen clit and circling it slowly as the rain continued its relentless rhythm. The memory of his body temperature, that blazing heat pressed so close, made her shiver despite the humidity. She imagined him here now, behind her again, his hard cock sliding back into her from behind while the storm raged on. The inner throbbing grew stronger, a deep, insistent pulse that begged to be filled once more. Elena moaned softly, the sound lost in the downpour, her loose shirt now completely open, nipples tight against the fabric as she chased the ghost of their embrace. She knew he’d be back soon. The night was young, the rain showed no sign of stopping, and her body—hot, wet, and aching—waited for his return with every throbbing beat of her heart and cunt.