Rain and Rapture (NSFW)

The rain hammered against the tall windows of the penthouse, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and neon. Elena stood by the glass, her silk robe clinging to her damp skin from the shower she’d just taken. She hadn’t expected him tonight. But there he was—Marcus—leaning against the doorframe, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark eyes locked onto her the moment he stepped inside, hungry and unapologetic. “You’re late,” she whispered, though there was no real scolding in her voice. “I couldn’t stay away,” he replied, his deep voice low and rough. He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just inches from her. The heat radiating from his body made her pulse quicken. Without another word, he slid one hand behind her neck, threading his fingers through her wet hair, and pulled her into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was fierce, demanding—his mouth claiming hers with a raw urgency that made her knees weaken. Elena moaned softly against his lips as his other hand found the tie of her robe and tugged it open. The silk slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She stood bare before him, the cool air kissing her heated skin. Marcus broke the kiss just long enough to drink her in—full breasts rising with each quick breath, the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hips, and the dark triangle of curls between her thighs. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the wide leather couch. He laid her down gently but with clear intent. His mouth trailed hot kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, until he captured one hardened nipple between his lips. Elena arched her back, gasping as he sucked and teased with his tongue, his hand kneading the other breast with just the right pressure—firm, possessive. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. When she finally pushed it off, she ran her palms over the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, down to the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his pants. She could already feel how hard he was, straining against the fabric. Marcus moved lower, kissing his way down her stomach, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. He parted her thighs with strong hands, spreading her open for him. For a moment he just looked, eyes dark with lust, then he leaned in. The first slow lick of his tongue along her slick folds made her cry out. He didn’t rush. He savored her—lapping at her clit with deliberate strokes, then sliding his tongue inside her, tasting every inch. Elena’s hands gripped his hair, hips rocking against his mouth as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. “Marcus… please,” she whimpered. He added two thick fingers, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot inside her while his mouth focused on her swollen clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Her thighs trembled, breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He sucked gently, then harder, driving her closer and closer until— She shattered. Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, her back bowing off the couch as she moaned his name. Marcus didn’t stop until every last tremor had passed, only then rising to kiss her again, letting her taste herself on his lips. Elena reached for his belt, her hands shaking with need. She freed his cock—thick, heavy, and throbbing. She stroked him slowly, feeling him pulse in her grip, a bead of precum slicking her palm. “I need you inside me,” she breathed. Marcus positioned himself between her thighs. The blunt head of his cock nudged against her entrance, teasing for just a second before he pushed in—slow, deep, stretching her perfectly. They both groaned at the sensation. He filled her completely, buried to the hilt. For a moment they stayed still, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. Then he began to move. His thrusts started slow and powerful, each one driving deeper than the last. Elena wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his back as she met every stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with their ragged breaths and soft moans filled the room. “Harder,” she gasped. Marcus obliged, his pace turning relentless. He gripped her hips, angling her so he hit that perfect spot with every thrust. Sweat glistened on their bodies. Elena’s nails raked down his back, leaving red trails as pleasure built again, hotter and sharper this time. “Look at me,” he commanded. Their eyes locked. The intensity in his gaze pushed her over the edge once more. She came hard around him, her inner walls clenching and pulsing, pulling him deeper. Marcus followed right after, burying himself to the root with a guttural groan as he spilled inside her, hot and thick. They stayed locked together for long minutes afterward, hearts pounding, bodies slick and satisfied. Marcus brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her softly this time—tender, almost reverent. “Stay the night,” Elena whispered. He smiled against her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” Outside, the rain continued to fall, but inside, the storm between them had only just begun.