Behind the Curtain of naja star: Unspoken Desires

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in naja star. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In naja star, 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 naja star. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in naja star; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in naja star is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.