The Secret Charm of ziva fey nude

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