fire fulton market: The Epic Journey of Dreams and Courage

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