Weekend at the Country House
The drive to the countryside was quiet, the road narrowing as I followed Tomas toward his secluded cottage. He was a man of few words but possessed an intensity that had drawn me in for weeks. When we arrived at the small house, surrounded by muddy paths and the smell of damp earth, the air felt thick with an unspoken promise.
After a quick shower, I emerged wearing only a towel. Tomas was waiting in the living room, his gaze heavy and commanding. He handed me a pair of black lace panties. “Put these on,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble. I felt a surge of heat rush through me. The sheer audacity of the request made my heart race.
When I returned to the room, his expression remained stern, yet his eyes burned with a hunger that mirrored my own. He stepped closer, the scent of cedar and rain clinging to him. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced the line of my hip, his touch searing against my skin. The tension that had been building between us for months finally snapped, pulling us together in a desperate, breathless embrace.