The wind howled like a banshee, sending a chill down her spine. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that shook the very foundations of the building. Lightning flashed outside the window, momentarily illuminating the darkness. The storm was growing closer, and she could feel the tension in the air.
The rain started to fall, beating a tattoo on the roof. The wind buffeted the windows, and she could hear the rattling of the glass panes. The whole world seemed to be alive with the storm's fury.
She lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her thoughts swirled like the storm outside, a tempest of emotions and memories. She felt lost, adrift in the sea of her own mind. The darkness of the room seemed to mirror the darkness of her thoughts, and she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into its depths.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm the storm within. She focused on her breathing, taking slow, deep breaths. She imagined herself on a beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore. She felt herself relax, the tension slowly draining from her body.
A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room, and for a moment she saw a shadowed figure in the window. A silhouette of a muscular man, his features obscured by the darkness. A second flash of lightning confirmed what she had seen, and she sat up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest.
A gust of wind blew the curtains aside, and she caught a glimpse of the man's face. He was staring right at her.
"Go away," she said, louder this time. "You're not welcome here. Leave me alone!"
The figure remained motionless, but she thought she saw it smile.
The figure remained motionless, an eerie smile frozen on its face. Or was it a smile? It was hard to tell, with the shadows obscuring its features.
The figure spoke in a soft, raspy voice. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" it asked. "I have some with me. I thought you might like a drink to keep you warm."
The storm outside continued to rage, the thunder rolling through the night. But the figure seemed oblivious to it, as if it were in a world of its own.
She glared at the figure, her expression unimpressed.
"May I come in?" the figure asked.
"You're already inside, Lowell," she replied coldly
The figure approached the table, moving with an eerie grace that seemed out of place in the dimly lit room. It placed a wine glass, two delicate cups, and a single rose on the table, its petals a rich crimson that seemed to glow in the darkness. The figure stood still for a moment, as if admiring its handiwork, before turning to face her.
He hung his sopping wet suit on a nearby coat rack, water dripping from the fabric.
"What a storm!" he said, a smile on his face. "How have you been, my love?"
She folded her hands in her lap and looked away, her gaze fixed on a point far beyond him. She did not want to acknowledge his presence, and her expression was one of cold indifference.
"You still have that icy character , I see," he said, his deep voice echoing the thunder that rumbled in the distance. Despite the coldness of her response, he maintained his gentlemanly bearing, his voice calm and steady.
"You know, your cold attitude only makes me want you more," he said, moving closer. He leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her face away, her lips pressed firmly together. He paused, disappointment clouding his features, but his composure did not break.
He smiled and inhaled the scent of her hair. For a moment, he thought he had broken through her icy facade. But then she spoke, her words cutting through the air like a blade.
"You've just soaked my entire room," she said, her tone sharp and unforgiving.
He smiled, and went to the table to relight the candles that had been blown out by the tempestuous wind.
"You see, these candles can bring light even to the darkest of places," he said, his voice soft and melodic.
"My voice is like the candle, shining through the darkness of your soul," he said, his words lilting and soothing.
The tension in the room was palpable, but he was determined to break through her walls. He believed that if he could just reach her heart, he could make her see that he was a force for good in her life.
A smile flickered across her lips, but she quickly suppressed it, replacing it with a frown. She tried to steel herself against his words, but she could feel herself weakening. She knew that she was fighting a losing battle.
He noticed the smile that she had tried to hide, and he moved closer to her, taking a seat next to her.
"I know that your heart is like a stormy sea, tossing and turning with turmoil," he said, his voice a gentle murmur. "But I will be the lighthouse, guiding you to a safe harbor. My voice will bring calm and light to the darkest corners of your soul."
She felt her defenses crumbling, but she fought to maintain her facade of indifference. She kept her expression stern, refusing to let him see how deeply his words affected her. But inside, she felt like a dam about to burst, her emotions rising to the surface.
He reached out and gently touched her hair, running his fingers through the soft strands. Slowly, he moved closer, and leaned in to kiss her neck. But she stiffened, her body rigid and unmoving. She refused to give in to the desire that was growing within her. She tried to push him away, but he held her close, his touch comforting and reassuring.
Her heart was racing, and her body was trembling with the force of her feelings. But she fought to keep her emotions in check, to maintain her hard exterior. She wanted to give in to the desire that was overwhelming her, but she was afraid of what it would mean to let her guard down. So she held herself back, pretending to be unmoved by his touch.
Just as the moment was reaching a fever pitch, her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She recognized the ringtone - it was her chief, calling from the police station. Her heart sank, knowing that she would have to answer the call. She would have to put her feelings on hold, at least for now.
Before she could react, he reached for the phone and answered it. She heard him speak in a low voice, keeping his tone hushed and secretive. Then, he hung up the phone, a sly smile on his face.
"Nobody is going to interrupt us tonight," he said, his eyes twinkling.
But before she could respond, he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "Don't say a word," he whispered.
As he was about to sit down on the bed, the phone buzzed again. He let out a groan of frustration, and marched back over to the bedside table to answer the call.
But to his surprise, it wasn't the chief this time. The caller ID read simply "Mine."
A puzzled look crossed his face, and he watched the phone ring for a while.
He didn't answer the call. Instead, he turned the phone to face her, revealing the caller ID.
"Really?" he said, his voice shaking with anger. "Is that why all my advances have been pointless? Because you're already taken?"
"It's not what you think," she protested, trying to explain herself. "He's not... I mean, it's not a romantic thing. He's just..."
"Just what?" he interrupted, his patience wearing thin. "What is he to you?
He was getting dressed as he spoke, grabbing his coat and shoes from the floor. "I'm leaving. I don't want to hear any more of your excuses," he said, his voice hard and cold. "I'm done with this."
As he was about to storm out the door, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, clinging to him with all her strength. "Please, don't go," she begged, her voice trembling. "I promise I'll tell you everything. Just don't leave."
Her words were like swords crafted from love, piercing him to the core. But he paused, his anger softening at the sound of her voice.
"I would never cheat on you," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I want to be with you, forever. That will never change."
He stood still for a moment, his body tensed with indecision. Part of him wanted to leave, to put an end to the pain. But another part of him, the part that loved her, wanted to stay.
She trailed her fingers down his chest, letting them linger at his stomach. He turned to face her, his expression softening as she looked at him with pleading eyes. Then, he pulled her close and kissed her, a deep and passionate kiss that left them both breathless.
He lifted her up, his arms wrapped around her as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his gaze never leaving hers. He slowly began to undress her, his touch gentle and loving. As her shirt fell away, he pressed his face against her chest, breathing in the scent of her cleavage.
With deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the side. He removed his trousers, letting them pool at his feet. He did the same for her, his hands trembling slightly as he undressed her.
The thunder and lightning outside seemed to build in intensity, echoing the emotions raging inside the room. The sounds of the storm were a perfect backdrop to the passionate encounter, the two of them lost in their own world, a world of toe curling orgasm.