It was a hot summer afternoon, and the house was filled with a sultry silence. Sarah, a 25-year-old woman with a lithe figure and long, wavy auburn hair, was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of tight-fitting yoga pants and a cropped tank top. She was trying to decide what to make for lunch when she heard the front door open and close.
“Hey, babe,” called out Dan, Sarah’s boyfriend of two years. He was a tall, athletic man with a chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes. “I’m home.”
Sarah smiled as she heard Dan’s voice. “I’m in the kitchen,” she called back.
Dan walked into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around Sarah’s waist and nuzzled her neck. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his breath warm against her skin.
Sarah giggled and leaned back against Dan’s chest. “Hey, yourself,” she said. “I was just about to make lunch. Want to help?”
Dan nibbled on Sarah’s earlobe, making her shiver with delight. “I have something else in mind,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
