The fireplace crackled with the sound of dry wood, fire warming the den. Head resting on Jamal’s stomach, her tongue casually tasted her juices and the last drip of cum from the tip of his engorged ebony cock. The storm raged outside.

“That was Marcus. The road's open. He should be here in about an hour.”

She looked up at her husband. Relieved and excited for what lay ahead.

“The weatherman predicted another eight inches overnight,” he continued, tossing another log on the fire. “I guess he was right.”

“So, sixteen inches overall? I love winter.” She replied, smiling.