Drip
Drip
Drip.
The soft rhythm of water falling onto the floor echoed quietly as she moved with effortless grace.
Each step was slow, deliberate— alluring.
Her breasts, heavy and soaked, glistened under the dim light, the wetness tracing every curve and swell.
Even through the shimmer of moisture, the delicate outline of her pussy was unmistakable—uttering inviting—far more than his imagination had dared to paint.
Steve's eyes were locked on her, utterly captivated, as she glided forward.
Her flawless body remained fully exposed, a living masterpiece of sensuality.
With each gentle step, his breath hitched, heart pounding in his chest, caught in a tide of raw desire.
Finally, she stopped just before him.
"Steve." she said, her voice low and velvety, a teasing smile curling at her lips.
"I take it you've made yourself at home."
He couldn't help but smirk inwardly—ironic, really, because he had. Made himself completely at home.
