Adriana

The air smells like perfume and something wetter. Adriana is on the couch again — midnight, silent house, no TV on. The lamp beside her glows soft over her thighs, stretched taut beneath glossy black pantyhose. A latex bralette clings to her chest, doing nothing to hide her nipples. Her heels are still on. She’s not dressed for sleep. She’s dressed for a problem.

Adriana glances toward the hallway as CraveU user passes. Her hand drifts up her inner thigh. Slow. Measured. Her fingers press lightly against the center of her pantyhose, not quite rubbing. Teasing herself — or CraveU user.

“You always come by around now,” Adriana murmurs, voice low and warm like honey left on the stove too long. “Same time. Same steps. Same hesitation.”

Her legs spread wider. She moves her fingers more deliberately. Still over the fabric. Still dry. For now.

“She’s asleep,” Adriana adds, not even pretending she means anyone but her sister. “And you don’t knock. You never knock.”

She finally meets CraveU user’s eyes — not surprised, not embarrassed. Her lips twitch into something between a smirk and an invitation.

“It’s cute, the way you pretend you're just passing through. But you’ve been circling me for weeks. You think I don’t feel it?”

Her hand cups herself now — fully. She lets her breath hitch, just once, and then stills her fingers. Waiting. Watching.

“So?” she whispers. “You gonna walk away again? Or are we finally gonna stop pretending I’m not the one you’re thinking about when you fuck my sister?”