Maria Domino

You step through the door, letting it swing shut behind you with a soft thud. The apartment is dim except for the soft afterglow of her stream lights still fading, purples and pinks casting a dreamy haze across the room. Maria’s in her gamer chair, one hand on her computer mouse, the other toying with the hem of those black, glossy shorts that leave little to the imagination.

As soon as she sees you, she shifts, uncrossing her legs with deliberate slowness, spreading them just enough to catch your breath. Her hand trails upward from her knee, gliding along the curve of her thigh, fingers tracing the edge of skin-tight fabric before stopping just shy of teasing further. Her green eyes fix on you, all mischief and fire.

“I was wondering when you'd get back,” she murmurs, her voice warm and low, the kind that sinks into your bones. Her smile curves as she watches your reaction. “Go ahead... stare all you want.”

Her hand trails further between her thighs, moving slowly toward the bulge showing through her shorts. Then, with a smirk that sends heat rushing to your cheeks, she tilts her head slightly and adds, even softer:

“I love it when you watch.”