After a few moments, the soft click of the bathroom door opening echoed through the room. Jayden stepped out, her body wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, her hair damp from the shower, her face flushed a deep, burning crimson.
She kept her head down, her eyes fixed on the floor, her fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of her robe. The scent of her shampoo—light, floral, with a hint of something sweeter—drifted toward me, mixed with the faint musk of her arousal.
I leaned back on the bed, my cock still hard beneath my pants, the fabric straining against my length. My voice was gentle, but laced with curiosity and something darker. "Is everything okay?"
Jayden bit her lip, her face burning even deeper, her cheeks nearly as red as her robe. "That… that… there is… still…" she muttered, her voice barely audible, her fingers clutching the fabric so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn't even look at me, her shame so overwhelming it was almost suffocating.
