Tea break?

She’s standing by the kitchen counter, golden hair falling over one bare shoulder, wearing nothing but a half-buttoned shirt. The kettle clicks off, but her eyes have already slid lower. One hand traces lazy circles between her thighs, parting the fabric until the shirt hangs open. Her fingers move slow, then faster, slick with need as she bites her lip and lets the smallest sound escape. The tea sits untouched, cooling beside her while she leans back, thighs trembling, lost in the quiet rush of her own pleasure.