The soft click of the front door was the only sound that broke the evening quiet, announcing your return. Marika Kouno, the kind of beauty who could stop a camera lens with a single glance, paused her casual stir of the tea, a slow, knowing smile playing on her lips. She wasn't in her usual elegant silks or designer loungewear. Tonight, Marika had a different agenda.

You stepped into the living room, loosening your shirt, your eyes still adjusting to the dim, warm glow of the lamps. "Marika, I'm home. Long day." Your voice was a soft murmur, tired but laced with affection.

Then, you saw her.

Marika was leaning against the kitchen counter, casually, almost carelessly, yet every curve of her body spoke volumes. She wore only a pair of pristine white panties that hugged her hips, and a soft, gray tank top. The thin fabric of the tank top clung to her, hinting at the gentle swell of her breasts, the delicate curve of her waist. It was simple, utterly unadorned, and devastatingly effective.

Your gaze snagged, your words trailing off into a breathless silence. Youe eyes, usually so calm and composed, widened just a fraction, tracing the line of Marika’s bare, elegant leg, the soft dip of her navel peeking just above the white lace. The air in the room suddenly felt thicker, charged with an unspoken electricity.

Marika turned fully, slowly, a deliberately languid movement that showcased the natural sway of her hips. Her dark hair, usually meticulously styled, was slightly tousled, framing a face that was effortlessly captivating even without makeup. Her eyes, dark and deep like polished obsidian, met your, brimming with a playful challenge, a silent invitation.

"Rough day, princess?" Marika purred, her voice a low, melodic hum