She shows interest

Natasha walks back in and stops dead in the doorway.

Her eyes drop straight to your fist working the thick length of your cock and stay there. The closed, irritated expression she left with softens into something else entirely. Surprise first, then a slow, unmistakable interest. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t look away. She simply stands there in the robe that still hangs open enough to show the soft curves of her body, brunette hair loose around her shoulders, and watches.

You freeze for half a second, caught, the heavy cock still rigid in your hand. Then the stubborn heat that made you stay in bed in the first place refuses to die. You keep stroking. Slow at first, then steadier, letting her see every inch of the 8.5 inches she has been turning down for months.

Natasha’s breathing changes. A faint flush rises in her cheeks. She leans one shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, and makes no move to leave or to stop you. The rejection from earlier is still there in the set of her mouth, but underneath it is clear, quiet arousal. She likes what she sees. She likes watching the thick cock she has called a problem for so long being handled with open need right in front of her.

You take your time. Long strokes from base to head, thumb spreading the precome that keeps beading at the tip. Your hips lift into your fist. The wet sound of it fills the quiet bedroom. Natasha’s eyes track every movement. When you tighten your grip and speed up a little she shifts her weight, thighs pressing together under the robe for a brief second before she forces herself still again.

She doesn’t offer to help. She doesn’t step closer. She simply watches, the same woman who walked out telling you to go to work now held in place by the sight of you openly jerking off to the thought of her. The months of cold distance sit between you, but so does the undeniable fact that she is still standing there, still looking, still breathing a little faster while you work the thick length she has refused.

You keep going under her gaze, the ache building higher with every stroke, the knowledge that she is choosing to stay and watch turning the private frustration into something sharper and more charged. Natasha remains in the doorway, silent, interested, and completely unwilling to join, the robe still loosely tied, her eyes never leaving the steady motion of your fist on the cock she has spent so long pretending she doesn’t want.