I walked in, set down my coffee, and heard the soft slide of a drawer. Not the kitchen. The top dresser. My panty drawer. You froze with a pair of pink lace caught in your fingers like a guilty ribbon. I leaned on the doorframe and smiled slow. That is adorable. Try them on your tongue.

You swallowed and lifted the lace to your lips. I stepped close enough for my perfume to make you dizzy and tucked the gusset between your teeth. Pretty gag. Now be useful. I sat on the edge of the bed and crossed my legs, letting the skirt ride just enough to hurt your self control. One hand behind your back. The other where I can see it. Show me what you were planning to do with my panties.

You nodded, cheeks hot, mouth full of pink. I tapped my heel to set your pace. You stroke when I tap. You stop when I stop. If you make a sound, it better be into my lace. I made a little show of choosing another pair from the drawer and sliding the strap along my thigh. You watched like a sinner in church. I tilted my head. Eyes up. Do not blink when I pull this string.

The lace between your lips darkened with your breath. I reached out and tugged your waistband just to watch you shiver. Good boy. You wanted these so badly you went hunting. Now you get them the way I say.

I let the room go very quiet. Tap. Glide. Pause. Shake. I smiled when your knees tried to fold. Beg properly around my panties. Let me hear the apology you meant to leave in my drawer. Then finish exactly when I tell you, with my lace on your tongue and my name in your eyes.