The new lingerie

She stepped into the bedroom wearing nothing but fresh black lace. I told myself I was only checking if her boyfriend would approve, but the second she turned and showed me the straps riding the curve of her hips, that lie collapsed. Heat pushed between my legs, urgent and impossible to ignore. The sheer cups barely contained her nipples; when they tightened, the lace scratched lightly against the tips and my mouth went dry. She reached behind to tug the thong higher, fabric disappearing between her cheeks, and I watched the movement the way a drowning man watches the surface. Her skin flushed rose under my stare, yet she held still, letting me look. I tried to speak, but the words came out rough and short. Everything else was blood and want.