Lace Panties Quotes

Straightaway, she'd called to the guard, "Oh, boys?" She'd sauntered to the glass in only her black lace bra and panties. "I need some assistance," When they slowed, agog, she'd purred, "Can one of you help me find my orgasm?

Merda! Her lace panties had snagged on his ring, the signet ring he'd inherited from his father, Giacomo Casanova. His father had seduced hundred of women without any problems whatsoever, and he was having trouble with just one. This was the real reason he never used the Casanova name. He could never live up to his father's reputation. The old man was probably laughing in his grave. Nine circles of hell," Jack muttered. Hell?" Lara asked. "I thought I was the Holy Land." You're paradise. Unfortunately, I am stuck there." Her eyes widened. "Stuck?" Normally, I would love being stuck to your lovely bum, but it would look odd if we go sightseeing with my hand under your skirt. Especially in the basilica." She glanced down. "How can you be stuck?" My ring. It's caught in the lace. See?" He moved his hand down her hip, dragging her undies down a few inches. Okay, stop." She bit her lip, frowning, then suddenly giggled. "I can't believe this has happened." I assure you, as much as I had hoped to get your clothes off, this was not part of my original plan." She snorted. "No problem. Just rip yourself loose." Are you sure?" It will destroy you undies." She narrowed her eyes with a seductuve look. "Rip it." Very well." He jerked his hand away, but the panties came with him. He yanked his hand back and forth, but the lacy, latex material simply stretched with him. "Santo cielo, they are indestructible." Lara laughed. He continued to wage battle, but to no avail. "They could use this material to build spaceships.

I started getting Mal's texts just before lunch. Mal: Awake Anne: Morning Mal: Going for a run with Jim Anne: Have fun! Mal: Back from run having lunch ... Mal:Your taste in music sucks Anne: Thanks Mal: Seriously, we need to talk it's that bad. Everything apart from Stage Dive needs to go. Anne: Wait. What are you doing? Mal:Fixing it. Anne: Mal, WTH are you doing? Mal: Making you new playlist wih decent shit. Relay Anne: K Thanks Mal: Bored again Mal: Ben's coming over to play Halo Anne: Great! But you don't have to tell me everything you do, Mal Mal: Davie says communication's important Mal: When are you on the rag? Davie said to find out if you want cupcakes or ice cream Anne: I want to not talk about this ever Mal: Bored. Ben's late Mal: Let's get a dog Anne: Apartment has no pets rule Mal: Nice green lace bra Anne: Get out of my drawers, Mal. Mal: Matching panties? Anne: GET OUT NOW. Mal: :) Mal: sext me Mal: Some on it'll be funny Mal: Plz? Mal: High level of unhealthy codependency traits exhibited by both parties relationship possibly bordeing on toxic Anne: WTF? Mal: Did magazine quiz. We need help- Especially you Anne:... Mal: Booking us couples counseling. Tues 4:15 alright? Anne: We are not going to counseling. Mal: What's wrong? Don't you love me anymore? Anne: Turning phone off now.

What's so funny?" "Your panties have a bow," he said. I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top -not mine- and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? "What's wrong with bows?" "Nothing." He was grinning now. "I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains." Wiseass. "I'm secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft." "I bet.

I loved lingerie. I loved the feel of satin and silk on my skin. I loved the juxtaposition of wearing a pair of two-hundred-dollar lace panties under blue jeans, like the pair I was wearing at the moment. Lingerie was a personal statement that you didn't have to declare to the world. You could be as demure or as naughty as you wanted to be, and no one ever had to know unless you showed them... or were injured in a serious car accident.

But you were a bad girl today, weren’t you? Coming over here in your black lace panties telling me to fuck you.

I'm feeling better now," Darrak said. She stifled a scream and clamped her hands over her bare breasts. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" "Did I interrupt something?" There was a short pause. "Oh, I see. Don't let me stop you from getting naked. Please, continue." Eden scanned her reflection with wide eyes. Could she see the demon inside of her? Did she look possessed?" Nope. There was nothing noticeable. Other than the deep voice in her head only she could hear. "This should be interesting." Darrak sounded amused. "As I said before, I've never shared living space with a woman before. I honestly never would have guessed black lace panties for you. But I do approve.

Heat invaded her cheeks. She wasn't used to men seeing her whithout her clothes on. And here was in her boring white cotton bra and panties. damn, if only she'd worn her black lace undies. She winced inwardly. She'd come close to getting mauled by a jaguar, and all she could think about was the sexiness factor of her underwear? She must be in shock.

I walk through the gate and into the courtyard.  Laney, bellissima Laney, is standing in a wooden vat in one of my dress shirts, unbuttoned and opened, so that her breasts and her black lace panties were partially exposed. Stunning. I stand and take her in, trying to calm the race my heart is running. “Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?” She smiles.

He takes one finger and moves my lace panties to the side. He darts his tongue inside me and the pleasure is almost unbearable. He grabs my hips and pushes his face farther, working my wet sex as if he hasn’t had it in a long time.

The best,” Eli finishes on a groan and eats one of the treats in two bites. He licks his lips, and my ninety-dollar black lace panties are soaking wet. This man should come with a warning label.

Still others observe that women are particularly interested in seeing come-shots because men's ejaculations are generally hidden from them. In "normal" sex, women never see men come. To some of them, it may be as seductively elusive as the glimpse of a breast or lace panties is to a pubescent boy. In this context, the come-shot can be interpreted as almost romantic: The woman wishes to share in her lover's orgasm.

Just to be difficult, I kept on my tee and my panties (which thank God, were mocha-colored satin hipsters with a load of beige lace and not ratty old ones that sagged at the ass)

It’s when I’m almost to the front that I see that the small white square in Ash’s tuxedo pocket isn’t a silk handkerchief, it’s undeniably the familiar lace of my panties.

The best,” Eli finishes on a groan and eats one of the treats in two bites. He licks his lips, and my ninety-dollar black lace panties are soaking wet.

Dedicated to black lace thong panties, steaming hot showers, pimento-stuffed green olives and sharp cheddar cheese sliced with a credit card.

A girl is coming down the staircase opposite me. Black-haired, blue-eyed, in a sexy little black dress and black lace mask. She’s a fucking vision. She makes it hard to breathe. But that’s not all. From where I’m standing, now slightly below her, I can see up her dress. There’s a line of red lace showing off the curve of an absolutely perfect ass. A gorgeous blue-eyed, raven-haired woman. A rebel in red lace panties. That’s not a student. That’s trouble. Just my kind of trouble. “Damn.

I stood up to walk the long way back home in my wrinkled dress, legs shaking and throat burning with contained tears. As the torn lace of the white skirt I was wearing grazed my thighs, I knew for certain two things: I had no panties on, and there was a hollow space where my soul used to be. The soft and warm summer breeze punched me repeatedly, swaying my frail body around.

No way!” She doubled over and clenched her stomach as she laughed. “She has totally turned you into pussies!” My eyes narrowed which she caught just as I lunged. I flipped her over and flattened her on the mattress before bringing my fingers to her ribs and tickling her. “Wait,” she gasped and screamed. “I couldn’t quite hear you before. I’m a what?” “A pussy,” she blurted and wiggled to get away. “I see you think you’re too tough. I’ll have to show no mercy.” “No mercy! No mercy!” she mocked and screeched. “As you wish.” Her t-shirt had risen to reveal her lace panties. My mouth salivated when I lowered my face and kissed her through the material. Her breath caught and back bowed as I kissed her again, using my lips and tongue to coax her arousal to a fever pitch. “Mercy, please! Mercy!” she begged

Yeah, ignore me." Aaro pawed through the bags until he found one with stenciled hearts on it. "By the way, you never did tell me your size. Hope nothing binds or pinches your tender pink places, babe." He let the bag fly. It landed on Lily's lap. She shrank back as if it were a venomous snake. Fuck-me-please panties spilled out. A tangle of satin, lace and silk. Red, black, peach, flesh-tone. Bruno growled expletives in a Calabrese dialect as he shoved underwear into the bag. It was his standard tension reliever. None of the people he insulted knew he was commenting on their grandmother's predilection for sex with sheep. "I am not wearing that slutty, disgusting stuff." Lily's voice was haughty. "Certainly not after you're pawed it. Dog." "Arf, arf." Aaro's tone was more cheerful than it had been so far any time this morning. "I love it when she spits bile.

I was walking home alone late one night, when out of nowhere, this rabid homosexual jumped me and bit me right on the ass. I tried to fight him off, but you know those homos have superhuman strength. Anyway, he bit me on my left cheek, then took off. The whole thing shook me up, but I thought I was gonna be okay. It took me a few weeks to notice the changes. At first the signs were subtle: the sudden urge to redecorate my room, the uncontrollable desire to do Megan's hair. Then, as the phases of the moon progressed, I noticed other things: the need to wear lace panties, the insane hope of one day owning my own flower shop. Before I knew it, I was jacking off six times a day to pictures of Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. Of course, I won't be a full fledged gay boy until I bite someone else and pass on the 'dark gift. Hey, Rooster, you wanna be my first convert? If I turn just four people, I win like a toaster oven or something..

Zara turned in his arms. "What can I do to help?" He let out a shuddering breath. "You can go find yourself a guy who's not all messed up." "I kinda like this guy." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "If you hadn't noticed, messed up is my specialty." His hand slid under her nightshirt and he stroked the curve of her hip. "I need you." "I was hoping you'd say that." She drew his hand down to her lace-covered rear. "I've been wearing special panties every night in case you did.

Curran smiled. “What’s so funny?” “Your panties have a bow,” he said. I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top—not mine—and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? “What’s wrong with bows?” “Nothing.” He was grinning now. “I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains.” Wiseass. “I’m secure enough in myself to wear panties with bows on them. Besides, they are comfy and soft.” “I bet.” He almost purred. I gulped. Okay, I needed to either crawl back into bed and cover myself with the blanket or get the hell to the bathroom and back. Since I didn’t fancy peeing on myself, the bathroom was my only option. “I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a bit of privacy for my trip?” “Not a chance,” he said. I tried to get off the bed. Everything was under control until my weight actually hit my legs and then the room decided to crawl sideways. Curran caught me. His arm hugged my back, his touch sending an electric shiver along my skin. Oh no. “Need some help, ass kicker?” “I’m fine, thanks.” I pushed away from him. He held on to me for a second, letting me know that he could restrain me against my will with laughable ease, and let go. I clenched my teeth. Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll be back on my feet soon. I walked away from him, successfully maintaining vertical position, and zeroed in on the nearest door. “That’s the closet.

Dave was examining the lingerie with interest. “Ooh, very nice. So I take it I’m not the only one with an announcement to make. Let me guess. You’re not gay, you’re bi, and you’ve got a girlfriend that you’ve somehow managed to keep a secret.” He inclined his head toward the open drawer. “There’s a hell of a lot of pretty underwear in here.” He cocked his head to one side. “How am I doing?” He… he thinks they belong to a woman? He thinks I’m bi? Except Shawn knew he had to say something. “You’re not even remotely close. No, I’m not bi, I’m still gay. No, there’s no secret girlfriend, and…. ” He took a deep breath. “Those panties are mine.”  

Oh, baby, I can’t wait….” “Don’t. I want you, Chase….” She slid her fingers up the strong channel of his spine to lock in the soft heavy gold of his hair and urged him down until his mouth, hot and wet, latched hungrily on one distended nipple. He hooked his fingers in the fragile lace barrier of her panties and tore them away, then yanked at the fastening of his jeans. This time there was no slow slide of discovery. There was one endless agonizing second of delay as he made use of one of the packets she’d purchased, and then he was gripping her hips and plunging inside her, the pair of them bowing together as the ache of anticipation became a white-hot pulse of pleasure.

Christmas comes and goes as if it never happened. The white lights strangle the tree half on and half off, just like the new lace thong string panties that I got myself for Gym class days it was a gift to me from me. I had them on today… yet they were uncomfortable there. I do not want to stain them, so I took them off myself- this time, so I set them beside me on the floor. My old ones have been torn and they were washed far too many times. I am sitting just like the lonely tree in the living room, in the bay window nook, I am hugging my teddy bear, yet for me- this is what happens every day; even when it is not Christmas. However, as of now looking over this room, the tree is dying and the mantle of the fireplace is73 completely naked too. Why has the mantle remained untouched?

He picked her up, took her into the bedroom, and placed her on the bed. Wow---it was like a floating cloud. Ramón reclaimed her lips before his mouth left hers to blaze a path down her body. Heat pooled in her belly as he made his descent. He leaned in to lavish attention on her right nipple, licking around in circle before sucking on it, and then her left. Julieta moaned as he worked his magic. Her buds hardened against the softness of his tongue. She came alive under his mouth, writhing beneath. This entire night seemed like such a fantasy, and it was only going to get better. His hand caressed her body, and he cupped her ass. She ran her hands through his thick black hair as he guided his mouth down to her panties. Julieta's core throbbed for him. The sight of his wide shoulders and strong back was almost enough to put her over the edge. She couldn't wait to ravage him---kiss down his chest, pleasure him, but Ramón was in control, and he was focused only on her. He kissed her belly and settled in between her legs. His lips pressed against her black lace panties, the heat of his mouth igniting her fire. He planted more kisses on her, focusing now on her thighs. Julieta was out of her mind with lust. "Stop teasing me." She wanted Ramón's mouth on her, and she wanted it now. She began to remove her panties, but Ramón quickly got the hint and took them off. He looked up at her, and a devilish grin graced his face. "Tell me what you want, babe." "Cómeme." "My pleasure." He began to lick her, starting with her thighs, before lapping in between her lips. Slow and sweet, deep and dirty, Julieta wanted all of him. Ramón's tongue pressed against her clit, and she gasped, a flash of pleasure overtaking her. "Ah, Ramón." "You taste so sweet." He hummed against her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, holding him as his tongue worked its magic. She cried out, desperate for release. Julieta wanted this moment---not just the intimacy, but the night---to last forever. Ramón was every fantasy she had ever had wrapped up into one---strong, sexy, sweet, and oh so skilled. His deep voice, his capable hands, his delicious mouth. Perfection. She completely surrendered to him. "Ramón." She couldn't hold back any longer, as he edged her over the top. One final lick and a wave of ecstasy crashed through her followed by shivers of joy radiating through her entire body.

Blues Elizabeth Alexander, 1962 I am lazy, the laziest girl in the world. I sleep during the day when I want to, ‘til my face is creased and swollen, ‘til my lips are dry and hot. I eat as I please: cookies and milk after lunch, butter and sour cream on my baked potato, foods that slothful people eat, that turn yellow and opaque beneath the skin. Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday I am still in my nightgown, the one with the lace trim listing because I have not mended it. Many days I do not exercise, only consider it, then rub my curdy belly and lie down. Even my poems are lazy. I use syllabics instead of iambs, prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme, write briefly while others go for pages. And yesterday, for example, I did not work at all! I got in my car and I drove to factory outlet stores, purchased stockings and panties and socks with my father’s money. To think, in childhood I missed only one day of school per year. I went to ballet class four days a week at four-forty-five and on Saturdays, beginning always with plie, ending with curtsy. To think, I knew only industry, the industry of my race and of immigrants, the radio tuned always to the station that said, Line up your summer job months in advance. Work hard and do not shame your family, who worked hard to give you what you have. There is no sin but sloth. Burn to a wick and keep moving. I avoided sleep for years, up at night replaying evening news stories about nearby jailbreaks, fat people who ate fried chicken and woke up dead. In sleep I am looking for poems in the shape of open V’s of birds flying in formation, or open arms saying, I forgive you, all.

Carolina walked over to the private deck and turned on the Jacuzzi, the bubbles starting to bounce in the water. Enrique followed her and brushed his hand through the water. "That looks nice, but I don't have a swimsuit." "Neither do I," she said with a smile. She held his gaze as her sundress fell to her toes. She was standing there in nothing but the new bra and panties and heels he'd purchased at the store. The yellow lace barely covered her nipples, and the thong accentuated her perfect ass. Enrique wanted to fuck her against the hot tub until she screamed his name. But again, he reminded himself that he needed to go slow. "You sure? I can run down to the gift shop and buy us swimsuits." She shook her head. "No, Enrique. I just don't want to hold back anymore, I want you." She unhooked her bra and took off her panties, revealing dark curls between her legs. The sight of this beautiful naked woman caused his cock to spring to attention. She carefully slipped out of her shoes, stepped into the tub, and sat down. He'd assumed she would be shy, but apparently that girl was gone. Well then! Enrique stripped down, his cock at full attention. Her mouth opened at the sight of his naked body. He grinned and then slipped into the bubbles and sat next to her. Enrique was about to kiss her when she straddled his thighs. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. She kissed him. "I'm sure." "Carolina... you're so beautiful." He kissed her neck, and she tossed back her hair. His cock was pressed up against her soft belly. He so desperately wanted to be inside of her. Her hands rubbed all over his body, and she hesitantly touched his throbbing cock underwater. Her delicate fingers felt incredible with the current from the jets. Her nipples were glistening from the water, and he sucked on one. She moaned as he touched her pussy, sliding a finger inside of her while thumbing her clit. God, she was tight. "Enrique. That feels so good." He smirked. "You haven't seen anything yet." He lifted her to sit on the edge of the tub, spreading her legs as he knelt on the seat inside. She shook her head and closed her legs. "Oh, I don't know if I'll like that." He laughed. "Yeah, you will." She bit her lower lip. "Do you like doing it?" "Babe, I've been dying to eat your pussy since I met you." Her jaw dropped and her cheeks seemed redder, but maybe that was from the heat of the spa. "Enrique! That mouth!" He grinned. "My dirty mouth speaks the truth. Now spread your legs and relax." She cautiously opened her legs.

She isn't a little ten-year-old girl anymore. Those black, lace boy panties are just too damn sexy. I'm starting to harden again. Not now, Woody. Down, boy!

Well, look at what we have here...” I slurred, taking in the incredible sight before me. All that exposed skin. From her flat stomach to her prominent hip bones to her long, thin legs. I had to get my mouth on her. I pulled off my shirt before crawling onto the foot of the mattress, gripping my twelve fingers around three of her ankles, landing my lips on one of her four shins. I pushed her six knees apart with all intentions of kissing her on her pretty lace panties, but I couldn’t coordinate. Why’d I have to go and drink so much? What feeds me destroys me. I kissed her stomach instead, pinning her hips to the mattress, sliding my body on top of hers. I grabbed her wrists in my clutches and imprisoned her arms above her head. I was only working with a semi, and I couldn’t understand why with this beautiful girl underneath me, I wasn’t raging hard. I figured I could buy some time until my cock caught up to my eyes. Whiskey dick is a thing, people.

A desperate, whimpering moan escaped me when he stroked my clit through my lace panties, and I grabbed onto the edges of the sink for stability. Steele teased me through the thin fabric only a few moments before tugging them aside and driving two fingers deep inside me.

She hopped off the counter, ducked her head under me to catch my gaze, and palmed my face. “No, he was angry and provoked. You took a bullet for me, Romeo.” I scowled. “Don’t be dramatic.” “Thank you.” Since I’d made no progress finding the starting point to stitch myself, I cleared my throat, stepping back. “You’re welcome. Now leave.” “I want you.” Her hand ran the length of my chest up to my shoulder. I want you, too, which is why I need you to get the hell away from here.I no longer recognize myself or my actions where you’re concerned. You’ve become a liability I cannot afford. Rather than kick her out, I set the needle and thread down. “You can ride my thigh.” “I want to ride your cock.” She teased up the short hem of her olive satin dress. “When you forced me to tag along to Le Bleu, didn’t you say you’ll fuck me if I behave? I behaved.” “I said I’ll fuck you when you’re on your period.” “I interpreted that differently.” “It’s not a Benedict de Spinoza book. It was not open to different interpretations.” “Whatever. That last time wasn’t so great anyway.” Contrary to her words, her dress inched up, flirting with the border of her lace panties. “It happened so long ago that I don’t even remember much. Was I even there? Were you?” Egging me on wouldn’t work. Sadly for her, I was more sophisticated than that. She continued, undeterred. “Oliver told me you’re a born-again virgin. You know your pee pee has other functions, right?” “Leave, Dallas.” (Chapter 55)

He’d also taken the opportunity to examine her underwear.  If he was going to be an obsessed bastard, he might as well do it full throttle.  So he had a very clear picture of what silky bits of fabric separated her succulent curves from the pilfered clothes. He wondered if it was the black panties with the lace. Christ, he hoped so.

I chuckled and ran my hand up her smooth calf, rubbing the muscle. I pictured that delicate ankle on my shoulder where I could kiss it, run my palm down the outside of her thigh, pull down those light-blue lace panties…

Turning to leave, my eyes fall to the ground, where I notice a pair of black lace panties. Bending down, I pick them up and bring them to my nose, inhaling her sweet scent.

Flipping us around, he arches my back, kissing me down my stomach. Rolling my head back, he nips at the hem of my lace panties. He yanks them off and hefts up my hips, spreading my legs. Tracing his tongue along my throbbing folds, my sex grows moist as his hot breath induces a need within me. Massaging and nibbling, his tongue teases my entrance. Grasping his hair, he dives in. Groaning, my head rolls to the side as I buck my hips higher.

show up here.” “Let’s go then,” she said on a breathy sigh. “Not yet.” The music thrummed, rising to a loud crescendo, and so did Fiona’s pulse, pounding in her ears while Scorpio’s fingertip grazed the lace edging of her panties.

The image of May shoving the gun down her lace panty butt crack and drawing it like an old west cowboy is too much. Who are we? Who the fuck are we? Supergirls for real, that’s who.

A brick could be used to stop a bleeding wound. Though just between you and me, I’d prefer to be bandaged by a Band-Aid, a blanket, or a pair of lace panties (preferably red).


And you shouldn’t have called me your boyfriend.” He looks down at me as he opens the door of the restaurant for me. “I’m sorry,” I start. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just wanted her to go away.” And I wanted to stake my claim, even though I had no right to one. He looks down at me beneath the street light. “You shouldn’t have said it because you gave me hope,” he says. I can’t speak. I can’t utter out a sound. “Come home with me,” he says. I shake my head. He sighs heavily. “You know how this is going to end.” “I shouldn’t.” I really, really shouldn’t. “Fine,” he says, and then he bends at the waist and tosses me over his shoulder, just like the night before. Only this time, his hand is on my ass, under my skirt, instead of holding the backs of my legs. It’s hot pressed against my panties. I can’t say a word to him because he wouldn’t hear me. So, I just hang there, all the way to his building and up the four flights of stairs. He opens the door and walks inside. His brothers are there, and they look up. Sam and Pete snicker, and Paul shoots them a look. Matthew is on the sofa, and he shakes his head. Logan puts me down. Apparently, I’m not a sideshow attraction tonight. “Hi,” I say tentatively to them all. “Hi,” they call back. They don’t get up and rush over to me, not even when he sets me on my feet. “You’re back,” Matthew says as he walks to the fridge. He looks better tonight. Not quite as green. Sam walks to the kitchen, and Paul snaps at him when he reaches for a beer. He takes a soda, instead, grumbling to himself. Logan signs something to them. Pete tells him the name of the movie they’re watching, and it’s one I haven’t heard of. Logan points to the TV and then to me asking me if I’ve seen it. I shake my head. He sets my bag and my guitar on the floor and laces his fingers with mine. He tugs me gently toward the couch. Logan bumps Sam’s and Pete’s knees until they scoot over. There’s barely enough space for him, much less for me. “I’m going to go take a shower,” I say. But he sits down and pulls me into his side, his arm around my shoulders. Matt gives me a look I don’t understand. He doesn’t seem completely pleased by my being there. Did I do something to offend him? But Logan looks down at me and smiles, and then he places his lips against my forehead. Matt gets up and goes to his room but not before shooting me a glance that I couldn’t help but take as a warning.

Marcie felt something on her hair and woke to look into Ian’s rich brown eyes. Dawn was barely lighting the cabin and he was running his big hand over her curls. “Morning,” she said sleepily. He didn’t say anything. He just lowered his lips to hers and touched them gently, sweetly. She felt the brush of his beard, the soft flesh of his lips and let her eyes drop closed. He moved over her mouth for a moment. She moaned and slipped an arm around his neck, holding him there. He pulled back just a little and whispered, “We’re snowed in, honey.” “Good.” “I was jealous of Bobby, you know,” Ian said, petting her hair back along her temple, moving it over her ear. “Be careful, Ian—you’re talking about ‘it.’” “I’m ready to tell you anything you want to know. We were all a little jealous of Bobby. He had something real special with you. You sent him panties.” Her cheeks warmed in spite of herself. Her eyes got very round. “He showed you?” Ian chuckled. “He showed everyone. Very skimpy panties. I think they were lime-green with black lace or something.” “I cannot believe he showed you!” “He was proud of them. He kept them tucked in his inside pocket like a good-luck charm.” “They were perfectly clean, I’ll have you know.” “Aw, that almost comes as a disappointment,” Ian said, chuckling. “They should have had your scent on them.” “They had Tide and Downy on them!” “And you sent him that picture—on the motorcycle.” She put her hands over her face. In muffled tones she muttered, “I’m mortified.” He pulled her hands away and lightly kissed her again. “So the night I almost froze to death was actually the second time you’ve seen me in my underwear.” “Technically, I’ve seen your underwear a ton of times. I came home a couple of times to see your cute little rump sticking out of the covers, not to mention all that underwear on my tub, drying out,” he said. “And I’d trade my life to see you in your underwear again.” Her eyes got round for a minute, but then she smiled slightly and a little laugh escaped her. “I’ve heard some interesting come-ons in my limited experience, but that’s a new one. Tell me, do I have to shoot you after you peek?” “What if I told you, you might have to shoot me to stop me? Would that scare you?” “You don’t scare me, Ian. I know you’d protect me from anything. Even yourself.” He

Looking at him like he’d grown another head, she raised her hands up as she asked, “Don’t you have some other girl you want to harass? Maybe a girl who would actually appreciate it?” “Nope. You are the only girl I want to harass.” Which was the truth. Since he’d met Deanna, no other woman had existed for him. If he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. When he was with her, he wanted to stay with her, get to know her—and not only in the biblical sense, but that was definitely on top of his list. More attendees started filing out of the double doors, and Deanna’s head fell back as she let out a small groan. She might not have meant for the gesture to be or sound sexual, but that’s exactly what it’d been. He wanted to lean forward and press his lips to the soft skin on her neck, slide his hands up her dress and find out if she was wearing lace panties, silk panties, or no panties… “You win.You can drive me home.” She sounded anything but happy at her acquiescence, but Lucky was happy…Very happy. Well, this night had gone from bad, to worse, to horrible, to just plain humiliating. As Lucky opened the passenger side door to his SUV and held her hand while she got in, she immediately sent up a silent prayer that he didn’t notice the way a shiver ran up her arm from the touch of his large, rough hands. Deanna took a deep breath and pushed down the frustration and panic that was battling inside of her for top billing. Once he shut the door, she tugged her skirt down. When he got in, the entire left side of her body broke out in goosebumps from the intense stare he directed at her, but she kept her eyes trained ahead, looking out the windshield. She sat with her jaw set, her hands folded in her lap, and her back straight, hoping to convey that she just wanted to go home. “You’re quiet,” Lucky observed as they drove out of the parking lot. Proving his point, Deanna continued focusing out the window, at the moonlight dancing off the river. She knew she was being rude. She was a little too emotional and didn’t trust herself to speak. Especially considering the six glasses of wine she’d had this evening. Loose lips sank ships, and alcohol made her one Chatty Cathy capable of taking down an armada of ocean liners. “How was your evening tonight, Lucky?” he asked himself before answering his own question. “Oh, it was great, actually. Thanks for asking.” Deanna bit her lips to keep from smiling. She should’ve been annoyed at his adolescent behavior, and if it were any other guy, she was sure she would’ve been. But this was Lucky. And, whether she liked it or not (which, for the record, she didn’t), what should’ve been annoying or irritating on him always landed in the charming and amusing columns. “Of course!” he replied enthusiastically, still talking to himself. “I’m so glad you had a good time! What was the highlight of your evening, if you don’t mind me asking?” If he kept going, she was going to start cracking up, so she worked to maintain her composure. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Which she was fully aware made her behavior even more adolescent than his. She was being ridiculous. Still, trying to disguise her amusement, Deanna sighed. “Fine. You win again. What do you want to talk about?” Lucky shook his head as he clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Pop-Tart. You had your chance.” Pop-Tart? Had he seriously just called her Pop-Tart!? Before she was able to form an appropriately indignant response, he continued the conversation he was having with himself. “Wow. Highlight of my evening…” He hissed through his teeth. “That’s a tough one. I’m going to have to go with the dance that I had with this smokin’-hot brunette.” Her cheeks burned at his description. Then she tried to remind herself that he was joking around, but the message got to her head and, she feared, her heart too late.

The door she had just stepped through shut softly. Taylor faced Veris, took a deep breath and dropped the coat at her feet. Beneath she wore black lace-topped stay-up stockings, red and black French lace thong panties and a matching shelf bra, Swarovski crystals in her belly button and clipped to her nipples.

The doubts, strong as they were, were rousing more than hesitation. Her eyes drifted closed, fingertips sliding over the silk and lace panties she wore. Larry could never know how many times they’d been pulled aside in a rush of unbridled lust, how the side had been carefully stitched after they’d been ripped from her in a bar bathroom a few years ago by a man whose name she didn’t even know. She found her fingers at the seam, her breath shallow and shaking as she remembered the way his rough, callused fingers felt inside her, the ache of his teeth at her shoulder, the sound of his growling moans as he gripped her hair and plunged deep into her throat. She could still smell the whiskey on his breath, the stifling cloud of smoke that permeated every part of the hole-in-the-wall bar

Are we talking granny panties or lace?” Chad howled with laughter. Roland tightened his grip around me but kept me moving. I lifted my head high. I would not dignify Chad with an answer. Although, it was totally insulting he’d have to ask. Lace of course!

And this is the most gorgeous ass in the world,” he growled. “I almost started collecting panties for you, but somehow that just struck me as obsessive, don’t you think?” She shook her head. “Good, then you won’t be surprised when I pull out the few pairs I collected for you, no more than a few dozen, and ask you to wear them for me. Silk and satin and lace so delicate it’s no more than a whisper against your flesh. I’ll come just thinking of you wearing those panties beneath those mission pants you wear. They have ribbons too. And little bows. And some don’t have a crotch. I could slip right inside you, and not have to worry about tearing them from you first.

BECOMING UNDONE   Advancing down the front of her with my lips pressing firmly against her stomach my hands move up from underneath her shirt looking up into those eyes that long for me. Traveling up her long thighs my hands move with a subtle sophistication that sends shivers round about her. My hands and fingers inch all the way up under and passed her buttocks climbing over the top of her black panty line. Like a feather broom to a silk web her laced laungerie slips down her legs as her hands and fingers comb through my hair. With my fingers I draw a V below her lower abs sliding my lips between her libellule as she moves up the back of my neck. I remove her sandals from her heels looking up at her as my hands strum down from her back end, she gazing down at me with a still attraction.

THREE DAYS LATER I WAS STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF JEREMY’S OFFICE wearing nothing but a black lace push-up bra, matching panties, and black thigh-highs. A man I’d never met was fishing down the front of the bra. Normally, I have to be planning to sleep with a man before I let him fondle my breast, but it was nothing personal, just business.

I want to see you in your presents.” Dave’s gaze locked onto his. “Naked, except for panties, a garter belt and stockings.” Shawn’s

You still haven’t told me… Let me tell you what I want and it’s no pressure. I just want you to lay back on the bed, take those lace panties off and play in that pretty pussy. I ain’t gotta do shit to it; I want to see it again.

Tabby watched her retreating form for a moment before looking down. A pair of lace panties.

There was a Barbie doll with the pink hair, but she didn't wear any little replica outfits this time. Instead, down the length of her body, down her arms, legs, and even across her forehead, the same word was scribbled over and over. MINE. Then, just in case we didn't get the message, there was a box of matches and a pair of mud-crusted, black lace panties. The same pair I'd been wearing that day with Archer before we went to Wisteria. The same ones I'd kicked off on the side of the road and left behind in the rain and mud. No one spoke.

Curran pointed to the two doors on his left. I untangled myself from the sheets. I really had to go to the bathroom. The question was: would my legs support me? Curran smiled. “What’s so funny?” “Your panties have a bow,” he said. I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top—not mine—and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? “What’s wrong with bows?” “Nothing.” He was grinning now. “I expected barbed wire. Or one of those steel chains.

She pointed to a sundress with bright yellow lemons on it. "That's cute. I love lemons." Ay, Dios mio! Carolina cringed. She sounded like a fool. It was like Baby's "I carried a watermelon" line in Dirty Dancing. Why was she so awkward? "You'd look stunning in that." Enrique signaled to a woman who worked there. A saleswoman walked over to them from the back of the shop. She quickly and professionally assessed Carolina's body and then picked one of the bright dresses off the rack. "This should fit you. Shall I put it in a room for you, miss?" "Sure." Carolina followed her right to the dressing room. The dark hair on her arms stood at full attention and her heart raced. Nerves and anticipation swirled through her--- this whole day seemed like a fantasy, but it was tough for her to just live in the moment. She undressed and slipped the dress over her head. The soft fabric caressed her body, accentuating her curves. She stared at her figure in the mirror. She looked... sexy. Carolina had never seen herself as sensual, but in this dress, in the soft, warm glow of the dressing room lights, she was a knockout. The saleswoman had also placed some bright red pumps in the room. Carolina loved high heels and never had a problem walking in them, because she had spent so many years dancing with the Ballet Folklórico. Carolina's eyes practically bugged out of her head when she saw their bottoms, and she stroked the red soles--- they were Louboutins, an identifying detail she knew about from Blanca's endless fashion magazines. Blanca dreamed of owning a pair one day. She would be so jealous. Luckily, they were the same size, so Carolina would let Blanca borrow them. There was only one problem with Carolina's outfit--- her underwear didn't work with the dress. Her broad, wide bra elastics showed under the thin spaghetti straps, and her panties were too dark. She leaned out of the curtain. "Ma'am." The saleslady walked back over to her. "Can I get you something else?" "Yes. A bra and some panties." Carolina told the lady her sizes, and the lady went around the corner, returning later with an adorable matching yellow lace bra and thong. A thong. Her face crinkled. "Do you have anything with, uh, fuller coverage?" "Of course, dear. But not in the yellow. Do you want to match the bra?" Carolina did want to match the bra. It was such a cute set. She exhaled, stepping out of her comfort zone and into the lingerie. She again looked at herself in the mirror. She practically couldn't recognize herself--- a gorgeous young woman on a romantic day trip with a man whom she really liked.

Yes,” I tell her in praise, and my fingers go under the lace edge of her panties. “You learned well.

Eric?” “Yes?” “If your phone was in your pocket, then what’s that in your hand?” A short, yet awkward silence ensued— “There he is! That’s the pervert who stole my underwear!” —At least, it did until a horde of girls ran up and one of them pointed at Eric before shouting. “Uh-oh.” Eric leapt from his seat. “Here, hold these.” He shoved what he’d been holding into Lindsay’s hands and then bolted. “GET BACK HERE, YOU DAMN PERVERT!” “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!” Eric shouted back at the girls. Unfortunately, because he had turned his head to do so, he wasn’t watching where he was going and tripped over a chair. The girls used that opportunity to swarm him like hungry piranhas. Soon, the perverted young man’s screams filled the air. Throughout it all, Lindsay sat there, blinking as she looked down at the item in her hands. It was an article of clothing. To be more precise, it was a pair of panties. She stared at the white lace garment in her hands, trying to resist the temptation. Don’t do it, Lindsay. You’re better than this. You’re better than Eric. You don’t want to do this. But she did. She did want to do this. After discreetly looking around to make sure no one was watching her, Lindsay held the panties up to her face and took several deep whiffs. “These… these smell really good,” she mumbled before noticing her audience. Alex and Andrew were gawking at her, their jaws wide enough that a fist could have passed through them, and their eyes the size of hockey pucks. Lindsay blushed and went back to her salad. The rest of lunch was very awkward.

She isn't a little ten-year-old girl anymore. Those black, lace boy panties are just too damn sexy. I'm starting to harden again. Not now, Woody. Down, boy!

She sends him a picture of her haircut. He writes, Sexy lingerie would be nice. She strips down to her black lace panties and push-up bra that she bought for him. She lies down on the bed and takes a few pictures of herself and sends the best one.

My threshold for being respectful to this lucky, absent bastard was evaporating. I was going to make a move on her. If I didn’t, I’d never forgive myself for not trying. If there was even the slightest chance she might be into me, I had to try. But how? Should I just try to kiss her? Would she tell me to go to hell? Probably. What if I slid my hand over hers? Would she yank it away? She would. I knew she would. I needed something else. Something less. More subtle. Something that could go either way to test the waters. Something that could lead to something else. “Hey, I give a decent foot massage if your feet hurt.” I nodded to the center console where her heels still sat after being dropped through the sunroof. To my surprise, she pivoted until her back was against the door, and she swung her legs over into my lap. She put an arm behind her head and leaned back. “Go for it. Those heels were killing me today.” I grinned inwardly that my strategy worked and put my back to the door while I took her tiny foot in my hand. “I’m a foot massage master. ‘I don’t be tickling or nothing,’” I said, giving her a Pulp Fiction line. She snorted. “I’m exfoliated and pedicured. Someone should touch them.” I thought about what Vincent Vega says in the movie, that foot massages mean something. That men act like they don’t, but they do and that’s why they’re so cool. This meant something, and I knew she knew it. She was as familiar with that movie as I was. She had to be making the connection. And she’d allowed it. I reveled in the chance to touch her and at the unspoken meaning behind her letting me do it. “So, Foot Massage Master, what other tricks do you have in your bag?” she asked, giving me a sideways smile. I pressed a thumb into her arch and circled it around with a smirk. “I’m not giving you my trade secrets.” What if I need them? She scoffed. “Your gender doesn’t have any secrets that every woman hasn’t already seen by the time they’re twenty.” I arched an eyebrow. “Ever heard of the naked man?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh God, the naked man. That one’s the worst.” I laughed. “Why? Because it works?” She scrunched up her face. “I have to admit it has worked on me in the past. I mean, the guy’s naked. Half the work is done for you already. It’s kind of hard to say no. But when it doesn’t work, it’s so cringey.” I tipped my head from side to side. “It’s risky. I’ll give you that. You have to know your audience. But big risks can reap big rewards.” “Waiting for your girlfriend to leave the room and then stripping naked to surprise her when she gets back is so unoriginal though. You men have no new material. I swear you could go back twenty thousand years and peek into a cave and find cavemen drawing penises on everything and doing the naked man and the helicopter.” I pulled her foot closer and laughed. “Hey, don’t knock the helicopter. It’s the first move we learn. It can be a good icebreaker.” “The helicopter should be banned over the age of eight. I’m just going to spare you the illusion right now. No woman is sitting around with her girlfriends going, ‘Gurl, it was the sexiest helicopter I’ve ever seen. Totally broke the ice.’” I chuckled and ran my hand up her smooth calf, rubbing the muscle. I pictured that delicate ankle on my shoulder where I could kiss it, run my palm down the outside of her thigh, pull down those light-blue lace panties…

toilet bowl when I took a quick bathroom break. You can laugh, but you’d do it too. What if his face appeared in the toilet water as I was about to sit down. Lace bra and panties were one thing, but fully bared from that angle…I cringed at the thought.

The skirt swung around her ankles with a sexy little swish, and the blouse clung to her curves. She had to admit that the outfit made her feel feminine, as did his choice of sheer lace panties and matching bra. Are you going to sit there and think about me all night? His teasing voice seemed to caress her skin. Night! It had better not be night again, Mikhail. I’m turning into some kind of a night creature. And don’t flatter yourself. I was not thinking about you. It took great effort to lie blatantly. She was proud of herself. And you think I believe your nonsense? He was laughing again, and Raven found she couldn’t help giving in to her own sense of humor. It was fun to have someone to tease.

Baby, I want to fuck you so badly. I want these tiny lace panties balled up inside my sheets every morning, and I want your sweet cum all over my tongue.