Chapter 3

The door slid open silently.

Michael had his head thrown back in pleasure, oblivious to me entering.

Seeing him like that made me itch with desire—this man was irresistible no matter what.

I crept slowly toward the bed.

Just as I reached the edge, he sensed something and snapped his eyes open.

The second he saw me, panic hit.

Michael's face flushed; he clutched the sheet tight around his waist. He tried to stand, but the blanket was too small—if he did, his back would be fully exposed.

So he stayed seated, eyes darting away, refusing to look at me.

Like a kid caught misbehaving.

I bent down and picked up the thong he'd dropped in his panic.

“Oh! Michael, this... isn't this mine...”

I pretended to be shy, coquettishly tossing it into his lap.

“You're so bad! Stealing my panties to do naughty things! I hate you...”

“Sorry, I... I...” To my surprise, Michael just apologized—no excuses.

No wonder I picked him—he was a good guy!

I sat on the bed and pressed a finger to his lips.

“Michael, I'm not mad. I just... don't understand.”

“Understand what?” he asked.

I stared intensely and leaned closer:

“I just don't get it—I'm right here. Why use my panties when you could have me?”

“And if you're using those, you need the set—can't do without the bra, right?”

As I spoke, I reached back, unclasped my bra, and slid it off my arms.

Then, teasingly pinching the strap, I dangled it in front of him.

If he was holding back before, he completely lost it now.

His eyes burned with raw desire, ready to consume me.

He flipped me onto the bed.

Roughly snatching the bra, he pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand.

“Michael, what are you doing?” I asked innocently.

He smirked, leaning close to my ear: “You.”

Then he bit my earlobe.