My fingers hovered over the damp lace of her panties, the fabric clinging like a confession.
"Still sure you don't want the open-crotch ones, baby?" My voice was a blade wrapped in silk, dragging along her spine. "They'd save us both so much time." A pause. "And you're already so wet for me."
Emily's breath fractured. Her nipples strained against the flimsy dress, two desperate points of surrender. "I... I don't—" But her eyes were a storm of hunger, her thighs pressing together as if she could trap the ache.
"Liar." My palm cracked against her ass—CRACK—the sound sharp as a gunshot.
She jolted, spine arching, a gasp torn from her throat. "Ah—!" The phone buzzed against the counter. Victor's face glared from the screen, jaw clenched, eyes already slicing through the lie before she spoke.
"Em? What's taking so long?" His voice was a noose, tightening. He knew. Somewhere in his gut, he felt the rot.
Emily's fingers whitened around the phone. "J-just picking something out—"
