In the boudoir

Waiting for him, I stand in the boudoir and let the pink dressing gown fall open. Feathers brush my skin as sheer lace reveals every curve. My blonde hair slips over one shoulder, and I slide the fabric wider until my breasts meet the cool air. Fingers trail down my stomach, push past the thin waistband, and find how wet I already am. I press two fingertips to my clit, slow circles at first, then faster as my breath catches. The gown slips off my shoulders and pools at my feet. Naked except for the lace and the open robe, I lean against the edge of the chaise and spread my legs wider. I dip lower, slide one finger inside, and moan at the tight grip. My hips roll to meet each thrust while the other hand works my clit. Lace scrapes my nipples with every movement. I come fast, thighs trembling, biting my lip to keep the sound inside. The dressing gown stays open, useless now, as the last ripples fade through me.