Lace garterbelt

She stands in the doorway wearing nothing but lace. The garterbelt sits high on her hips, straps pulling tight against pale skin. Floral stockings climb her thighs, delicate petals pressed against her legs. He watches from the bed. She steps closer, heels clicking on the floor. One foot lifts, rests on the mattress. He reaches for her ankle, thumb tracing the seam along her arch. She keeps still, lets him look. The lace stretches across her stomach as she breathes. He pulls her closer by the strap at her thigh. She smiles, already wet beneath the sheer fabric. Her other leg swings over him. Stockings rasp against his skin. She settles her weight, grinding slow, feeling him harden beneath her. He runs his hands up her calves, over the lace tops, fingers slipping beneath the garter straps. She rocks her hips, letting the friction build. He leans in, mouth at her knee, breathing warm through the nylon. She sighs. The room stays quiet except for the soft catch of her breath and the faint sound of silk against skin. He keeps her foot in his hand, pressing his thumb into the arch, and she gives him everything he wants.