She doesn't give you a choice — the sheer fabric clings to her full, heavy breasts like it's barely trying, and your mouth is already watering before she even reaches for the clasp.

You lean in close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin, fingers brushing the lace aside just enough, lips finding exactly what she's been asking for since the moment she walked in.

The soft weight of her against your tongue, the sharp intake of her breath — whether the lingerie stays on or lands on the floor suddenly feels like the least important decision you've made all night.