“It’s not the thong—it’s the woman wearing it. She makes my actions … unpredictable.” When I’d left her apartment after finger f*****g her to the point of exhaustion, I spotted her discarded thong on the floor as I was leaving. Without giving myself time to think, I snagged the tiny scrap of fabric and tucked it into my pocket. Later, I had wondered if she’d notice. I should have known my little lynx missed nothing. I lowered the knife and slid it back into its sheath on her thigh. “Get on the bed.” I removed my shoes and the rest of my clothing as I watched her follow my command with a sensuality Marilyn Monroe would have envied. She slipped off her shoes, then eased onto the bed facing me, her gaze glued to mine. She wore nothing but her knife, and I’d never seen anything more mesmerizin
