He winks and removes his jacket, hanging it on the hook on the door. “I don’t want smooth,” he mutters. I swallow hard as I watch him slowly undo his belt and lower the zipper on his chinos. The skin of his lower abdomen is taut and golden. I know now that the sexy trail of hair there will flare out to a tidy bush around his cock.

His zipper falls open, and there’s a flash of black lace. “Oh shit,” I groan quietly. “Show me.”

He bites his lip, his face full of mischief, and I know I’m in for a scorching-hot sexual encounter. His naughtiness stuns me every time, and I love how free and open he is to doing anything. It makes me wonder at the idiots who came before me. How did they let him get away?

Then my thoughts spin away as he lowers his chinos, and I finally get a full glimpse of his knickers. They’re sheer black mesh with some sort of pattern on the delicate fabric, and they’re piped with hot pink roses and ribbon. His cock is hard, and every lovely inch is on view, debauched beneath the delicate fabric, its ruddy head creating a spot of moisture and his balls distending the fabric below.

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say hoarsely. I glance at his face and I’m happy to see his previous hesitation about wearing the knickers is gone. He’s glowing, his face alight with warm sensuality. “You’ve been teasing me all night, Charlie.”

He smiles slowly. “Maybe a little bit.”

“More than a little bit. Flashes here and there. Letting me see but never enough.”

He licks his lip and pivots slowly. A groan erupts from the back of my throat when I see his arse. A black mesh thong is burrowing into the crack of his arse, leaving the taut golden globes of his bum bare.

“God,” I say reverently. I fall to my knees.

“Misha,” he whispers.

I look up at him as I palm his arse cheeks. “We have to be very quiet,” I warn him. “I don’t want to end up being barred from the theatre.”

“I should hope not,” he whispers back. “They’re showing The Taming of the Shrew next month.”

I snort helplessly and rest my head against his arse. “Charlie,” I say helplessly. “Reciting the theatre timetable and making me laugh won’t get you fucked.”

He laughs softly, but I’m gratified when it turns into a stifled moan as I lick up the crack of his arse, bathing the delicate fabric in moisture. “Oh shit,” he says. “Ungh.”

I spread his cheeks apart and groan at the sight of his little hole playing peekaboo with the fabric. Unable to resist, I lap delicately at it, feeling the material get soggy and pulling back to breathe hotly over it.