Lynda's Lace by Lacey Alexander

moved and that it hugged her breasts deliciously. The lace at the tops of the stockings delivered the same subtle sensation on her upper thighs, making her pussy a little moister.
    But besides what she felt in that moment, she also couldn’t turn away from what she saw. She looked…beautiful. Not virginal—and not as wholly naughty as some of her old bedroom attire made her appear. But somewhere in between. An angel of sin. A bride of lust.
    And for the first time, she truly understood what Jordan saw when he looked at her in lace. She wasn’t just trying to feel it, or hoping to convince herself lace was okay—she really, truly felt it.
    And in that shocking moment, she realized she had no desire for leather, or vinyl, or anything rougher. She sincerely loved her body in Jordan’s lace.
    Maybe she was taking baby steps now, too. And maybe, if she got really lucky, she and Jordan could both keep taking these baby steps until they finally met somewhere in the middle. Maybe this was all going to be okay if she just let it be.
    “Um, Ginger, it fits,” she said loudly, suddenly remembering her guest in the other room. “It fits just fine,” she added, more softly to herself.
    “Show me,” Ginger called back.
    Show her? Lynda blinked at her own reflection in the mirror. Had she just heard that right? Was Jordan’s little messenger coming on to her?
    The truth was, pre-Jordan, Ginger was exactly the sort of woman who would have caught Lynda’s eye and had her thinking lecherous girl-girl thoughts. But she’d been so busy trying to be “the good Lynda” that it hadn’t crossed her mind beyond having noticed that Ginger had a great body with to-die-for breasts.
    And if she didn’t have Jordan right now, she’d happily show Ginger her sexy new ensemble. But she did have Jordan. And she was focusing on baby steps right now—baby steps for both of them. Fucking Ginger would hardly be a baby step.
    “Show you?” she finally yelled back. She’d considered going into the I’m-flattered-but-have-to-decline type answer, but perhaps it wasn’t safe to assume this was a come-on just yet.
    “Jordan wants you to.”
    Lynda’s pussy warmed as heat climbed her cheeks. Jordan wanted her to?
    This was suddenly getting interesting. “He does?” she asked.
    “Remember,” Ginger said, her voice going a bit silky, “he wants me to make sure it fits.”
    Intrigued, aroused, curious and just generally sucked in now, Lynda left the bedroom, listening to the click of her heels on the hardwood floor. When she emerged into the living room, Ginger stood before her wearing only a revealing pale lavender bra and panty set, along with the same black high-heeled sandals she’d arrived in. The lingerie was constructed of lace, with a few tiny beads and sequins sprinkled over it, and despite Ginger’s unerring confidence and the almost-harsh-looking tattoo adorning her neck, the lace not only softened her, but looked sexy as sin. Yes indeed, Lynda was understanding the appeal of lace more and more.
    Ginger said nothing at first, and neither did Lynda. But her pussy pulsed with the same rhythm of her heartbeat as she waited to see what came next.
    Her sexy visitor crossed the floor to where she stood and gently placed her palms on Lynda’s hips, the very touch scintillating. She slid splayed hands up over Lynda’s waist, stomach, ever-so slowly, until finally she cupped the outer curves of Lynda’s lace-covered breasts. Curling her fingers inward in a soft, sensual squeeze, she raked her thumbs over both beaded nipples through the fabric.
    Lynda pulled in her breath at the shock of pleasure, and Ginger’s voice came out husky. “You were right. It fits.”
    But Lynda still didn’t understand. Why had Jordan sent her? What did he get out of this? Unless he was coming over, too? “Is Jordan coming?”
    Ginger responded with a wicked little grin. “Oh, not just yet, probably. But if we get each other off, I’m sure he