Stalker

Winter
He slide his hand beneath my dress, fingers brushing against my skin as he grip my thigh, squeezing it with enough force to make sure I feels every bit of his dominance.
Slowly, deliberately, he move his hand upwards, fingertips tracing the curve of my panties.
The fabric feels delicate and fragile under his touch. With a decisive yank, he rip them away, the sound of tearing fabric fillin...