She's in charge, and he knows it. She tells him to lie down, and he complies, his heart pounding in his chest. She straddles him, her dress riding up to reveal her lace panties. She grinds against him, her wetness soaking through the thin fabric, marking him. She laughs, a low, seductive sound, as she watches him struggle to maintain control. She leans down, her breath tickling his ear, and whispers, "You're mine to play with." She climbs off him, leaving him craving more, a begging, needy mess.