("You shouldn't answer my call if you want to stay innocent.")
Janelle was in bed.
Plain cotton shorts. An old hoodie. Pillow hugged tight to her chest. She hadn't stopped thinking about lunch. The way Mirabel stared. The way her words touched. How she could feel them between her thighs without being touched at all.
She'd barely calmed down when her phone buzzed.
Mirabel đź–¤
10:43 PM – Calling…
Her breath hitched.
She answered.
"Good girl," came that low, smug voice instantly. "I like quick responses."
"I didn't know you'd actually call…" Janelle whispered.
"Then you don't know me yet," Mirabel said smoothly. "But you will."
There was a long pause. Janelle could hear the sound of wine being poured on the other end. Jazz played in the background.
"You're home?" Mirabel asked, voice like liquid heat.
"Yes."
"In bed?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"…Yes."
"You always sound this shy?"
She asked it like a dare. Like she knew exactly how it made Janelle's heart flutter.
Janelle rolled onto her side, biting her lip. "Only when I feel watched."
"Oh, you are," Mirabel purred. "Even if you can't see it yet."
There was silence. Heavy. Wanting. Dangerous.
"You wore a cheap perfume today," Mirabel finally said. "Don't do that again. It doesn't suit your skin."
Janelle blinked. "How did you even"
"I pay attention. You're mine now, remember? You just don't realize it yet."
Janelle swallowed hard.
"I I'm not yours."
Mirabel chuckled. Slow and cruel. "You're adorable when you lie."
There was a beep.
Call ended.
She left her like that alone, flustered, confused, and aching with something unfamiliar.
---
To be continued