("Good girls obey. Wet girls surrender.")
Janelle wore a tight black skirt. No panties. Just skin. Just need.
She stepped into the office early, just like Mirabel ordered. Her heart thundered beneath her blouse. Her thighs pressed together, already slick.
Mirabel was already there, leaning against her desk, legs crossed, coffee in hand like she hadn't just shattered Janelle's sanity the night before.
"You remembered," Mirabel said without even looking up. "No panties?"
"Yes…" Janelle whispered, biting her lip.
"Prove it."
Before Janelle could speak, Mirabel placed her coffee down, walked over, and slowly circled her like a lioness. Her fingers brushed Janelle's thighs. Then pushed the skirt up slightly, enough to feel the truth.
"So obedient…" she purred, nails dragging gently along her inner thigh. "But still shaking like a virgin."
"I—I am," Janelle stammered.
Mirabel smiled wickedly. "Not for long."
She led Janelle to her desk.
"Get under."
Janelle hesitated. Mirabel raised a brow.
"Do I look like I enjoy repeating myself?"
Janelle dropped to her knees and crawled under the desk. It was dim, tight, hot. Her breath was shaky.
Then Mirabel sat in her chair legs spreading, skirt sliding up. The scent of her perfume and power made Janelle dizzy.
"I have a meeting in ten," she said, voice cool. "But that's enough time for your mouth to make itself useful."
Janelle blinked.
"W-What do you mean?"
Mirabel laughed, low and dangerous.
"I mean put that innocent little tongue to work, darling. You're mine now."
She pulled Janelle closer by her hair.
"And if I don't feel you worshipping me in the next five seconds…" her voice dropped to a growl, "you'll spend the night tied up on my desk."
Janelle didn't hesitate anymore.
Not when her mouth was claimed.
Not when Mirabel gasped.
Not when dominance melted into pleasure, and silence was filled with wet sounds and quiet moans.
Ten minutes?
That meeting could wait.
---
To be continued