Morning light cut through the blinds like sharp fingers, casting golden lines across the mess that used to be Mirabel's office.
The scent of last night still clung to the air
Sweat, perfume, and something more primal.
Janelle stirred, cheek resting against her boss's blazer, her thighs still trembling with memory.
Her underwear? Missing.
Her blouse? Half-buttoned.
Her neck?
Bruised.
She sat up too fast. A sharp ache shot between her legs.
"Ah " she gasped, grabbing the edge of the desk for balance.
Mirabel's voice was lazy but laced with dominance.
"Good morning, trouble."
Janelle turned, eyes wide.
"You… stayed?"
"I never leave what's mine unsupervised."
A pause.
Mirabel sat upright in the leather chair, legs crossed, silk robe barely tied. She was holding Janelle's panties like a souvenir twirling them on one finger like a trophy.
"You were drooling in your sleep," she teased, then leaned forward. "Was it my fingers? My mouth? Or the fact that I made you beg with your legs wide open on my desk?"
Janelle's face burned.
"I have to go," she whispered.
"You're late."
Janelle's head shot up.
"What?!"
Mirabel smirked.
"Your first meeting started fifteen minutes ago."
Janelle gasped, fumbling with her skirt and heels.
"Oh my God where's my bra? My phone?! My"
Mirabel reached over, clipped her bra around her wrist like a bracelet, and offered it.
"You'll leave when I say you can leave," she said calmly. "And if I catch you talking to another assistant like yesterday…"
Her tone dropped
Dangerous. Possessive.
"I'll make sure you leave this building with shaking knees and my lipstick between your thighs."
Janelle froze.
Mirabel stood up, towering over her. Her fingers trailed across the bruises she painted hours ago.
"Next time," she whispered, "I'm going to make you wear my name… inside."
Janelle's breath hitched. Her knees weakened.
And just like that, Mirabel tucked her panties into her blazer pocket, pulled Janelle's chin up, and kissed her like the night never ended.
---
To be continued