Still Mirabel's POV
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She tasted like nerves and sugar and restraint.
I took my time.
Not everything has to hurt. Not every reward needs to sting. Sometimes power lives in slow kisses, in the way I look up at her from between her trembling legs, in the way I don't let her close her thighs even when she squirms.
"Keep your eyes open," I whispered, mouth brushing against her skin, "I want you to see how much I enjoy this."
She moaned soft, fragile.
"Too much?"
"N-no," she gasped, "just… m-mirabel"
"Mmh, say it again."
She swallowed. "Mirabel."
"Good girl."
Her body arched, hips twitching under my mouth. She was dripping for me, needy but trying not to fall apart too quickly. She wanted to be good for me.
That made me crueler in the gentlest way.
I didn't rush. I wanted her to cry from pleasure, not pain. I wanted her to shake not because she was afraid but because I touched her like she was something expensive, something only I could afford.
And when she finally begged?
When that soft voice broke?
"Please… I need please, Mirabel"
Only then did I hum approval against her.
"Come for me," I whispered, voice low, commanding, tender, "Let go, Janelle. Just this once."
She shattered.
Not loud.
Not messy.
But so utterly undone.
I held her after. Wrapped her in my arms, lips on her ear. She tried to hide her face in my shoulder.
"Don't be shy now," I said, stroking her hair. "That was beautiful."
"I I feel like I'm dreaming…"
"No, darling," I murmured, "You're mine."
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To be continued