Mirabel didn't ask.
She just sat down on her throne-like couch, legs spread slightly, robe undone… waiting.
Janelle stood there, breath shaky, heart pounding like a war drum. The dim glow of the lights painted her bare skin golden. She was still sore. Still flushed from everything Mirabel did to her the night before.
But tonight felt different.
There was heat in Mirabel's stare yes but something possessive behind it too. Her eyes weren't just hungry, they were jealous.
"What's wrong?" Janelle asked softly.
Mirabel leaned back, jaw tight. "Who was the one that called you earlier?"
Janelle blinked. "That was just my friend."
"Friend?" Mirabel cut in, voice low and dangerous. "The one who keeps texting your phone after midnight?"
Janelle hesitated. "It's nothing. He's just."
"He?"
That was it.
Mirabel stood up. Her steps were slow but heavy, like thunder approaching. Janelle stumbled back slightly, heart fluttering in panic... and excitement.
Mirabel's hand grabbed her jaw, fingers pressing just enough to make her eyes widen. "Do you think I'm the kind of woman you cheat on, Janelle?"
"No! I swear I'm not."
She kissed her. Hard. Fast. Claiming.
When she pulled back, Mirabel's voice was ice and flame.
"Sit on my thigh."
Janelle froze.
"Now."
She obeyed legs trembling as she lowered herself onto Mirabel's bare thigh. Her skin was hot. The contact shot sparks up her spine.
"Grind."
"W-What."
"Grind on it, sweetheart. Prove to me who you belong to."
The pressure. The angle. The pure filth of it Janelle whimpered as her body obeyed. Each slow roll of her hips brought her closer to the edge. Mirabel didn't even touch her. Just watched. Fierce. Satisfied. Wicked.
"You're mine," she whispered darkly. "Every scream, every breath, every wet little mess you make it all belongs to me."
And Janelle, panting and shuddering as she rode her lover's thigh, could only nod… because she knew it was true.
---
To be Continued