Because Naya didn't do soft. And Janelle didn't want safe anymore.
Naya had rules.
No emotions. No promises. No holding hands after 3 a.m.
But this morning, she broke all of them.
She dragged Janelle into the kitchen half-naked, fed her toast while sitting between her legs, made her laugh until she forgot her name
then dropped her on the counter and made her remember exactly what she tasted like.
Janelle didn't know how to feel. Her body wanted Naya again. Her heart? She wasn't sure it was still beating for Mirabel.
"You're looking at me like I'm poison," Naya said, licking her fingers. "Is that what this is? You want to stop?"
Janelle didn't speak.
Naya took her silence as consent like she always did.
"Then shut up and open your mouth."
She kissed her again, rougher this time, hand gripping Janelle's neck just tight enough to make her whimper.
"You like being touched like this?" Naya whispered. "You think Mirabel could ever make you feel this filthy?"
Janelle moaned. Her thighs clenched. Her head spun.
But her soul her soul was drowning.
---
That night, Naya didn't just take her.
She taught her.
She tied her hands with her own silk scarf.
She made her watch in the mirror.
She whispered things no lover had ever dared to say to her.
"You're not a wife," Naya said.
"You're a beast, Janelle. You're mine when you break."
And Janelle broke. With teeth marks. With blood. With guilt so hot it burned into lust.
---
Two Days Later…
Mirabel's name lit up her phone. Janelle didn't answer.
She stared into her reflection… and for the first time, she didn't recognize the woman staring back.
Not soft.
Not sweet.
Just a dangerous curve of lips.
Naya entered behind her, pressed a kiss into her bruised shoulder. "Told you," she whispered, smirking. "You're more fun when you don't care."
Janelle turned, grabbed her by the neck, and kissed her first this time.
---
To be continued