Naya isn't sleeping much anymore.
Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Janelle kneeling between her thighs, voice teasing, hands commanding.
Every little innocent blink Janelle used to give? Gone.
Now her eyes hold something darker… something unpredictable.
And the worst part?
Naya loves it.
She's obsessed. Possessed. Addicted.
She starts texting Janelle in the middle of the night:
"What are you doing?"
"Are you thinking of me?"
"Do you want me again?"
But Janelle?
Sometimes she replies.
Sometimes she doesn't.
And that is driving Naya out of her damn mind.
Meanwhile…
Mirabel lands from her business trip—glowing, clueless, and completely unaware that her little lover has become a full-on temptation goddess.
She steps into the house, suitcase in one hand, her heels echoing on the floor.
"Baby, I'm home," she calls, expecting that usual sweet kiss from Janelle.
But Janelle walks in slowly… wearing lace… barefoot… eyes unreadable.
And Mirabel?
Mirabel melts.
She doesn't know that Naya was in that bed just 48 hours ago.
She doesn't know that her baby girl has learned how to touch someone in ways that scare her.
All she sees is her pretty little darling… looking absolutely sinful.
Janelle kisses her softly.
Slowly.
But behind her back, she opens her eyes and stares into the mirror.
She's watching herself now.
Like a queen checking her throne.
--
To be continued