"Look," I whisper, my breath stirring the hair at her temple. My gloved hand slides from her stomach, splaying possessively over the rapid flutter of her heart. "Look at what we are. Look at what you want."
In the mirror, our eyes lock. Hers are glassy with a heat that mirrors my own. The girls' muffled laughter is just a distant echo now, a trivial noise against the thunderous silence of this shared secret. I hold her there, letting her see herself utterly claimed, beautifully undone, in the glaring light before the world could intrude again.
Her reflection is a masterpiece of unraveling. A soft, choked sound escapes her as my command and the sight of us together collide within her. I watch her eyes in the glass, the shock melting into a dark, dawning hunger. She sees my smirk over her shoulder, the possessive arch of my body around hers, the stark contrast of my black glove against the pale skin I've bared.
The girls' laughter is a spark to my tinder. I lower my head, my lips tracing the frantic pulse in her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. My other hand leaves hers on the mirror and slides down, past the waistband of her jeans, not to delve, but to pull her back firmly against me, leaving no doubt about the effect she has, about the consequence she chose.
"Quiet, Bella,"
I breathe into her skin, the words a vibration she feels to her core. My eyes dare her in the mirror to make a sound, to give us away. It's a delicious, dangerous game. Every stifled gasp, every suppressed tremor as I move against her is a victory. She bites her lower lip, her knuckles white where they press against the cool glass, holding on as the world gossips and giggles just feet away, utterly blind to the sin unfolding in their midst.
Bella POV:
I bite down on my lip until I taste copper, desperate to cage the moans clawing their way up my throat. I can't believe we're doing this. Here. In a brightly lit fitting room, with a flimsy curtain as our only shield, while a group of girls dissect their date-night outfits just feet away
???: "Hey, do you think this dress would suit my date with Chris?" a voice chirped from the other side
His hand-God-his hand slid down the front of my jeans from behind. The cold, smooth leather of his glove made me shiver violently. I dropped my forehead against the cool mirror, my breath fogging the glass in ragged pants.
"Jerk,"
I whispered, the word trembling
?: "Not really, it looks like you're going to a club, not a restaurant."
"Call me whatever you want, bunny,"
he whispered into my ear. I could hear the smirk in his voice dark and satisfied. Heat and humiliation warred in my veins. I gathered the will to push back, to stop this madness, but then his thumb found my clit, circling once with devastating precision
My knees buckled. I almost folded right there against the mirror. A shocked, strangled moan tore from me, and I slapped my own hand over my mouth to stifle it, my eyes squeezing shut. Thank God. They didn't notice, their conversation flowing uninterrupted. I couldn't look at our reflection. couldn't see myself like this, flushed, debauched, held upright only by his wicked hand
??: "No, I think it's perfect to make him lose his mind. Giggle~"
"i am the one about to lose my mind in here, Bella,"
he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skit below my ear. His finger thrust deep, and I squeezed my thighs together, a feeble attempt to contain the sensation that was already consuming me.
"Hgn!"
The sound escaped, a sharp, choked gasp. My eyes flew open, wide with panic, and found his in the mirror. Knox. He just smirked, a predator with his prey cornered, and kept moving his fingers with a ruthless, knowing rhythm.
From the other side of the curtain, a voice cut through the giggles, laced with sudden curiosity.
???: "Wait.. did you hear that noise?"
A dead silence fell in the shared space beyond our curtain. My breath stopped. In the mirror, Knox's smirk only deepened. The silence from the other side of the curtain was sudden and absolute. It was a vacuum, sucking away the giggles and chatter, leaving only the pounding of my heart and the slick, sinful sound of
his fingers moving within me.
My entire body went rigid, In the mirror, my own reflection stared back, a portrait of guilty panic eyes wide, lips swollen and bitten. cheek pressed against the fogged glass, Knox's reflection was pure, unadulterated sin, His eyes, holding mine, glinted with dark amusement. He didn't stop. He slowed, the movement becoming a glinted, tantalizing torture, forcing me to feel every Inch, every stroke, while the world held Its breath,
A while whisper pierced the quiet,
?: "Hello? is someone in there?"
Knox's free arm snaked around my waist, hauling me even tighter against him, silencing any potential whimper, He leaned in, his lips a hair's breadth from my ear,
"Answer them,"
he breathed, the words barely audible threat and a promise, His fingers curled, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids, i jerked against him, a silent sob catching in my throat,
He was going to make me speak, While he did this,
I swallowed, my mouth desert-dry, "Y-yes," I managed, the word cracking, "Jus…trying something on, It's, tricky"
A beet of silence, Then a giggle, relieved and conspiratorial.
??: "Oh! Got it. Don't you hate those complicated zippers?"
Knox's chest vibrated with silent laughter against my back, His thumb pressed down on my clit, a ruthless, circular pressure, My vision swam, My fingers scrabbled against the mirror.
"Yeah," i gasped, the pretense crumbling, "Hate them,"
As the girls resumed their conversation, their voices fading slightly as they moved to another rack, Knox's mouth found the function of my neck and shoulder. He bit down, not hard enough to mark, but enough to brand, to claim, The sharp sting fused with the overwhelming pleasure coiling deep in my belly,
"'it seems you're a natural liar, bunny," he murmured against my skin, his pace quickening, becoming demanding, final, "Now be quiet, And come for me before they come back."
The commend was inescapable, The danger was electric. The pleasure was a cresting wave. With my eyes locked on his triumphant gaze in the mirror, the sounds of the mundane world just beyond the fabric, i shattered, The orgasm ripped though me, silent, violent, and utterly his. He swallowed my cry with a deep, sealing kiss, holding me upright as my knees gave out, my world dissolving into nothing but him, the mirror, and our perfect, secret ruin.
The thought sliced through the dizzy heat, sharp and horrifyingly clear.
*I hate to say this, but I loved it.*
It was a confession to the stranger in the mirror, the girl with swollen lips and wide, dark eyes, held firm against him. She loved the cold shock of the leather. Loved the delicate snick of the clasp giving way. Loved the rough poetry of being spun and pinned, forced to witness her own undoing in the merciless light.
His control should have felt like a prison. Instead, it felt like a key, unlocking a part of her that thrilled at the precipice. The giggling voices just beyond the curtain didn't shatter the tension; they coiled it tighter, making every suppressed gasp, every shared, frantic heartbeat, a stolen, sacred thing. The danger was not a threat, but a catalyst.
Her reflection showed the truth: the flush, the parted lips, the utter abandonment. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
And as his eyes, dark with a promise that was both a threat and a plea, captured hers in the glass, she knew. She didn't just love the it. She loved the why. She loved him. And that was the most dangerous consequence of all.