Mirabel's breath is rough, dragging along Naya's spine.
She's behind her now.
One hand around her neck.
The other buried between her thighs, slow… cruel.
"Moan louder," she commands, voice thick with venom. "Let her hear it… wherever she is."
Naya gasps, eyes rolling, hips twitching under her touch.
"You're filth," Mirabel whispers, licking the shell of her ear. "And I'm going to make you feel like the worthless little toy you are."
She doesn't even kiss her anymore.
Just bites.
Scratches.
Marks.
Red streaks bloom across Naya's back each one more violent than the last.
And then
Janelle's name lights up Mirabel's phone.
Vibrating on the nightstand like fate itself wants to be part of this madness.
Naya tries to speak but Mirabel shoves her face into the pillow.
"Don't move."
She picks up the phone. Answers. On speaker.
"Hello?"
"Baby… I've been calling… I just—can we talk?"
Mirabel smirks, dragging her fingers slowly along Naya's soaked center.
Naya whimpers, muffled.
"Talk? Now?" she says sweetly. "I'm a little… busy."
Janelle goes quiet.
"…Are you alone?"
Naya tries to cry out—Mirabel slaps her ass. Hard.
"Do I sound alone, Janelle?"
"Did your little toy moan like that for you?"
"Mirabel—"
"No, no, keep talking. I want you to hear how I ruin her.
Since she loves recording, maybe I'll send you this one too…"
She ends the call.
Throws the phone away.
And finally turns Naya over, straddling her, lips dripping honey and fury.
"Now scream for me, bitch.
Louder than that video.
Louder than her."
And Naya does.
Because she knows this isn't about her anymore.
She's just the altar Mirabel's burning love on.
---
To be continued