Morphine (Complete)

𝟏𝟒

Chapter Fourteen

"You're hotter when you're not talking." Rannia muttered, fingers clenching together as she awaited his reaction. Heat. There was so much heat. Between her legs, her thighs, her mind, her body. It was indescribable, really, the feeling of Mykel between her legs, fingering her with those long, strong fingers...the rings along his middle finger—

She gasped as he curled his finger inside her tight walls, eliciting a tight burst of pleasure to run down her shaky legs. If there weren't a counter below her, she'd be on the floor.

The man chuckled, staring down at her writhing state. Writhing for him. Writhing because of him. "You think so, girlfriend?"

Mykel slowly thrusted his finger in and out. He leaned back so he could watch as his finger entered and exited her; how his palm slapped against her ass with each thrust. She was dripping all over him. White liquid seeped out of her pink little hole, coating all along his finger. He'd never been with a woman this needy.

"Yes."

She'd never been with a man this bratty.

A rumble rolled through his chest as he laughed in some sick form of pleasure. She could do none but glare. 

"Well, girlfriend, I'll keep talking then."

Rannia would have snapped at him, maybe even broken a finger while she was at it. But the feeling of him pleasuring her was taking over, and she could barely focus. All she knew was the feeling of him inside of her, him behind her, and him disciplining her.

His heavy stare met the steamed mirror. "Can you see yourself?"

"N-no," Rannia moaned out reluctantly, whines pitching her voice to the high heavens.

As one finger fucked her, he let the other massage her ass cheeks. When she was looking at their blurred outlines in the mirror, he spoke. A command. An order.

A discipline.

"Wipe it."

Through the blizzard of pleasure fuzzying her mind, Rannia managed to swipe clear a portion of the fogged mirror. Her arm fell back to the counter top, barely able to keep her up as her legs gave out.

"Look at yourself, girlfriend," he spoke quietly, watching as her eyes obediently met her own in the mirror.

Her trimmed brows were a little furrowed, pinched at the ends. Her cheeks were red, face flushed, eye lashes wet from both the water and her tears. Her bottom lip was swollen from how much she'd been gnawing at it, puckering out a little more than usual. Mykel watched as she observed herself in her lust-filled haze, and he too became enraptured by the sight that met him in the mirror. She was still wet, so she should have been cold, but when he touched her, her skin burned.

With his spell slowly settling over their bodies like a smooth gauze, he continued.

"If you look away from yourself, I stop."

It was too much. She hated it, god, she hated it. She hated how much she liked it, she hated how much she needed it. She hated that she would do anything to keep him going. Rannia loved a challenge, but this was no challenge. This was a sentence.

"Please, Mykel—fucking brat, wait, I mean—" Her words were muffled as she let out a pitiful moan. Mykel placed his forearm along her lips to muffle the noise. She bit down lightly and let out little groans instead.