The sun peeked through the white curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the bedroom. The scent of fresh soap and jasmine lingered in the air. Jerry had just finished her morning pull-ups on the balcony, her arms slightly glistening from the light sweat. She wiped her face with a towel and stepped back into the room, ruffling her hair casually.
But the sight that greeted her made her pause.
Mira stood in front of the mirror, barefoot, wearing nothing but Jerry's oversized black shirt—barely buttoned. Her long damp hair cascaded over her shoulders as she dried it with a towel. The shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the curve of her collarbone.
Jerry's breath hitched. Her heartbeat quickened.
Mira was about to turn when Jerry suddenly scooped her into her arms, lifting her effortlessly and sitting down on the edge of the bed with Mira now straddling her lap.
"Jerry—!" Mira gasped, instinctively trying to pull the long shirt lower to cover her bare thighs. "I'm not wearing anything underneath—"
"I know," Jerry smirked, her voice a low whisper. She pulled Mira closer until their chests touched, feeling the warmth of her bare skin through the thin fabric. Her hands slid slowly to Mira's lower back, drawing soft circles there. "You make it harder to be a good girl every morning."
Mira bit her lip, breathing uneven. "Every time you kiss me… you do what you want and then leave me hanging…"
Jerry leaned in and brushed her lips along Mira's neck, voice deep and teasing. "That's because I love to take my time… And I love to eat dessert between your legs."
Mira let out a soft groan, gripping Jerry's shoulders, her face flushed. Jerry's large hand slid under the shirt, gliding up Mira's back, sending shivers down her spine.
"J-Jerry…" Mira whispered, losing herself in the moment.
Jerry's lips found Mira's neck again—this time pressing a kiss and following it with a gentle bite, leaving her mark behind. Mira's eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back slightly, breathing hot and needy.
"I warned you," Jerry murmured against her skin, "not to wear that shirt around me."
Jerry's lips trailed from Mira's neck to her collarbone, her hands firm on Mira's hips to keep her still. Mira's breaths were getting heavier, her hands tangled in Jerry's shirt, feeling the steady thump of her heart beneath her palm.
"You're dangerous when you look like this," Jerry whispered, lifting her head to meet Mira's dazed eyes. "Soft. Wet hair. My shirt… and nothing else. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"
Mira smirked through her hazy expression. "Maybe. Maybe I like watching you lose control."
Jerry growled softly, flipping Mira gently to lie her down on the bed again, hovering over her.
"Keep teasing, Mr. Kingston's fiancée… and I might make you scream that name loud enough for the whole city to know," Jerry whispered, eyes gleaming with heat.
Mira flushed so deep red it looked painted on her skin. "I'd rather you show me instead of threatening."
But just as Jerry leaned down again, her phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Jerry groaned, forehead falling against Mira's shoulder. "That better not be Grandpa."
Mira giggled. "It is. Want me to answer and tell him you're… busy?"
Jerry kissed her bare shoulder and got up slowly. "We have a meeting with him in an hour. If I don't stop now… we won't be showing up dressed."
She turned to Mira, who was still lying there in her shirt, looking like sin and sweetness all in one.
Jerry ran a hand through her hair and smirked. "Get ready, tease. You're coming to that meeting… but don't think I've forgotten dessert."
Mira rolled onto her side, legs peeking out from under the shirt. "I'll be waiting, Mr. Kingston."
Jerry raised an eyebrow. "Don't tempt me."
They both laughed, the tension melting into something warm and playful, their love tangled in heat, laughter, and the quiet promise of forever.
Jerry leaned back in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on Mira's thigh. They'd barely pulled out of the driveway when her hand started to drift—slowly, innocently at first. But with every red light, that hand climbed higher.
Mira squirmed, her breath catching as Jerry's fingers brushed dangerously close to where the heat was already pooling.
"Jerry…" Mira warned, her voice already breathy.
Jerry didn't even look at her, just smirked and murmured, "I'm just resting my hand, Miss Langford."
"Your hand is about to start a war," Mira said, cheeks flushed.
Jerry chuckled under her breath. "A war I'd win.Easily."
Suddenly, Mira grabbed her hand and guided it—deliberately—between her legs, over the fabric of her dress. Jerry's jaw tightened, her throat bobbing.
"Damn," she whispered, eyes darkening.
"I'm still mad at you," Mira teased with a little pout, but her legs parted slightly, like her body had its own opinions.
Jerry turned her head, eyes narrowing like a predator. "Can I… taste the dessert now? Just a little?"
Mira's face turned scarlet, and she quickly shook her head. "No. You have to wait till after the meeting."
Jerry groaned, head falling back against the seat. "You're cruel."
"You love it," Mira grinned, placing a kiss on Jerry's jaw. "And maybe if you behave during the meeting… I'll let you have seconds."
Jerry's smirk returned, devilish and full of promise. "You're going to regret teasing me like this."
Mira laughed, brushing her fingers against Jerry's neck. "Oh, I hope so."
They pulled up to the Kingston estate just as the tension reached its peak. Jerry fixed her shirt collar, trying to look composed. Mira reapplied her lip gloss with shaking hands, cheeks still pink.
"Let's get through this meeting first," Jerry said, stepping out.
"Then what?" Mira asked, looping her arm with hers.
"Then I'm eating dessert."
Mira stumbled, laughing, as they walked to the door—two fools in love, trying to survive the heat before their engagement got officially blessed.
The massive hall of Kingston Manor echoed with soft footsteps as Jerry and Mira stepped in, still holding hands. They were quickly greeted by the head butler, who bowed deeply before leading them into the sitting room, where Grandpa Kingston waited—imposing as always, but with that mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Well, well," he said, putting down his tea. "Took you two long enough."
Jerry straightened, Mira standing just a little behind her, trying to hide her flaming cheeks.
"Sorry, Grandpa," Jerry said, her voice as smooth as ever. "There was traffic."
"Oh?" He narrowed his eyes. "Was the traffic on her neck?"
Mira's eyes widened in panic. Jerry blinked. "What—"
Grandpa pointed at the side of Jerry's neck, where a soft red lipstick mark sat boldly above her collar.
Mira nearly yelped. Jerry's hand flew to her neck.
Grandpa chuckled deeply. "I see romance is blooming quite well. Which is why…" He leaned forward, lacing his fingers. "The engagement is this weekend."
"What?" Jerry choked, almost stumbling.
Mira gasped softly beside her, half hiding behind Jerry now.
"I see no point in waiting. The world already sees you as a couple. You're already living together, working together, and clearly"—he raised an eyebrow toward the mark again—"enjoying each other. Faster is better."
Jerry's face flushed. "Grandpa…"
Grandpa waved a hand, standing. "No arguments. And to make sure you both are properly ready, take Mira to your bedroom. Show her around. Get some rest. Take your time."
Jerry could barely suppress her grin. She bowed dramatically. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Mira groaned in embarrassment, covering her face. "This is not happening…"
"Oh, it's happening," Jerry whispered as they walked out.
—
In Jerry's private room, everything was soaked in golds and deep greys—elegant, masculine, with a warm light.
The door clicked shut behind Jerry, locking them into the golden quiet of her bedroom. Mira's heartbeat pounded in her chest as she watched Jerry toss her keys on the dresser, eyes dark with intention.
Without a word, Jerry began to unbutton her shirt—slowly, each movement deliberate. Mira's eyes followed every motion, lips parting as Jerry rolled up her sleeves and unbuckled her belt. She looked like a storm in human form—composed, powerful, and utterly irresistible.
Mira stood near the edge of the bed, her breath shallow, clutching the sheets as Jerry approached. "It's time, Mira," Jerry whispered, her voice husky, "no more teasing."
Mira turned around, wrapping her arms around Jerry's neck, pressing their foreheads together. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Then eat me up, Kingston…"
Jerry smirked, eyes glowing with fire. She gently took Mira's dress in her hands and peeled it off inch by inch, as if unwrapping the most delicate treasure. Mira shivered, standing in the soft light, bare and beautiful.
Jerry kissed her slowly, deeply, before laying her back on the bed. Her lips trailed down Mira's stomach, igniting every nerve as she went, her strong hands roaming Mira's thighs.
"Still want to tease me?" Jerry asked with a grin, spreading Mira's legs as Mira bit her bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and wanting.
"No," Mira whispered, breathless, "I surrender…"
Jerry lowered her head, her kisses growing deeper, more intense, worshipping every inch of Mira's soft skin. Mira's hands clutched at the sheets, then found Jerry's silky hair, holding her tight as her breath hitched and moans escaped her lips.
Every touch was slow but sure. Every kiss was a confession.
By the time Jerry looked up at her, Mira was breathless, glowing, and full of love. Teasing Jerry might've been a mistake.
Mira's back arched off the sheets as Jerry's mouth moved lower, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"J-Jerry…" Mira whimpered, her fingers tangling in Jerry's silky hair. Her body trembled under every kiss, every deliberate touch. Her thighs trembled around Jerry's shoulders as her breath hitched.
But Jerry didn't stop.
She was lost in Mira—devouring every inch of her, slow and deep, like she was savoring her favorite dessert. Her favorite pink dessert. Her tongue moved in ways that made Mira forget the world, the room, her own name.
Mira moaned louder, tugging at Jerry's hair. "P-Please… I… can't…"
Still, Jerry didn't stop. Her hands held Mira firm, lips and tongue dancing between pleasure and worship, drowning in the taste of the woman she loved.
Mira's legs shook, her voice barely a whisper now. "I… I said stop…"
Jerry looked up with a grin that could melt steel. "Too sweet to stop."
Then she went back down, hungrier.
And Mira knew—she had no escape. She didn't want one.