Sticky Fingers, Slippery Tongue pt. 2

[Da****]

She didn’t call right away.

Of course she didn’t.

That would’ve been too easy.

Instead, my days passed thick with anticipation, every buzz of my phone was a jolt to the spine, every unknown number a possibility. She stayed in my thoughts like a stolen perfume. Faint, lingering, impossible to wash away. I'd replay the bathroom moment in flashes: her eyes, her voice, her thighs.

But it was four days later when her name finally lit up my screen.

Secret Keeper

I'd named her contact with shaking fingers, an intimate title for an owner. 

I answered on the first ring, breath caught halfway between "hello" and "yes?"

“Good girl,” she purred, and my spine turned to silk.

No questions. No pleasantries. Just command wrapped in sweetness, the kind that melts in your mouth and ruins your sense of control. “You’re going shopping.”

“What for?” I asked, stupidly.

She chuckled. “For me, obviously.”

I didn’t argue.

 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

 

An hour later, I stood in a boutique that made my wallet cry. She’d sent me a list via text; lace, mesh, silk in black and blush, all items I’d never dare wear in public but suddenly couldn’t wait to be seen in… by her.

“Try it on,” she texted. “Don’t pay for it.”

My heart skipped.

She knew me now. She’d seen the thief behind the good girl face, the one who liked soft danger and quiet rebellion. She was feeding it—tempting me deeper.

I slipped into the dressing room with a bundle of delicate nothings and a heart full of adrenaline. The mesh bodysuit hugged me like a secret, sheer in all the right places, dangerous in all the wrong ones.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Camera. Mirror. Show me.

I hesitated. Just a second. Then I angled the mirror, snapped a photo, and hit send. My nipples ***ked through the fabric. My thighs were trembling. My face was flushed.

She replied with a voice message. Not words, just a moan. Low, appreciative, possessive.

“You’ll wear that when you come to me,” her next message read. “But only that.”

 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

 

She sent an address. A hotel, downtown. Private suite. Top floor.

I arrived late on purpose. I was testing her and teasing her. Wanting to see if she’d punish me or ignore the power play entirely.

She opened the door in a robe that screamed luxury and menace, tied just tight enough to hide nothing at all. Her legs were bare. Her eyes were fire. She didn’t greet me.

Instead, she walked a slow circle around me like a predator inspecting her prey.

“You wore it,” she said softly.

I nodded.

“You stole it?”

I licked my lips. “Yes.”

She stepped in. Close. One finger curled beneath the strap of the bodysuit, tugging it off my shoulder like she was unwrapping a gift she wasn’t sure she deserved. Her mouth brushed mine, then missed it on purpose, trailing heat to my ear.

“Naughty girls like you,” she whispered, “don’t get to come without permission.”

Then she kissed me hard. Deep. Like she was claiming my mouth for herself, one stroke of tongue at a time.

When she pulled back, I was breathless. Dripping. Ruined.

She led me to the bed by my throat. Not rough, just enough pressure to remind me where I belonged. She bent me over, made me arch, made me beg.

And when her fingers slid inside me, slow and unforgiving, she murmured in my ear, “Moan for me, baby thief. Let the whole damn hotel know who owns you now.”

I did. Shameless. Loud.

She didn’t stop. Not when I whimpered. Not when I begged. She edged me with surgical precision...pulling back every time I got too close, laughing softly at my frustration like it was her favorite lullaby.

“You’ll get to come,” she said finally, breath hot against my spine.

My whole body trembled.

“When I say. Not a second before.”

And when she finally let me…

I saw stars. Planets. The inside of her heaven.

She held me after. Let me tremble in her arms, sticky and sore and wrecked. She fed me sips of cold water, kissed my cheek like I hadn’t just been her personal plaything.

Then she whispered, “Next time, I’ll steal something from you.”

My breath caught. “What?”

She smiled. Sin incarnate.

“Your innocence. If there’s any left.”