The engagement party roared with laughter, light, and music—but Mira's world slowed to silence the moment she saw it.
A photo.
Just one photo.
On her phone.
Sent from an unknown number.
Jerry, drunk, wrapped in the arms of a beautiful woman.
Her head against Jerry's chest.
Jerry's hand on her waist.
The background—definitely not recent.
Mira's hand froze mid-air, champagne glass trembling slightly.
Her heart twisted.
She looked across the room—Jerry was laughing, teasing her grandfather, charming a group of old guests like a pro.
That stupid, sexy half-smile on her lips.
But Mira's eyes narrowed. Something about the photo…
She turned to leave the party quietly. Her heels clicking down the hallway like thunder in her ears.
She needed answers.
The room fell into silence as Mira pushed Jerry inside and slammed the door behind them. Everyone outside had clapped and cheered like Jerry was Mira's prize—but right now, Mira didn't feel victorious. Her phone was still in her hand, still showing that photo. That one damn photo.
Jerry turned slowly, sensing the storm in Mira's eyes.
"What is this?" Mira asked, her voice low and sharp. "Tell me now."
Jerry didn't flinch. Her eyes moved from the phone to Mira's face, then she looked away. "You really want to know?"
"I wouldn't be standing here with fire in my lungs if I didn't," Mira snapped.
Jerry sighed and stepped toward the window, folding her arms. Her voice was steady but cold—like it had been buried deep inside her for years.
"I was just twelve," she said. "My parents were gone, and I was dumped with a caretaker who didn't care much for kids. She chose a therapist for me… someone she said could 'handle girls like me.'"
Mira blinked. "What do you mean…?"
"She wasn't helping me," Jerry said, jaw clenching. "She was using me."
Mira's breath caught.
"She saw her ex-boyfriend in me," Jerry continued. "She even told me that. Said I reminded her of him. One night, she gave me a gift—just like the one you gave me last night."
Mira froze, lips parting slightly. Jerry looked over her shoulder with haunted eyes.
"She said she wanted me to use it. On her," Jerry said. "She said I could choose—either use the toy on her, or she'd use me the other way. I chose the toy."
Mira's heart shattered, but she didn't speak. She just listened.
"She never touched me herself," Jerry added. "She didn't want my body. She wanted my touch. She wanted to pretend… like I was someone else."
Jerry exhaled slowly, like it was the first time she'd ever said it out loud.
"She asked me for… 'moments.' Said she missed being loved. I was twelve, Mira. I didn't understand half of what she said. But I knew fear. I gave her what she wanted—just enough to make it through. I followed her rules until I turned eighteen. And then… I ran."
Mira slowly walked toward her, eyes softening with each step. "Jerry…"
"I never let her do anything else," Jerry said firmly. "I never let her own me. I survived. That picture—it's the last one she took. She told me I looked 'just like him' that day. I hated it. I hated her."
Mira's hands gently cupped Jerry's face. "You were just a kid…"
"I was," Jerry whispered. "But I made it out. Alone."
A tear slipped down Mira's cheek. She leaned in and kissed Jerry's forehead, voice trembling but proud. "You didn't just survive. You fought. You're the strongest person I've ever met."
Jerry closed her eyes, breathing Mira in. "You're not scared of me now?"
Mira shook her head. "I'm scared for you. For how long you carried this alone."
Jerry smiled sadly. "So… you still want to marry me?"
Mira scoffed through her tears. "Marry you? Babe, I wanna claim you, crown you, worship you. No past is big enough to scare me off."
Jerry chuckled softly. "You really are crazy for me, huh?"
Mira smirked, wrapping her arms around her. "Madly."
Jerry leaned closer, voice lower now. "And you're mine. Forever."
Mira looked up and said, "Now that you've shared your truth… you're even more beautiful to me."
Jerry's hand slid down Mira's spine as she pulled her close. The silence in the room was thick with emotion—but underneath it, there was something else now.
Heat.
Raw, slow-burning heat.
"You still want to marry me?" Jerry asked again, voice low, lips brushing Mira's ear now.
Mira tilted her head, her smile deadly and sultry. "No."
Jerry blinked.
Mira leaned in, eyes glinting. "I want to own you. I want to burn with you. I want every version of you—past, present, future. You're mine, Jerry Kingston. Tonight, tomorrow, forever."
That was it.
Jerry didn't wait. She grabbed Mira by the waist and spun her onto the bed, her eyes darker than the storm outside. "You don't get to say things like that and look like this in a silk robe, baby."
Mira smirked, legs parting slightly. "Then do something about it."
Jerry crashed her lips onto Mira's, devouring her like she'd been starving for years. The kiss was fire and desperation, passion and promise. Mira's hands tugged Jerry's shirt, fingers trailing over her abs, pulling it off with force.
Black sports bra. That toned, scarred, beautiful body.
Mira kissed every inch.
"You're glowing," she whispered. "You're mine."
Jerry growled, lifting her with one arm and flipping her easily, silk robe sliding off Mira's shoulders, exposing her glowing skin. "Look at you," Jerry whispered against her neck. "All ready for me."
Mira moaned as Jerry kissed down her throat, teeth grazing her collarbone, sucking gently until a fresh mark bloomed on her chest.
"Still mad at me?" Jerry teased, hands trailing down Mira's sides.
Mira arched. "Mad? No. Wet? Absolutely."
Jerry chuckled darkly. "Let me fix that."
Her mouth moved lower, her hands spreading Mira's thighs slowly, reverently. Her breath ghosted over Mira's most sensitive skin, and Mira gasped, hips twitching.
"Say it," Jerry said, voice raw. "Say you want me."
"I want you," Mira breathed. "All of you. Now."
Jerry didn't waste another second. Her tongue slid between Mira's folds, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles. Mira's moans echoed in the room, her fingers tangled in Jerry's short wolf-cut hair, tugging, begging for more.
"Jerry—God—yes—" Mira cried.
Jerry's pace increased, mouth claiming every moan, every twitch. One arm wrapped around Mira's thigh, holding her steady, while her other hand slid up, fingers tangling with Mira's.
Power. Passion. Ownership.
Mira shattered with a scream, legs trembling around Jerry's head. But Jerry wasn't done.
She looked up, lips wet, smirking. "Think I'm letting you go with just one?"
"Holy hell," Mira groaned. "Marry me already."
Jerry crawled up Mira's body, her hand cradling Mira's flushed cheek. "I will. But first—" she kissed her again, slower, deeper "—I need to memorize how you taste when you say my name."
Mira pulled her close, whispering against her lips, "Then don't stop until it's tattooed in your soul."
Mira lay breathless beneath her, cheeks flushed, the silk robe long discarded on the floor. Her fingers lazily traced the marks down Jerry's back—the ones she'd made last night. Every scratch whispered mine, every bruise a brand of devotion.
Jerry leaned over, breath brushing against Mira's ear, lips curling into a dark smirk. Then, with deliberate, teasing slowness, she brought her hands to the waistband of her pants.
"You wore it the whole time?" Mira asked, eyes narrowing as Jerry began to unzip.
Jerry didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood, slipped out of her pants, and revealed it—the sleek black toy Mira had gifted her the night before. Perfectly strapped in place. A promise. A threat. A delicious memory.
"You really are evil," Mira said, her voice husky.
Jerry's eyes gleamed as she stepped closer. "And you, baby," she growled, "are mine."
Mira sat up slightly, grabbed Jerry's shirt collar, and yanked her down until their foreheads met. "Then claim me," she whispered, lips brushing Jerry's.
Jerry let out a low groan. "Gladly."
She positioned herself, letting the tip of the toy glide against Mira's dripping folds. Mira's thighs trembled. She bucked her hips, but Jerry held her down with one hand, teasing, letting the anticipation burn.
"You like the gift, hmm?" Jerry murmured.
Mira bit her lip. "Use it already. I need to feel you."
That was all Jerry needed. She slowly slid the toy inside Mira, inch by aching inch. Mira moaned loudly, nails digging into Jerry's back.
"F-Fuck... Jerry!"
Jerry pressed her forehead against Mira's. "You feel incredible," she whispered, starting to move, deep and slow at first.
Every thrust was filled with need, every grind deeper, rougher, hotter. Mira wrapped her arms and legs around Jerry, pulling her closer, desperate for more.
Their moans tangled together, the sound of slick skin and whispered curses filling the room.
"I'm gonna ruin you, Mira," Jerry groaned.
"Then ruin me," Mira gasped, her eyes rolling back.
Jerry picked up the pace, sweat dripping down her temple. The toy filled Mira perfectly, stretching her just right. And when Mira came undone, shaking under her, Jerry kept going, chasing her own high, never breaking eye contact.
After Mira's third climax, Jerry finally slowed, pulling her into a kiss—tender, messy, perfect.
As they collapsed together, tangled in sheets and heat, Mira giggled softly. "You wore that toy like it was part of you."
Jerry kissed her forehead. "Because it is—when it's for you."