Addicted To You ? [Completed]

The room was bathed in amber light.

A full-length mirror leaned against the far wall, tall and wide, reflecting the deep burgundy bedsheets, the flicker of candlelight and the hunger swimming in Freen's eyes.

Becky stood in front of it, completely bare — her skin glowing, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

Freen stood behind her, still clothed. Black bra. High-waisted jeans. Nothing else. Her fingers traced Becky's spine slowly, almost reverently.

"You're sure?" Freen murmured, eyes locked on Becky's reflection.

Becky nodded. "I want to see what I look like when I come for you."

Freen growled softly, her hand gripping Becky's hip. "Then don't look away."

She turned Becky slightly, nudging her feet apart and bent her forward just enough so that her ass arched beautifully, her breasts swaying, her flushed face reflected perfectly in the mirror.

Becky watched her own lips part as Freen pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, trailing her tongue down her back, until—

She felt the cool touch of lube, then the thick tip of Freen's strap-on, already warmed to body temperature, brushing between her folds.

Becky gasped.

"Eyes on the mirror," Freen said firmly, stepping closer, her body heat wrapping around Becky.

Then — Freen pushed in, slowly, deliciously deep.

Becky moaned, head falling forward.

"No," Freen whispered, tugging gently on her hair, making her look up. "You said you wanted to see."

Becky's eyes fluttered open.

She saw her mouth open in pleasure, saw the way her back arched, saw Freen — flushed and focused — start to thrust into her with purpose.

Each motion echoed in the mirror: Freen's hips moving with power, Becky's body jolting slightly with every deep stroke, skin slapping, wetness slick and loud in the quiet room.

"You're so f*cking beautiful like this," Freen rasped, bending to kiss the back of Becky's neck while never stopping her rhythm.

Becky could barely form words. "I—God—Freen, I'm—"

"I know." Freen's hand slid down, fingers finding Becky's clit. "Come for me while you watch. Look at yourself falling apart."

That did it.

Becky's eyes locked onto her own — pupils blown wide, mouth forming a perfect 'O' — as she shattered, legs shaking, walls clenching around Freen's strap with a cry so loud it echoed.

She watched every second of it.

And Freen kept moving — drawing out her orgasm, slow grinding thrusts that made Becky whimper in overstimulation and pleasure.

When she finally slumped forward, breathless, Freen wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her close, still inside her, both of them watching their tangled reflections slowly still.

"Was it everything you imagined?" Freen whispered against her ear.

Becky smirked, still panting. "No."

Freen stilled. "No?"

Becky turned her head, met Freen's eyes in the mirror. "It was more."

——

Remote Control or rather Freen Control 😉

The brunch was perfectly normal. Sort of.

White tablecloths. Mimosas. Laughing friends. A casual Sunday morning at a chic rooftop café. Except Becky Armstrong was sitting very, very straight. Too straight.

Her knees pressed tightly together, fingers gripping her iced coffee like it might save her soul. Because deep inside her, tucked snug and humming quietly... was a remote-controlled vibrator. And across the table from her — looking infuriatingly calm and casual in a white button-down and sunglasses — was Freen.

The remote? In Freen's hand. Hidden beneath the table.

"Are you okay, Becs?" their friend Nam asked, peering at her with concern.

Becky's smile was too wide. "Yup. Perfect. Just... caffeine hitting hard."

Freen took a bite of her croissant and flicked the remote to level 3.

Becky choked on air. She gripped the edge of her chair, breathing through her nose like a woman trying to survive labor.

"Hot in here, huh?" Freen said, casually sipping her mimosa. "You're sweating."

Becky sent her a death glare. "You're evil."

Freen leaned in, whispering, "And you love it."

Things got worse. Because the waiter — adorable, clueless — brought over their avocado toast with a wink. "Anything else I can get you ladies?" Becky tried to respond but the vibrator chose that moment — that exact moment — to shift gears and go into pulsing mode.

Her whole body jolted. She knocked over her fork. Her voice went up three octaves. "N-n-noooooooo! I mean— I'm good! We're good! Everything's good!"

Freen coughed, trying not to laugh. "Maybe just some water. She's a little flushed." The waiter nodded and walked away.

Becky leaned across the table, whispering through clenched teeth, "I am going to murder you. And then haunt you. Sexually."

Freen pressed a button again.

Becky whimpered.

By the time they stood up to leave, Becky's thighs were shaking and her patience had died somewhere between dessert and the second mimosa. They barely made it to the parking lot.

Freen dragged her into the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut. Before Becky could protest, she straddled her lap.

"Still mad?" Freen asked innocently, pressing her palm against Becky's core where the vibrator still buzzed gently.

Becky grabbed her shirt collar. "You're gonna take this thing out of me and claim me. Now."

Freen grinned. "That's my girl." She reached under Becky's skirt, tugged the toy out slowly — dripping wet — and popped it into her mouth with a wicked moan.

"Mmm. You taste like public disobedience."

Becky's eyes rolled back.

Freen shoved the seat down flat, climbed on top and kissed her hard — rough and messy, teeth clashing, hands everywhere.

This wasn't slow or teasing anymore. This was Becky losing her mind — moaning Freen's name like a prayer in the backseat of a car parked outside a café they could never return to.

When Becky came, screaming and breathless, Freen covered her mouth with a kiss, laughing into it.

"You're still mad?"

Becky blinked up at her, dazed. "I'm buying you five remotes."