Mirror Mirror

The suite door clicked shut behind her. Autumn stepped inside, expecting soft music, dim lighting, maybe room service. Instead--her breath caught. The room was nothing but mirrors. Every wall. The ceiling. Even the closet door. A thousand angles. A thousand versions of her and Ryan in every direction. It was dim, yes--soft amber lighting from sconces and a single warm lamp near the bed--but everything shimmered in gold. The air was warm. Still.

At the center of it all: a bed with black silk sheets. And at the foot of the bed, a sleek black box with a satin ribbon tied in a bow.

She turned slowly. "What is this?"

Ryan's voice came from behind her, low and steady. "This is what I've been thinking about for weeks." His eyes didn't leave her. "You. This room. And every second of what I'm about to do to you--reflected back a thousand times."

Her mouth went dry. He walked past her, stopped at the bed, and untied the ribbon. Inside the box: jet-black lingerie--delicate lace, barely-there. Open-cup bra. High-cut thong. Thin-strapped garter belt. Silk stockings that shimmered in the low light. And beneath them: heels. Strappy, spiked, shiny. Absolutely lethal. Autumn stared.

"You bought all this?"

Ryan nodded once, stepping up behind her. His fingers found the hem of her dress and slowly peeled it up her body. "I want you in nothing but this. And then I want you to see yourself through my eyes."

His voice dropped. "Get dressed. Slowly."

She obeyed. With trembling hands, she slid the stockings up first--one leg at a time--feeling Ryan's eyes dragging over every exposed inch. The garter belt followed, wrapping around her waist like a black velvet ribbon. The bra cupped nothing--just lace framing her breasts, her nipples peeking through like an invitation.

Then the thong. More string than anything. Black. High-waisted. Barely a whisper of coverage. Heels last. When she turned around to face him, she felt the blush rise all the way from her chest to her ears. Ryan looked like a man starved.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, palms on his thighs. "Come here."

She stepped closer. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor, hips swaying with each step, reflections multiplying all around them. Her own image surrounded her--eyes wide, lips parted, body trembling under silk and lace.

She stopped in front of him.

"Kneel."

She did. Slowly. Gracefully. The mirrors above and behind showed every angle--her knees between his, her hands on his thighs, her gaze tilted up into his.

Ryan cupped her face. His thumb brushed her lip. "Do you see yourself?"

She nodded, breathless.

"You have no idea what you do to me."

He freed himself from his jeans--thick, hard, already leaking for her. Her mouth watered. She leaned forward, and with his hand behind her head, she took him in slowly. Her lips wrapped around the head first, then more, deeper, wet heat surrounding him.

"Eyes on the mirror," he said roughly. "I want you to watch how good you are."

She did. Watched her cheeks hollow, her lips shine, her hands stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. Ryan's breath came heavier. His fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her with just enough pressure.

"Good girl," he growled. "So fucking good at this. My perfect little ruin."

She moaned around him, and he pulled out, standing suddenly and hauling her up by the waist. He kissed her hard--filthy, consuming--his hands everywhere at once.

"You think I can hold back tonight?" he whispered. "Not when you look like this. Not when I've waited this long."

He turned her toward the bed and bent her over it--one knee on the mattress, the other foot grounded in her heels, back arched, breasts pushing forward in the lace. Her eyes met his in the mirror. Her own. Dozens of them. Ryan stood behind her. Watching her. Watching himself. One hand on her hip, the other tracing the line of her thong before yanking it aside and dragging his fingers through the slick heat between her thighs.

"So wet for me already," he murmured. "This little outfit got you worked up? Or is it the idea of being fucked while every wall shows you just how desperate you are for it?"

She whimpered. Then he slid into her--slow, deep, filling her until her knees nearly gave.

"Eyes up, baby."

She gasped, her reflection meeting her again. Her mouth parted, lashes fluttering, chest rising and falling with every pant. Behind her--Ryan, hips grinding, muscles tight, face flushed. He started moving. Hard. Deep. Controlled. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place as he drove into her again and again, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Autumn braced herself on the bedframe, moaning helplessly.

"Look at yourself," he panted. "Watch the way your body takes me. How you bounce on my cock like you were made for it."

She was falling apart. Each thrust shoved her closer. His other hand slipped down between her thighs, rubbing tight circles on her clit while he stayed buried inside her.

"You see that face?" he growled in her ear. "That's the face you make only for me."

"I--I'm gonna--Ryan--"

"Come," he ordered, his voice wrecked. "Do it. I want to watch your legs shake. I want to watch your body give out while I keep fucking you through it."

She came hard. Loud. Desperate. Her thighs trembled, her arms collapsed beneath her, face turned to the mirror as wave after wave slammed through her. But he didn't stop. He flipped her over onto the bed--hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lingerie twisted--and climbed on top of her. Her heels stayed on. Her stockings were still perfect. And then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed inside her again. Slower now. More worship than possession. His forehead pressed to hers.

"You are the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen," he whispered. "And I'm going to keep showing you until you believe it."

Autumn's body was still trembling from her orgasm--nerves lit up, thighs quivering, lips kiss-bruised and parted as she tried to catch her breath. Ryan leaned over her, chest rising and falling, arms bracketing either side of her head as he kissed her again--slow and deep, tongue stroking hers, unhurried now. Like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his voice was low, ragged, reverent.

"Still with me?"

She nodded, dazed. "Barely."

His grin was wicked. "Good. Let's see how far we can push that."

He slid out of her slowly, groaning at the wet sound of her body releasing him. Then he sat back, resting against the headboard, legs spread wide, his cock still hard and gleaming, glistening with her slick.

"Come here."

She crawled to him, eyes wide, still dizzy from everything he'd already done. He reached for her waist and guided her into his lap, straddling him, one knee on either side of his hips. Her heels clacked faintly against the wood as she adjusted herself, her stockings brushing his thighs.

His hands roamed--over her hips, her back, her breasts framed perfectly by lace. His eyes never left hers.

"I want you to ride me."

Her breath hitched.

"But not just for me," he added, dragging her down until the head of his cock brushed her entrance, "--for you. I want you to watch yourself ride me. I want you to see exactly what I see every time you fall apart in my hands."

He turned her head toward the full-length mirror at the side of the bed. There she was.

Straddling him. Hair messy. Body flushed and marked and trembling, still dressed in torn, twisted lingerie and mile-high heels. Nipples hard under sheer lace. Ryan's hands on her hips. His cock buried between her thighs. She looked... wrecked. And glorious.

"You ready?"

Her eyes flicked to the mirror. "Yes."

He helped her lower herself slowly--inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside her. She moaned loud at the stretch, the way her walls clenched down around him, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

Ryan gritted his teeth. "Fuck, baby... You feel like heaven."

She started to move.

At first, slow and shaky--small rolls of her hips, hands gripping his chest, thighs trembling from everything he'd already wrung out of her. But he didn't rush her. He let her find it. Let her grind on him exactly how she needed, guiding her with soft moans and low praise.

"That's it," he whispered. "You're doing so good."

Her eyes found the mirror again, and she gasped. Watching herself ride him--watching his cock disappear inside her, over and over--watching the way her breasts bounced, her back arched, her mouth hung open in silent desperation--

It was too much. And not enough. Ryan slid one hand between them, thumbing her clit gently while the other came up to palm her breast, rolling her nipple through lace.

"Look at you," he groaned. "Fucking made for this. Made to ride me. Made to come like this."

Her pace quickened. Every bounce sent her moaning, her ass slapping softly against his thighs, her voice going high and broken as her orgasm built again.

"You gonna give me one more?" he murmured, fingers working faster, cock thick and twitching inside her. "You gonna come while you're watching yourself fall apart for me?"

"God, Ryan--"

"Let go, baby. Show yourself what I see."

She came with a cry, head thrown back, body clenching tight around him as her vision blurred and her entire body trembled. She tried to keep her eyes on the mirror but her lashes fluttered, breath catching in her throat as he fucked her through it from beneath--rolling his hips up, never stopping.

He was close now. She could feel it. The way his grip tightened. The way his voice cracked as he cursed against her throat.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he growled. "Gonna come so deep in you, you'll still feel it tomorrow."

"Yes," she whimpered, desperate and aching for it. "Do it--please--"

He gripped her ass with both hands, slammed up into her one final time, and groaned as he came--hot and hard, pulsing deep inside her while he held her close, his whole body shuddering from the force of it.

They stayed like that. Breathless. Tangled. Her head resting on his shoulder, his hands smoothing over her back, her thighs twitching with aftershocks. Their reflections still watched them. A picture of ruin and reverence. Of worship and wreckage.

Ryan pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered, "You should see what I see right now."

She smiled against his skin, exhausted and blissed out.

"I just did."

Her body still hummed, legs weak and trembling as Ryan helped her off his lap. Her hair clung to her damp skin, her lips kiss-bruised and parted, breath catching with every step. She thought maybe they'd collapse into bed, let sleep take them, all tangled and satisfied. But Ryan had other plans. He scooped her up without a word--one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She let out a soft, surprised sound and buried her face against his chest, too spent to protest.

The bathroom light clicked on. Marble floors. Warm underfoot. Steamed-up mirrors lining the vanity. Dim lighting glinting off chrome and porcelain. Everything sleek, clean, quiet. Ryan set her gently on the counter. She blinked at her reflection in the wide mirror behind her. Makeup smudged. Hair a mess. Lips swollen. Lace lingerie askew--one stocking rolled halfway down her thigh, bra straps slipping off her shoulders, her thong still pushed to the side. She looked absolutely, gloriously ruined.

And Ryan looked like he was thanking God for it. He kissed her knee. Then the inside of her thigh. Then lower.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, voice still hoarse.

"Taking my time," he murmured against her skin. "One more. Just one."

"I don't think I can--"

"You can." He looked up at her, eyes dark and reverent. "You will."

He spread her legs gently, his fingers teasing along the sensitive inside of her thighs, ghosting over skin that was already so overstimulated she twitched.

"Eyes on the mirror, baby."

She met her own gaze--barely. Then his mouth met her. It started with a kiss. Just his lips, soft and reverent, brushing over her swollen clit like a prayer. Then his tongue--flat, slow, devouring. She gasped, hips twitching, her hand flying back to brace herself on the counter as her head fell back.

"No," he said softly, lips still pressed to her. "Watch."

She forced her eyes open again.

The sight nearly undid her. Ryan, on his knees, between her spread legs. Hands gripping her thighs. Eyes closed in pure focus. Tongue working in slow, wet strokes that made her legs tremble. Her hips rolled without permission. Her lips parted with another moan.

"Fuck--Ryan--"

He groaned against her, the vibration sending sparks straight through her core. He started sucking now--light, rhythmic, his tongue circling her in time with each pull. One hand slid down, slipped between her folds, and pushed inside her--just two fingers, slow and deep.

Her whole body jolted. And she watched it all. Her hips arching off the counter. Her chest heaving, breasts bouncing softly with every shake of her body. Her legs trembling, heels still on, feet slipping on the cool marble. And Ryan--absolutely wrecking her with his mouth like it was a sacred ritual.

"Oh my God," she whimpered. "Please--please don't stop--"

He didn't. He just pressed in harder, tongue faster now, fingers curling up against her g-spot until her vision blurred and her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

"Come on, baby," he said, voice low and wrecked between her thighs. "Give it to me. Right here. Show me what you look like when you fall apart just for my mouth."

She shattered. Hands fisting in his hair, hips jerking forward, thighs clamping around his head as she came hard and messy on his tongue, watching her own body lose control in real time. Her moans echoed off the bathroom walls, ragged and broken and beautiful. Ryan didn't let up until she was shaking--literally trembling, gasping for breath, tears brimming in her lashes from the intensity of it.

Then--finally--he stood. Her slick glistened on his mouth, on his chin, and he kissed her like he couldn't get enough, letting her taste herself on his lips.

"You should see yourself right now," he whispered against her mouth. "Most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen."

She barely had the strength to smile. But she did.

"Now will you let me sleep?" she breathed, giggling a little.

He smirked. "Only if you sleep naked. In my arms. And ready for round four in the morning."

********

Autumn lay curled in the sheets, flushed and boneless, her body humming with satisfaction. Her eyes were half-lidded, her chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of calm after chaos. Ryan kissed her shoulder and pulled away gently.

"I'll be right back," he murmured.

She caught his wrist, barely lifting her hand from the covers. "You're not leaving, are you?"

His heart softened at the sleepy panic in her voice.

"Never. Just a bath, baby. I want you to soak. Rest. Let me take care of everything."

She blinked at him, then nodded, and let him go. He moved through the suite quietly, dimming the lights as he stepped into the large en-suite bathroom. The tub was deep, sleek, a perfect oval of polished stone. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right--hot enough to relax her muscles, not too much to sting her skin. Then he added the oil he'd bought on a whim that afternoon--something subtle and floral, jasmine and vanilla, designed to soothe. He scattered a few candles from the counter across the ledge of the tub and lit them, letting their flickering glow soften the space.

By the time he came back to the bedroom, the room was bathed in warm light and low shadows.

"Come on," he whispered, crouching beside her. "Bath's ready."

She stirred slowly, letting him pull the covers back. He helped her sit up, steadying her when she swayed a little. She was still bare, her skin flushed and marked from where he'd kissed and touched and held her. But there was no embarrassment in her eyes now. Just a soft trust. He helped her to her feet and guided her into the bathroom, letting her settle into the water slowly. She sank in with a small sigh, head falling back, the scent of jasmine wrapping around her like a blanket.

Ryan knelt beside the tub and kissed her damp shoulder once.

"You want me to stay?"

She looked at him for a long moment. "No... I think I just want a minute. That okay?"

"Of course." He smiled, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. "I'll be in the other room. Yell if you need anything."

He stepped out, letting the door close halfway behind him. Back in the bedroom, he moved on instinct.

He picked up the scattered pieces of lace and silk she'd stripped off earlier, folding them carefully and setting them aside. He wiped down the vanity mirror, straightened the bedding, put away his belt, the heels, her necklace. Then he ordered room service--something light and comforting. Warm bread, fresh fruit, lemon water, and her favorite chocolate mousse. The candles still glowed softly. When he heard the water start to drain, he returned with a towel already warmed and waiting. She was standing in the tub, slick and glowing and completely undone.

He didn't stare. Just stepped forward and wrapped her in the towel, hands moving gently, drying her skin like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"Didn't even realize how much I needed that," she whispered, leaning into him.

"I did," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He carried her back to bed--again--this time tucking her in like she was royalty. The food was waiting. The lights low. Everything just as it should be. And then he climbed in beside her, resting on his side, one arm tucked behind his head, the other around her waist, his fingers drawing soft shapes over her stomach.

She reached back for his hand and laced their fingers together. Nothing else needed to be said.