GROOVY

The mirror’s been lying to her. Every damn day. Mina leans slightly to the side, inspecting herself in the hallway mirror like it owes her back pay and back shots. Erik’s oversized Black Panther tee clings in all the wrong-right places—draped off one shoulder, the hem teasing the curve of her ass. Her sleep shorts, rolled twice at the waist, are fighting for their lives. The cotton stretches tight around her hips as she cocks one to the side, snapping her gum and squinting like she’s running diagnostics. “You see that?” she mutters, head tilting with just the right amount of attitude. “Tell me this ass ain’t thangin’.”

Across the room, Erik glances up, lounging like royalty—half-draped over the bed in that lazy, cocky sprawl that says I know I own this room. One arm behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. TV on. Volume low. Vibes even lower. The low hum of a sports recap plays in the background, but his eyes are locked on her reflection.

“You talkin’ real spicy for somebody who gotta mount the counter like it’s Everest to get to the cereal,” he drawls, unimpressed, scratching his jaw as he watches her.

Mina whirls around with a hand on her hip, expression pure attitude and audacity. “Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m travel-size and high-efficiency,” she snaps, walking a few steps closer just so he gets a better view.

Erik snorts. “You travelin’ aight. Right to trouble. That mouth oversized for real.”

She arches her back just enough to lift her chest, arms folding beneath her breasts to make them even more impossible to ignore. “I’m just sayin’—if I was really tiny, you wouldn’t act brand new every time I bend over.”

His eyebrow arches. That slow grin—equal parts challenge and threat—spreads across his face like smoke curling under a door. “Keep talkin’, shorty. Let’s see what that reckless lil mouth gets you tonight.”

Mina stands her ground, chin raised. “What? You wanna spank me or somethin’?”

Erik sits forward, elbows on his knees, gaze never leaving hers. The heat in that look rolls like thunder beneath calm skies. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I wanna silence you.”

Her smirk falters. Just for half a second.

He sees the flicker in her throat as she swallows. The air thickens, subtle but charged, static curling in her belly. Tension climbing with each shallow breath.

“Come here.”

Her feet move before she thinks. Step by step, slow and sure, until the space between them disappears. Her breath trembles in her chest.

“What—you tryin’ to admire the gains up close?” she asks, softer now, the humor still there, but thin beneath the weight of him.

He drags his gaze down her body and back up, unhurried. “I wanna see if that mouth can cash all those checks it’s been writing.”

Erik frames her face in both hands, thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks. The heat in his eyes is worship edged with warning. He leans in slow, lips just brushing hers, a breath stealing kiss that never lands. “On your knees,” he murmurs, the sound so low it vibrates in her ribs.

She obeys without blinking, sliding down between his thighs, curls bouncing as she settles. She looks up through fluttering lashes, lips parting instinctively.

He strokes himself—lazy, thick. The soft sound of skin against skin fills the quiet, vulgar and intimate. He presses the head against her lips, no rush, no mercy. “Open.”

When she does, he slides in, just the tip, then more, his hand finding the back of her head, fingers threading through her curls—not shoving, just guiding. Possessive. Like he’s got all night to train her right.

With his free hand, he parts the shirt she’s wearing—his shirt—down the middle, exposing bare skin and nipples tight from anticipation. He groans, low and deep. “Your lil tits drive me crazy, baby. Fuck.”

He toys with her, thumb circling a nipple while her mouth stretches around him. He doesn’t move yet. Just watches her gag a little, then breathe through it, eyes watering as she adjusts.

“There you go. Take me like you mean it. Thought you was thick, right? Handle it.”

Spit glistens on her lips. He begins to fuck her mouth slow, teasing her with filthy praise between thrusts: “Mouth so fuckin’ good. Bet you feel it in your chest, huh?” / “You were made for this.” / “Messy ass mouth… my favorite look on you.”

When she tries to pull back, breathless, he grabs her chin and drags her back down. “Nah. You ain’t done. You got more to prove.”

Drool strings down to her chest. Her eyes water. Her moans wrap around him like velvet, soft and soaked. He taps his tip against her tongue, dick twitching with control. “You talk all that shit—now take all this dick.”

When he finally pulls her off, she’s gasping, soaked in spit, eyes glassy, lips swollen and glistening. He lifts her easily, palms braced under her thighs, walking her to the mirror like she weighs nothing.

“Look. At. Yourself.”

She does. And instantly wishes she hadn’t.

He presses her back to the mirror, legs wrapped tight around his waist. Her reflection shudders with every snap of his hips. The soft slap of skin echoes through the room, broken only by her breathy, staccato gasps.

“You see that? That’s what you earn with that mouth.”

He fucks her harder, watching their reflection like it’s a movie. She claws at his shoulders, fingers digging in. He holds her still—one hand cradling her neck, the other gripping her ass, bouncing her on his dick like it’s punishment.

“Eyes up,” he commands.

She does.

“See how fucked out you look? That’s mine. All of it.”

Sweat slicks her skin. Her legs tremble. Her body locks around him.

“Say it,” he growls into her neck. “Say you small.”

She shakes her head. Still defiant.

“Bet. Then take it. Every last inch. Don’t run now.”

He pounds into her, deep and unrelenting, moaning against her skin. Her body goes limp with overstimulation, nails leaving crescents on his back.

Then he slows. Rolls his hips deep and slow.

“Nobody gets this version of you but me. Nobody.”

He kisses up her jawline, soft now. Gentle. Breathing love into filth.

“This mouth, this body, this pussy… it’s mine. Say it.”

She sobs a moan. “Yours. Yours.”

He holds her like a claim. Like an altar. Like she belongs in his hands.

~

Later, they sink to the floor in silence, bodies tangled. Her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like armor. The world gone still.

He wipes her clean with the hem of his shirt, peppering kisses along her shoulder, thumb brushing where her heartbeat pulses.

“You wild as hell,” he mutters. “Mouth too big for that lil frame.”

She giggles, exhausted. “Still fine though.”

He kisses the side of her neck. “Fine as fuck. Just remember—when you talk your size, you better be ready to take your size.”

She leans into him, breath steady, heart full.

Surrendering. Safe.