#dirtymirror

The room was too quiet. Too soft. Too staged.

Golden lamplight bathed the hotel suite in a warm hush, casting shadows across cream-colored walls and the large full-length mirror that stood directly across from the edge of the bed. You didn’t remember why you were here. You didn’t remember how the night had started. But you remembered the look in Leon’s eyes when he’d told you to sit on the edge and keep your eyes forward.

He was behind you now. Fully clothed.

Your shirt had been discarded somewhere across the room. Your thighs were spread wide, bare to the cool air, cunt soaked and flushed under his stare. The mirror made everything worse — or maybe better — depending on whether you liked seeing your own face wrung tight with need and confusion while his gloved hands caressed up your sides with slow, controlling ease.

“You see yourself?” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whispered, throat dry.

“You look nervous.”

“I—” You blinked. “I don’t know what this is.”

He chuckled. A quiet, pleased sound. His fingers slid down to your waist, holding you in place as he pressed his body flush to your back. You could see the bulge in his pants, hard against the curve of your ass. Could see your own reflection tremble.

“This is just observation,” he said. “I want you to watch.”

He guided your hand between your thighs. “Touch yourself.”

“Leon—”

“Do it.”

You obeyed, fingers sliding through the slick mess he’d teased out of you earlier, your breath hitching as you circled your clit. The mirror showed everything — the flush rising across your chest, the way your mouth fell open. His hands stayed at your waist, possessive. He didn’t even need to touch you yet. You were already unravelling for him.

And then, without warning, he shoved your hand away.

“Too slow.”

He unzipped his pants, and the sound made your thighs twitch. His cock was thick, flushed, already leaking. You didn’t look away from the mirror as he stroked it lazily behind you, lining himself up.

“I want you to see what you look like,” he said, tone flat. Dangerous. “When I fuck the sanity out of you.”

And then he slammed in.

“Ahh—fuck!”

Your cry echoed off the walls, hands scrabbling at the sheets as his cock drove into your soaked cunt, stretching you open in one brutal thrust. Your eyes snapped to the mirror, watching your own body jolt, mouth dropped open, Leon’s smirk ghosting behind you.

He gripped your hips hard, dragging you back onto him with a growl, thrusts deep and punishing, timed to your every whimper.

Schlk—schlk—slap—

The mirror didn’t miss a thing. Your tits bounced with each thrust. Your thighs trembled. Your eyes glazed.

“You watching?” he rasped. “You see how fuckin’ pretty you look when you’re used?”

You whimpered. He reached up, grabbing your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“No looking away,” he growled. “You need to see it.”

He fucked you harder now, each thrust designed to force your reflection to fall apart. His cock slammed into your g-spot over and over, the stretch perfect, overwhelming. Your moans turned broken, legs shaking, slick gushing down your thighs, your cunt soaked and messy as he used you.

“L-Leon—gonna—!”

“Look at yourself.”

He wrapped his fingers around your throat. You choked on a cry, vision dimming, and in the mirror, you saw it — saw the way your body writhed on his cock, how your mouth begged silently, how ruined you looked.

And then you came. Hard.

Your cunt spasmed, milking him, and he fucked you through it with a growl, watching your body break.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna fill you—gonna make you watch yourself drip with me.”

He came with a low moan, cock pulsing deep inside as he pumped you full of cum, holding you against him, watching as it spilled out around his cock in the mirror.

Your head dropped, body trembling. But he didn’t let you look away.