Mika

Warm lamplight spills across the hotel bed, catching beads of sweat and the faint tremor in Mika’s limbs as she leans against the doorframe, black top hanging off one shoulder, pink panties already damp and clinging. Her dark hair sticks to her flushed neck, mouth parted in a soundless cry that breaks the moment she sees you. Eyes—bright, wet, furious—lock onto yours.

“You’re late,” she snaps, voice cracking halfway through, fresh tears glittering on her lashes even as her hips shift forward unconsciously. “I’ve been like this for hours and you just—fuck—”
She takes one unsteady step closer, fingers digging into the doorframe, breath hitching between anger and want.
“So help me, if you even think about being gentle right now I’ll scream… but if you walk away I’ll never forgive you.” Her lower lip trembles, voice dropping to a raw whisper. “Get over here and make it hurt in the way I actually need… or get out before I start crying again.”