Elena tried to pretend the text didn't exist.
She spent the whole weekend in Mia's apartment—naked most of the time, legs spread, mouth full, pussy aching in the best way. They fucked on the kitchen counter (Elena bent over it, Mia's fingers inside her while she tried to make coffee), in the shower (Elena on her knees, water cascading down her back while she ate Mia out until her jaw hurt), on the couch (tribbing slow and filthy, clit to clit, grinding until they both came shaking and soaked).
Mia was insatiable. She'd wake Elena up at 3 a.m. with her tongue, or pin her wrists to the bed and ride her face until she came twice. Elena had never been so constantly wet in her life. Her thighs were sore, her nipples tender from Mia's teeth, her pussy swollen and hypersensitive—but every time Mia looked at her with that dark, hungry stare, Elena opened for her again.
Sunday night they were in bed, Elena on top, riding Mia's thigh slow and deep while Mia's fingers played with her clit.
"You're so fucking greedy," Mia panted, watching Elena's tits bounce. "Look at you—dripping all over me again."
Elena moaned, grinding harder. "Can't help it. You make me like this."
Mia's free hand slapped her ass lightly, then squeezed. "Come on my thigh. Want to feel you soak me."
Elena did—shuddering, whimpering, leaving a shiny mess on Mia's skin.
Afterward, while they were catching their breath, Elena's phone lit up on the dresser again.
Claire: Please, Elena. Just one coffee. I fucked up. I know that now.
Mia saw the name flash before Elena could hide it.
Her body went still.
"Who's Claire?"
Elena's heart slammed. "My ex."
Mia's jaw tightened. She sat up, eyes sharp. "The one who left you?"
"Yeah."
"And she's texting you now?"
Elena nodded, throat tight.
Mia's hand slid possessively between Elena's legs, cupping her still-throbbing pussy. "You still want her?"
"No," Elena breathed. But her voice shook.
Mia's fingers slid inside her again—slow, deliberate, claiming. "You sure? Because you just got wetter when you said her name."
Elena whimpered, hips rocking despite herself.
Mia leaned in, voice low and dangerous against her ear. "If she touches you again, I'll make sure you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to now."
She fucked Elena hard then—four fingers stretching her, thumb brutal on her clit, until Elena came screaming, squirting for the first time in her life, soaking the sheets and Mia's wrist.
When she finally stopped shaking, Mia kissed her forehead, almost tender.
"Text her back," she said softly. "Tell her you're busy. Or don't. But if you meet her… I want to know every detail."
Elena's stomach flipped with equal parts fear and filthy arousal.
She texted Claire: I'm seeing someone.
Claire's reply came instantly: Who?
Elena looked at Mia—naked, marked with hickeys, fingers still shiny with her cum—and typed:
Someone who fucks me better than you ever did.
She hit send, dropped the phone, and crawled back into Mia's lap.
"Show me again," she whispered. "Make me forget her name."
Mia's smile was pure sin.
She flipped Elena onto her stomach, spread her cheeks, and licked her from clit to asshole in one long, filthy stroke.
"Gladly."