Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away. "No. I don't want to see."
"That's too bad," I whispered, leaning down to bite the sensitive cord of her neck. "Because years ago, you didn't have a choice. Hundreds of people watched you in person and thousands more online, and you couldn't look away. Tonight,youare the one watching."
I moved my hands lower.
The reflection showed everything from the disarray of her hair to her flushed chest and the dark peaks of her nipples. I was captivated by the way her stomach still quivered with the aftershocks of the cramps.
It also showed my hands. My dark, stained hands contrasted violently against her pale skin, sliding down over her hips.
"Look at yourself, Tessa," I demanded, watching her reflection. "Open your damn eyes."
She flinched, a sob catching in her throat, but she obeyed. Her grey eyes flew open in the glass, meeting mine.
"What do you see?" I asked, sliding my hands between her thighs.
"A mess," she choked out, tears spilling over. "I see a mess. I see... leakage. I see Graduation Girl."
"Wrong," I growled.
I kicked her feet apart, forcing her stance wider. I pressed my hips firmly against her buttocks, letting her feel the hard,undeniable ridge of my erection through my jeans. I wanted there to be no ambiguity about what was happening.
"I see a composition," I murmured, my eyes locking onto hers in the glass. "I see contrast. Value. Texture."
I slipped my hand into her heat.
In the mirror, the sight was shocking. My ink-stained fingers disappearing into the slick, wet reality of her desire. The way her hips jerked forward, disrupting the image, blurring the lines.
"Ah! Simon!" She tried to bury her face in her hands, to hide from the image.
I grabbed her wrists with my free hand and pulled them down, pinning her arms to her sides.
"No hiding," I said, my voice rising, tight with ten years of repressed longing. "We are rewriting the scene, remember? You don't get to look away."
I released her wrist to fumble with my belt. My hands were shaking. I was clumsy, desperate. The sound of the zipper rasping down was the loudest thing in the quiet hallway. I shoved my jeans and boxers down just enough to free myself.
I needed to be inside her. Not with fingers. Not with a stylus. With everything.
“Do you want me to fill you? Do you want my cock inside you, Tessa?” I murmured against her ear.
Her face heated and she nodded.
“Tell me,” I ordered.
“I want you to fuck me,” she replied a little breathlessly as her chest heaved in the mirror.
"Arch your back," I instructed.
"I can't," she whimpered, watching my reflection behind her. "It’s too much. The mirror... it makes it so real."
"That's the point."
I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging in, bruising the soft flesh. I didn't wait. I couldn't wait. I lined myself up with her slick heat, watching the connection point in the mirror.
Bending my knees so I could get the right angle, I thrust forward.
I sank into her in one long, devastating slide.
"Oh, God!" Tessa screamed, her head snapping back, hitting my shoulder.
