I didn't tease Mira anymore.
I eased my finger out of her still-fluttering asshole—slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch of withdrawal until the puffy rim winked shut with a tiny, wet pop. A thin string of her own slick and my precum stretched between us for a heartbeat before snapping.
Mira let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, her whole body sagging against me like the tension had finally drained out of her.
But when she lifted her head, her cheeks were flaming crimson, eyes glassy and annoyed. She rolled them dramatically—classic Mira sass—even as her thighs trembled and fresh wetness glistened on her inner legs.
I smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair off her flushed face.
She tried to stand—quick, determined, like she could escape the embarrassment by sheer willpower—but her knees buckled the second she put weight on them.
