That night 3 [M]

Chapter 38: That night final [M]

The motel's paper-thin walls didn't stand a chance. Raina's screams punched through the plaster like fists—loud, raw, impossible to ignore. The whole building could hear her. Mirelle didn't care.

She was too busy wrecking her.

Slamming into her—again, again, again—pinning Raina hard against the wall, using her body like she meant to ruin it.

Raina could barely breathe, barely think. Each thrust knocked the air out of her lungs, each impact made her cry out louder. Her fingernails dug into Mirelle's back, clawing through her shirt, trying to hold on, trying to endure.

But she wanted it. Every brutal second of it.

"Fuck—" Raina gasped. "You're—insufferable—"

Mirelle laughed darkly against her throat.

"Then why are you moaning like that?"

Her teeth sank into Raina's shoulder, biting hard enough to bruise. Not a mark of affection—a warning. Raina yelped, and Mirelle licked the sting like she was proud of it.

"I hate you," Raina hissed, eyes burning.

"Louder," Mirelle responded amused, slamming into her again—harder this time, making her cry out.

"Say it again."

Raina snarled, grabbing Mirelle's jaw, dragging her mouth up to hers. Their lips crashed together—violent, angry, desperate. It wasn't a kiss, it was a battle.

Their teeth clacked. Their noses bumped. It hurt.

Neither of them stopped.

She grabbed Raina's thighs harder, lifting her higher, her rhythm turning punishing. She wanted Raina shaking. Wanted her ruined and breathless and ashamed that she liked it.

"Is this what you wanted?" Mirelle panted.

"To get fucked by someone who hates you?"

Raina's laugh broke on a moan. "Only if it hurts."

"Oh, it will."

She slammed into her again, harder.

Raina let out a sharp gasp as she was set down on the edge of the scratched motel table, her thighs shaking beneath her, too unsteady to pretend she wasn't affected. Her legs barely obeyed her. Her body was buzzing—overstimulated and breathless and still greedy for more.

"Hands on the table," Mirelle ordered, already tugging her own loosened tie from around her neck.

"Bend over."

Raina looked back over her shoulder, every inch of her aching to mouth off—to defy, to bite back. But her body was faster than her words.

She obeyed.

Her palms hit the cold wood, her back arching naturally. Her torn stockings clung to her thighs in shreds, her skirt bunched uselessly around her waist. Her soaked underwear clung to one side, offering no modesty, only invitation. Her dark brown skin glistened in the dim motel light—sweat-kissed and flushed in all the right places. Mirelle paused.

And stared.

She tossed the useless tie away.

"Sometimes," Mirelle said, stepping closer, voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, "when you're up there at those panels, giving speeches filled with half-truths and political garbage—"

She used her foot to nudge Raina's legs further apart, deliberately slow.

"I think about you like this."

Her hands gripped Raina's waist, fingers digging into soft, warm skin—perfectly firm, impossibly real. Mirelle's jaw clenched. She traced her thumbs over the curve of her hips, then dragged one palm down to Raina's backside and slapped it, hard.

Raina flinched, but didn't move.

"I'm not here to hear about your fantasies," Raina spat. Her voice was breathy, low, shaking with need and loathing.

"I'm here for you to fuck me."

Mirelle laughed, breathless and mocking, positioning herself behind Raina again.

"Normally I'd tell you to fuck off," she said, dragging her nails along the curve of Raina's hips. "But I'll let it slide today."

She gripped Raina's waist, fingers biting deep into her skin—and slammed in.

The table screeched against the floorboards.

Raina choked out a sob, the impact ripping the breath from her lungs. Her knuckles turned white as she clawed at the edge of the table for support.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Mirelle hissed through clenched teeth. Her hips snapped forward in fast, brutal thrusts, her pace merciless. "Isn't it?"

"Yes!" Raina cried out. "Yes! Harder—harder!"

Mirelle froze for a second—completely stunned.

The sound of Raina begging like that, gasping for more, her voice wrecked and shaking—it did something to her.

It was unholy.

It was perfect.

She tightened her grip, her rhythm growing even more aggressive. The sounds filling the room were obscene—skin on skin, the slap of motion, the wetness between them, the table groaning beneath the force of it all.

"Ahhh—are you—are you getting bigger?!" Raina screamed, head falling forward. Her voice cracked under the strain. Mirelle was already stretching her, already overwhelming her, but with every thrust, it felt like more. Like she was being carved open and filled in the same motion.

Her eyes rolled back.

She gripped the table like it could anchor her, but it moved, scraped forward under her weight, unable to hold still under Mirelle's punishing pace.

"You said you wanted to forget about this night?" Mirelle asked darkly, her voice like thunder behind her.

SLAM.

"I'll make sure you never do. Every single man that comes after me—"

SLAM.

"—you'll remember this."

SLAM.

"Forever."

Raina's scream cracked into silence, her mouth open, nothing coming out now but air and helpless gasps.

Mirelle leaned over her, her chest pressing against Raina's back, her breath hot and shaking against her ear.

And then—still moving, still relentless—she whispered, "Say my name."

Raina whimpered, eyes glassy. "M-Mirelle—"

"Louder."

"Mirelle!"

"Again."

Raina didn't even try to resist. "Mirelle!"