It was a busy Monday morning after a weekend that still left Mira's body tingling with memory. The apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee and the pages of scattered paperwork. The golden rays of sunlight poured in through the windows, catching on the silver ring wrapped snugly around Mira's finger—the one Jerry had given her. Her eyes softened, a soft blush dusting her cheeks as she twisted it gently, remembering the weekend's heated promises and kisses whispered against skin.
Across from her, Jerry sat with one leg crossed over the other, brows furrowed slightly as she flipped through files. Her black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, silver watch gleaming on her wrist, collar open just enough to show a hint of that pale, toned collarbone Mira had kissed more times than she could count.
Her dark hair was slightly tousled, lips slightly pursed in thought, and her expression sharp—like a hero from a perfectly written fiction novel. Mira stared at her, completely taken. How could someone look this strong, serious, handsome… and still so painfully adorable when she muttered things to herself under her breath?
"Stop staring," Jerry murmured without looking up.
Mira jolted, flustered. "I wasn't!"
"You always do when I wear this shirt," Jerry teased, finally glancing at her with that boyish smirk that made Mira's stomach flip.
"You should be arrested," Mira mumbled. "It should be illegal to be this distracting on a Monday."
Jerry chuckled and went back to the papers. "Then you'd be single, sweetheart."
That made Mira pout.
By evening, the mood had changed. Mira was getting dressed for a business event—a mandatory meet-up with several investors and collaborators. Normally she'd be confident, composed. But tonight… she was annoyed. And jealous.
Because her wife was going with her.
And every damn partner attending the meeting was a woman.
Mira stared into the mirror as she applied her lipstick, the tension in her brows refusing to relax. "Why does she have to be this handsome?" she muttered to herself.
Jerry walked past the bathroom door in a dark grey suit that hugged her frame too well. The crisp white shirt underneath, the loose tie, the casual way she tucked her hand in her pocket—Mira nearly melted.
Jerry peeked in. "You okay, babe?"
"No," Mira grumbled.
Jerry stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
"You," Mira turned, arms crossed. "You're too damn attractive. All those women are going to flirt with you tonight."
Jerry blinked. Then smirked. "You jealous, Mrs. Kingston?"
"Of course I'm jealous! Do you know how hard it is to sit through meetings watching women eye-f*** my wife?"
Jerry laughed, and walked over, slipping her arms around Mira's waist. "But I only eye-f*** one person," she whispered into Mira's ear, brushing her lips along her jaw. "And I married her."
Mira's knees went weak. "Still. Try not to look so hot tonight."
"No promises," Jerry grinned, pressing a kiss to Mira's forehead. "But if anyone flirts, I'll just pull you into my lap and kiss you in front of them. That'll shut them up."
Mira blushed hard. "Do that… and I might actually forgive you for being a walking temptation."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Let's go before I change my mind and keep you locked in here."
"I wouldn't complain."
They walked out together, hand in hand. And though Mira still bristled with jealousy every time a woman tried to flirt, it was worth it—because every time she glared, Jerry's hand would tighten around hers, or she'd lean in and whisper, "Don't worry, love. You're the only one who gets dessert."
Mira's heart melted every time.
Mira had only stepped away for a quick restroom break, but her heart was already uneasy.
She glanced back once to check on Jerry, only to freeze at the sight before her.
Jerry was surrounded—three women, all their attention locked onto her like she was a prize they couldn't wait to taste. The first woman had leaned in close, whispering something near Jerry's neck while her fingers boldly trailed up her thigh. The second woman clutched her shoulder, laughing breathily, her touch lingering far too long.
The third one? She just stared at Jerry like she was ready to devour her on the spot.
Mira's stomach twisted.
Jerry stood calm in the center, polite but unreadable. But Mira knew her—knew that tension in her jaw meant she was holding back.
That was enough.
Mira stepped back out, adjusting her dress quickly and putting on a pained expression. "Jerry…"
Jerry instantly turned, brushing the woman's hand off. "Babe?"
"I'm not feeling well," Mira said softly, her voice shaky. She clutched her stomach, pretending discomfort.
The girls tried to hold Jerry's attention. One reached for her wrist again. "Wait—"
Jerry snapped.
She pulled her arm back, her eyes sharp as steel."Back. Off."
Without another word, she ran to Mira, hands on her arms, eyes worried. "What happened?"
"My dress," Mira murmured, lowering her eyes as the wet patch on her top became visible. "I spilled water—"
Jerry didn't hesitate. In one smooth motion, she peeled off her suit shirt, revealing a sleeveless black tank underneath that clung to her muscular frame. Strong arms, broad shoulders, flexing with every move. The room gasped.
She wrapped the shirt around Mira's front and gently pulled her into her arms, bridal-style.
"Let's go, baby."
As Jerry walked past the stunned women, Mira couldn't resist. She tilted her head and slowly brushed her lips against Jerry's neck in front of all of them—deliberately leaving a soft pink mark.
Jerry smirked without missing a beat.
Mira looked over Jerry's shoulder, her eyes meeting those of the women behind them. She raised her brow and gave a subtle smirk of victory as she clutched Jerry tighter.
But it wasn't over yet.
In the parking lot, as Jerry helped Mira settle in the back seat, Mira glanced over her shoulder. Her expression darkened.
"They're following us," she whispered.
Jerry's brows pulled together. "Still?"
"They're watching. Probably waiting to say something. Or worse… flirt again."
Mira took a deep breath, then looked at Jerry with mischief burning in her eyes. "Kiss me," she whispered, her voice low. "On our bond."
Jerry turned slowly to face her. "Your face says 'please,' but your eyes say 'revenge.'"
"Both," Mira said, her hand gripping Jerry's shirt.
Jerry leaned in, slow and firm, grabbing Mira's waist and pressing her against the car door. "Then let's show them who I belong to."
And as lips met lips, Mira melted into Jerry, sighing into the kiss like it was the only language she ever needed to speak.
Their passion was electric. Public or not, this kiss said one thing clearly—Don't even think about touching what's already claimed.
Jerry didn't pull back.
She kissed Mira like she owned her, like the world needed to see it. And Mira… Mira kissed her back like she wanted to be owned.
Her hands curled around Jerry's collar as their lips moved, slow at first—then deeper, hungrier. Every second was a silent challenge to the three women still watching from a distance, eyes wide, jaws dropped.
Jerry's hand slid around Mira's waist, pulling her closer, fingers brushing the curve of her hip.
"You still think I should've let them flirt?" Jerry whispered against her lips, voice teasing, low, dangerous.
Mira smirked. "I was about to throw my heels at them."
Jerry laughed, breath warm. "Guess I should thank you for not committing a felony in heels."
"You still might have to if they follow us home."
"Let them." Jerry's voice dropped as her gaze sharpened. "I'll give them a show they'll never forget."
Mira leaned closer, brushing her lips against Jerry's ear. "But that show's for me. Only me."
Jerry's grin turned into a possessive smirk. "Damn right."
She opened the passenger door and helped Mira inside gently, then walked around to the driver's side. As Jerry slid into the seat, she glanced back once—only to see the girls whispering, flustered, turning away fast.
Good.
The ride home was quiet, charged with tension. Mira's fingers brushed over Jerry's on the gear stick now and then, teasing softly, stealing glances at her profile—the way Jerry's jaw tightened when she was trying to stay calm, the way her forearm flexed with every turn of the wheel.
She was every kind of hot—angry hot, protective hot, jealous hot.
Mira bit her lip.
When they finally parked in front of Jerry's place, Jerry cut the engine and turned to Mira with a lazy smile.
"Still not feeling well?"
"No," Mira murmured, smirking, unbuckling her
seatbelt. "But I'll feel better… if you carry me again."
Jerry leaned back, amused. "So now you're just using your powers of seduction to get bridal lifts?"
"Exactly," Mira purred.
Jerry reached over, grabbed her under her thighs and back in one motion, and hoisted her into her arms. "Careful, baby. Keep teasing me like that and I might forget we're not alone."
Mira rested her head against Jerry's neck, whispering, "No one's watching now…"
Jerry stepped inside the house, closing the door with her foot. The click of the lock echoed behind them.
And just like that, the heat began to rise again.
Jerry shut the door behind them with a soft click, but the atmosphere between them slammed shut with heat. The moment her boots touched the floor, Mira was already tugging at Jerry's collar.
"You're so damn hot when you're angry," Mira murmured against her throat.
Jerry let out a half-laugh, half-growl, her arms tightening around Mira. "And you're trouble when you're jealous."
"Only for you," Mira said sweetly, brushing her lips over Jerry's jaw.
Jerry lowered her to her feet slowly, but didn't step back. Instead, she caged Mira in against the wall, one arm braced beside her head, the other still possessively wrapped around her waist. Mira's body was pressed so closely against her, Jerry could feel every soft curve against the firmness of her own form.
"That girl touched your thigh," Mira whispered.
Jerry's eyes darkened. "And you touched my soul."
Mira blinked, stunned for a second. "You… what?"
Jerry leaned closer, voice rough and soft all at once. "You think I care about some random girl? The only thing I wanted today was to see you in that red dress, sitting beside me, wearing my ring." Her eyes dropped to Mira's hand, fingers curling around her own. "And you did. You were perfect."
Mira's lips parted, her heart pounding again—but not from jealousy now. From love.
She reached up and cupped Jerry's cheek. "You really meant that?"
"I've never meant anything more."
There was a beat of silence before Mira pulled her down into a deep kiss—slow, savoring, like a promise. Jerry groaned softly against her lips, and Mira could feel her walls crumbling.
She pulled back only to whisper, "Take me upstairs. Show me I'm yours."
Jerry didn't hesitate.
With swift strength, she scooped Mira up again, bridal style, and carried her through the hallway and up the stairs, her boots thudding heavily on the floor. Mira curled into her arms, giggling against her neck.
"You love carrying me, huh?" Mira teased.
"I love everything about you," Jerry said simply.
By the time they reached the bedroom, Jerry had kicked the door open and set Mira gently on the bed. The room was filled with warm lighting and soft shadows—the sheets slightly rumpled from the weekend, their shared laughter still lingering in the air.
Jerry took a step back, eyes roaming over Mira like she was memorizing a piece of art. "You look beautiful like this. Mine."
Mira sat up on her knees, fingers toying with the collar of her dress shirt. "Then come claim me."
Jerry moved fast.
In seconds, their mouths collided again, and Mira was on her back with Jerry hovering above her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other caressing her waist with reverent touches. They moved slowly this time—not rushed, not rough. Every kiss was deep. Every touch was a conversation.
"You drive me insane," Jerry breathed, as her lips trailed down Mira's collarbone. "You know that?"
"I hope so," Mira gasped, arching into her.
When Jerry dipped her head lower, her breath warm and teasing on Mira's skin, Mira whispered, "Don't stop."
Jerry didn't. She worshipped her wife's body like a language she could finally speak fluently. Mira's hands clutched at the sheets, at Jerry's hair, at her back—anything she could hold onto to stay grounded as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her.
And when it was over—when Mira was breathless and trembling beneath her—Jerry pulled her close, their foreheads resting together, their hearts racing in unison.
"I love you, wifey," Jerry whispered.
Mira was still dazed, still red-faced, but her arms came up to wrap around Jerry tightly. "I love you more, husband."
They stayed like that for a long moment before finally slipping into the shower together, helping each other wash away the lingering heat. There were playful splashes, stolen kisses, and soft laughter echoing off the tiles.
Later, they dressed and headed downstairs where the scent of evening tea lingered in the air.