Taken

Heartbreak hits like a bruise. Veronica carries it everywhere. Her red hair still holds the scent of another girl’s perfume, and her chest tightens every time she remembers how Zazie’s soft mouth feels. She pictures those blue eyes bright under someone else’s touch, Christina’s pink tongue tracing slow circles around Zazie’s stiff nipple while they laugh about her. That image used to sting. Now it fuels her. She shoved Zazie into the tall wooden wardrobe yesterday, slipped the bolt, left her there naked and furious until her own anger cooled. Hearing the low, pleading knocks on the door had settled her, strangely. She let her out when she was ready. The bruises are gone. The hunger is not. Zazie stands by the bed now, wrists bound in the same silk tie she once wore around Veronica’s throat. Sweat beads between her small breasts. She swallows hard, anticipation stiffening her spine. Veronica moves close, cups one pale cheek, and leans in until her lips brush the shell of Zazie’s ear. "You begged once," she whispers. "Now you’ll beg harder." Her thumb drags across Zazie’s lower lip, spreading a thin line of spit, then slips lower to the wet heat between her legs. Two fingers slide in without hesitation, curling, pressing. Zazie trembles, thighs parting, and the soft, wet sound of slick flesh takes over the room. Veronica kisses her then—deep, claiming, tasting every pulse of the girl who thought she could leave. Her free hand closes around Zazie’s throat, not hard, just enough to feel the heartbeat racing under the skin. When she pulls her mouth away, a strand of saliva still links them. Zazie’s eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, lips open like she needs to be used again. Veronica lets the tie loosen. She steps back, gestures to the bed. "Show me how sorry you are," she says, voice low. Zazie drops to her knees, tongue already flicking over her lower lip, ready to prove she belongs where she’s told. The door is locked. Nothing else matters.