T-Minus 10

Your eyes were heavy, unwilling to open right away, the weight of exhaustion making your lashes flutter uselessly before they finally parted. Blurry. That was the first thing you registered.

It was only when you tilted your chin up, your breath still uneven, that Liam's flushed face came into view above you.

He looked wrecked.

His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, the way it did when you had him coming apart in your hands and mouth. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat, his dark hair slightly mussed, a few strands sticking to his forehead. But it was his eyes—that half-lidded, dazed look of pure, unfiltered satisfaction—that made your stomach twist with pride.

You did that.

You felt something warm, wet, slowly trailing down your cheek, thick enough to stick but slick enough to move on its own. Your vision was slightly impaired in your left eye, something dense and sticky partially blurring it as you blinked rapidly, trying to clear it.

Even with his exhaustion, Liam still managed to smirk down at you, his voice husky and spent as he muttered, "God, I wish you did this with your makeup on."

You smirked back, reaching up to give his now softening cock one last gentle squeeze, milking out the last few drops and catching them on your tongue as you did. Then, with a teasing grin, you swiped your tongue over the sensitive, swollen tip in a soft, parting kiss before pulling back.

"Don't be so greedy, babe," you teased, voice sultry but playful. "Be glad I even did this for you before heading off to go on a date with another man—which, by the way, you set me up with."

Liam groaned, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in."

"Actually," you said, swiping your fingers over your cum-splattered cheek and dragging the mess toward your lips, "I'm the one rubbing it in."

Liam let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "You are so fucking sexy."

You shot him a wink before collecting the rest of the creamy goodness with your fingers, scraping it deliberately slow from your cheek, down the bridge of your nose, and finally your chin, bringing it all to your mouth and licking them clean.

Liam's throat bobbed as he swallowed, still watching as you savored every drop of his deliciousness before swallowing it down with a pleased smile.

A warmth of satisfaction curled in your belly. Yeah, you knew he liked watching you do that.

Last time, after your date with Richard, you had felt weird coming back to Liam and just… moving on like nothing happened. Even if he acted like he was fine, you knew a part of him must've hated it. Hell, you had hated it. It left an odd, lingering guilt in your stomach when you returned, knowing you had been intimate with someone else just hours before.

So this time, before heading out, you wanted to do something for him first.

You stood up, stretching briefly before giving him a little pat on the chest. "Alright, lover boy, I gotta get ready."

Liam groaned, collapsing onto his bed. "Ughhh, I wish we could just cuddle all night."

You smirked, swiping up your phone from the nightstand. "Whose fault is that?"

Liam just grumbled something under his breath as you strutted toward the bathroom, your heels clicking against the floor, the soft sway of your hips making sure to keep his attention.

You knew he was watching.

And you made sure to give him something to look at.

Your outfit was… well, stunning.

First, the lingerie.

You had picked out something delicate, something that made you feel both powerful and feminine. A sheer, lace bra in the prettiest shade of dusty rose, the lace pattern intricately detailed, forming floral swirls that left just enough to the imagination. The matching lace panties were teasing just the right amount of skin, with thin straps that curved along your hips.

Over that, stockings—a soft, semi-sheer black that clung to your legs, secured with dainty garter straps that clipped into the lace at the top.

Then came the dress.

A figure-hugging, wine-red satin dress, smooth as liquid, draping over your body like it was made for you. The deep V-neckline dipped just low enough to be alluring, while the spaghetti straps kept it simple, elegant. The hem was short, teasing your mid-thighs, with a high slit on the side that showed just a peek of those garter straps underneath when you walked.

And finally, the heels—strappy, black stilettos, adding a sensual edge to the entire look.

It was a perfect balance of sexy and sophisticated.

No doubt, Liam loved it.

You stepped into the bathroom, flipping on the light before grabbing a towel to quickly rinse and pat dry your face. The warm water removed the last of Liam's mess, leaving your skin fresh and clean.

As you wiped away the final traces of the moment you'd just shared with Liam, a small smile tugged at your lips.

Yeah, you'd go on this date.

But at the end of the day?

You were still his.

With that thought, you reached into your makeup bag, setting out your foundation, eyeliner, lipstick, and other goodies.

And with a satisfied hum, you began preparing to paint yourself beautiful.

The bathroom mirror reflected a blank canvas—your face, freshly cleansed, free of any traces of the moment you had just shared with Liam. For now.

Your makeup bag sat open on the counter, every trusted product arranged in a loose semicircle—each one a tool of transformation, ready to turn you from just pretty to utterly breathtaking.

You reached for the first step.

You took a dollop of primer between your fingers, rubbing it between your fingertips before smoothing it over your face. The silky consistency blurred any pores, creating that soft-focus effect that made your skin look damn near airbrushed.

Then, foundation.

The small glass bottle clicked as you unscrewed the cap, pumping a pea-sized amount onto the back of your hand. You dipped your damp beauty sponge into it, tapping it against your skin in light, bouncing motions.

The formula melted into your face, evening out your complexion, leaving behind a flawless, luminous glow—not too matte, not too dewy, just perfect.

Next came concealer, a shade just a touch lighter than your skin tone.

A few precise swipes—under your eyes to erase any lingering exhaustion, along the bridge of your nose, a dot on your chin, and just a tiny bit at the corners of your mouth to lift the face subtly.

You blended it out with gentle pats, watching as it brightened and lifted, giving you that rested, effortless beauty.

Then, the contour.

A cool-toned cream stick, gliding just beneath your cheekbones, along the jawline, at your temples. You blended it with a stiff brush, watching as your features sharpened, your bone structure subtly enhanced, a whisper of shadow and definition where you wanted it most.

Blush came next, a warm rose shade that you tapped onto the apples of your cheeks, blending it upward toward your temples for that sun-kissed flush.

And finally—highlighter.

A soft, golden shimmer, swept along the high points of your face—the tops of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, a touch on your cupid’s bow. The way it caught the light made you look like you were lit from within, a soft, ethereal glow.

Your hands worked with muscle memory as you reached for your eyeshadow palette.

A soft, neutral brown shade became your transition color, dusted lightly into your crease, setting the stage for depth and warmth.

Then, a darker shade, blended just at the outer corners, lifting the shape of your eyes.

For the lid—a soft shimmer, a champagne-gold that you pressed in with your fingertip, ensuring it caught the light with every blink.

Then came the eyeliner.

A sleek black liquid pen, gliding across your lash line with sharp precision. You flicked it upward at the ends, creating that perfect cat-eye, the kind that made your eyes look bigger, sharper, sultry.

Mascara followed, the bristles gripping every lash, coating them in rich black from root to tip, making them longer, fuller, more dramatic.

Liam had already ruined them once tonight.

But now, it was time to make them irresistible.

You reached for your lip liner, a deep, natural mauve, gliding it along the curves of your lips, slightly overlining the cupid’s bow for that plump, kissable effect.

Then, the lipstick—a creamy, satin-finish red, rich and sultry, gliding over your lips like pure silk.

You pressed them together, evening out the color, before taking a single tissue and blotting—ensuring it stayed put.

Flawless.

You tilted your head side to side, inspecting your work in the mirror. Perfectly sculpted, perfectly seductive.

But before you left, there was one last thing to do.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you found Liam still lounging on his bed, one arm thrown over his forehead, looking like he was still recovering from earlier.

You smirked, stepping closer, and he looked up, eyes immediately widening at the sight of you.

"Damn," he muttered, sitting up slightly. "That’s not fair."

You cocked your head. "What’s not fair?"

"You looking like that… and not for me."

Your smirk widened. Oh, he was sulking.

Leaning down, you cupped his jaw gently, tilting his head up toward you. His lips parted slightly, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. You could see it in his expression—he wanted to kiss you, wanted to ruin your lipstick again.

But instead, you tilted slightly, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his lips, careful not to smudge.

Then, with a playful wink, you pulled back and whispered, "Be good while I’m gone, babe."

And with that, you turned and walked out the door, leaving Liam to suffer.

You walked down the college halls with peace of mind, your heels clicking against the tile floor with an effortless rhythm.

Your body felt light, your mood untouchable—the way it always did after Liam’s mind-melting, toe-curling sex. And, if you were being completely honest, after a perfectly-executed makeup look too. There was a certain power in feeling undeniably hot, and right now? You were on fire.

Shoulders back, chin up, hair cascading in flawless waves—you walked with a confidence that felt as natural as breathing.

Then, as you were about to pass by one of the dorm rooms, you noticed a guy standing at the doorframe, chatting with someone inside. He was leaning casually against the frame, a lazy smirk on his lips as he talked. You weren’t paying attention.

Until you heard—

“Damn, you look absolutely stunning.”

The compliment was unexpected, but it pulled a warm, genuine smile to your lips. You glanced at him, offering a sweet, polite-as-can-be:

"Aw, thank you!"

It felt nice. Compliments always did. It wasn’t even about validation—it was just… nice when people appreciated effort.

You kept walking.

But then, like a fucking curse, he just had to ruin it.

"Yo, wait—what’s your rate?"

Your steps halted.

A second passed. Your brow furrowed. Did you hear that right?

You turned your head slightly. "Sorry—what?"

The guy smirked, pushing off the doorframe like he had just said something clever.

"I said, what’s your rate?" He gestured toward you, his eyes dragging over your figure in a way that made your stomach turn. "Like, you gotta be either a stripper, or some dude here is the luckiest boyfriend alive.”

Behind him, the other guy fucking laughed.

And just like that—

That sweet, warm girl? Gone.

It was like flipping a switch—from angel to absolute menace in half a second.

CRACK.

Your heel came down hard on the top of his foot.

"AHH—FUCK—!”

He squealed like a dying pig, nearly buckling as he stumbled backward, clutching his foot like he’d just been shot.

And you? You didn’t even blink.

"You fucking rat-faced, incel-ass cuck," you snarled, your voice dripping with so much venom it could kill a grown man. “You got a fucking nerve talking to me like that, you limp-dicked, piss-stained crust goblin."

He looked stunned—like no woman had ever spoken to him that way before. Good.

You took a step forward, and he instinctively flinched.

“You think a girl like me would ever let your greasy-fingered, Reddit-scrolling, anime-body-pillow-humping ass anywhere near her?” You scoffed, voice laced with disgust. "Look at you. Look at your off-brand ass." You flicked a hand at him. "You look like a Spirit Halloween mannequin reject. You look like you shower once a fucking month."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"You wanna know my fucking ‘rate’?" You tilted your head, eyes gleaming ****. "I charge a minimum of six figures to even breathe in the direction of a fucking goblin-blooded piece of shit like you."

The guy in the doorway looked like he wanted to disappear.

"And for the record," you leaned in slightly, voice dropping into dangerous territory, "there is a very, very lucky boyfriend. And guess what?" A wicked smirk curled your lips. "I’m even fucking luckier to have him."

Then, with zero hesitation—

You spat in his face.

He gasped.

The guy in the doorway audibly whimpered.

And without a single glance back, you turned on your heel and strode off, leaving them both standing there like shell-shocked dumbasses.

You found one of the private lounges in the dorm building, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs with a satisfied exhale.

Your purse slid from your shoulder to your lap, and with a practiced motion, you pulled out your phone, tapping open Netflix.

And just like that, you settled into your usual routine, back at peace.