She's never been much for patience, but she tries to take her time with this.
Reaches down to trace the line of Donna's legs, graceful and pale and perfect. A gentle touch, feather-light, but she can feel the shiver.
Her hands move up, playing a little...there.... Donna's body arches with it, tightens....
Still exploring, gently. Stroking the smooth contours of the stomach, feeling the warmth, the sensitivity.... Slowly licking the back of one strong soft hand, nuzzling her way back up the arm, and more, she wants more....
Cupping the breasts--they fit in her hands so perfectly--then teasing them mercilessly, hard, till the nipples are tight little buds, and she can hear Donna gasping, moaning. The sound, the image, of perfect Donna Troy hot and aroused and helpless at her hands--
Screw patience, she dives down, the long legs spreading for her, and finds it hot and wet and slick. Waiting.
Pushes, hard, and the shudders go through Donna's whole body. "Yes," Donna's voice gasps, "*yes--*"
Harder, deeper, stronger; she hears breath coming in rasps and doesn't know whose voice it is now. God--yes--like this--
She comes with a scream.
Afterward, Mirage stretches, sighs a little regretfully; then she lets go of the illusion, and Donna's body shifts back to Mirage's own.
Illusion is never as good as reality; she knows that better than anyone. But sometimes it's good enough.