Page 16 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie doesn’t want it to be over, and she doesn’t know how to tell her that.
“Can you only come once?” Jasmine asks.
“Hmm?”
“What’s your usual limit?”
Frankie frowns. If her libido is up because her pills are being annoying, her vibrator hates to see her coming. When she’s with other people, it depends. It’s never her, though.
“I dunno. A few, I guess.”
Jasmine hums. “So I can keep going, and then I can do it again?”
“Y-yeah, okay.”
Jasmine smiles as she reaches down to pull Frankie’s underwear off. If Frankie could think, she’d take Jasmine’s bra off too. It’s criminal how she hasn’t seen her naked yet. They’ve been in bed longer than thirty seconds. She should have seen her naked by now.
Jasmine kisses her thigh, looking up at her as her hand moves back between her legs.
“These two, right?” she asks, sinking her fingers back into Frankie’s cunt. Frankie’s back arches, her jaw clenches, and she knows Jasmine is fucking with her.
“You don’t need to ask.”
“But it’s hot when you talk, and I miss your voice,” she mutters, before pulling Frankie’s nipple into her mouth. Frankie wants to laugh, but it comes out choked. She threads her fingers through Jasmine’s hair, pulling her upward until she can kiss her lips.
“You are everything I’ve ever thought about,” Jasmine whispers, as her fingers flick again, and Frankie isso close. She moves her hand against Jasmine’s waist, her fingers fumbling against her chest. Frankie can barely think, but she pulls the cup of her bra down enough to touch her.Her fingertips are useless, but she brushes against Jasmine’s nipple, and her moan is the best thing Frankie has ever heard. It’s long and deep and so close to her ear that she feels on top of the world.
It takes all her strength, but she cups Jasmine’s breast in her hand, then twists her nipple properly. Jasmine bucks her hips against her thigh and makes a noise Frankie swears could power her for the rest of her life. Somewhere between a moan and a whimper, it gets caught in her throat, and Frankie truly, honestly wants to focus on Jasmine, but her moan sends a shockwave through her, and she’s coming against Jasmine’s hand. Frankie tilts her head back, and Jasmine bites her ear as her fingers keep moving. It’s the most euphoric Frankie has felt in the longest time. Jasmine groans against her, letting her ride it out, kissing her through it, slow and sweet and filthy, worshipful to the end.
She barely has time to take a deep breath before Jasmine is hovering above her. She looks so pleased with herself, and Frankie adores it.
“Hi,” Jasmine says. “Can I use my mouth?”
“God, yes.”
Jasmine smiles, kisses her once, and then she’s gone. Her lips press against Frankie’s ribs, her hipbone, and down until she hooks Frankie’s thighs over her shoulders.
“Jasmine,” Frankie whispers. She doesn’t want to be quiet. It takes some thought to keep her mouth closed. She wants to lose herself to it, but she doesn’t know how. What if she moans and she sounds like a seal? What if she says something that sounds sexy in her head and Jasmine laughs at her? What if she does something and the light in Jasmine’s eyes goes out?
She’s pulled from her thoughts by Jasmine’s tongue against her. It’s warm, heavy, and curious. Jasmine is everywhere, and it takes Frankie a moment to grip the sheets. Jasmine moans against her, and it’s hot—so hot. Frankie doesn’t even know if she finds it this hot when she’s goingdown on someone. She wants to go down on Jasmine right now, but her fingers are gripping the sheets so tightly she might never let go.
“Oh, fuck,” Jasmine whispers, looking up at her, her voice deeper than before. She really might make Frankie come again in seconds. “You taste even better than I imagined.” She moves back, and Frankie tenses her jaw.
“Holy shit. Uh, fuck, do that again,” Frankie says, and Jasmine does. “God, you’re perfect.”
Jasmine hums against her, the pads of her fingertips digging into Frankie’s thighs. Perhaps they’ll leave an imprint. Frankie has been obsessed with a fingertip press ever since she went to Rome to see the statues in the Borghese. Frankie is so sure if she ran her own fingers over her thigh tomorrow, she’d feel Jasmine’s presence. It would make sense, that Jasmine could create something worthy of displaying in a museum with her touch alone.
“Tell me something,” Jasmine says. Frankie can’t think of anything other than the way her body feels electric. How she doesn’t know Jasmine at all, but she feels all the better knowing she exists.
“Something true,” Jasmine whispers, and her tongue is back against Frankie.
“You’re so fucking pretty.”
Jasmine hums and Frankie can feel her smiling against her. She wants to see it though. Frankie looks down at her, and Jasmine’s eyes are dark, smouldering as she looks back up at her, like every fantasy she’s ever had but could never adequately describe.
She’s going to come again, and naturally, now Frankie is happy and safe and feeling fucking fantastic, the voice of whatever-her-name-was hits her solidly in the chest. Frankie’ssobig. Her thighs are massive, and Jasmine can’t go down on her, because what if Frankie crushes her? Frankie knows it’s not true, but now that’s all she can think. She’ll crush her.
“I—“ she tries, but the only neurons firing in her brain are making her toes curl and her back arch. “Jas—Jasmine, come here.”
