Page 94 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie looks up at her with her teeth clamped on her bottom lip. “You think?”
“I do,” Jasmine replies. She perches on the edge of Frankie’s desk. They don’t touch, but Frankie shuffles back on her chair to see her better. “I wasn’t lying when I said I would do what you said.”
Frankie smiles. “Thank you, and sorry for putting you on the spot earlier.”
“I don’t mind being called the smartest person you know.”
Frankie laughs. “You are. The maths stuff is so fucking crazy.” Frankie stands up, stretching her hands above her head, and Jasmine’s gaze slips down her body. Frankie is embarrassingly hot for her in seconds. It was barely even suggestive, and Frankie is thinking about dropping to the floor and crawling under her dress.
Jasmine frowns. “What maths stuff?”
“Like, what’s three thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine times two thousand, three hundred and seventy-four?”
“Nine million, ninety thousand and forty-six,” Jasmine says moments later. Frankie almost comes.
“So hot. I have nothing in my mind that would be able to figure out if you were right. I just know you are.”
In a minute, she’ll hug Jasmine. It shouldn’t be a surprise. She’s hugged Jasmine before. They kissed this morning—a quick, have-a-nice-day kiss that happened just because itdid. There was no long lead-in, no lingering glances. They just kissed like girlfriends might kiss.
“Do you want a hug?” Jasmine asks, and Frankie’s arms are around her before she can finish her sentence.
“This really is just a hug for me,” Jasmine whispers, and Frankie laughs, sucking in her stomach so Jasmine can slide her arms out. Jasmine runs her fingers up her spine until she relaxes against her. Jasmine hums as she does, and Frankie tries to ignore the fire in her belly.
“Thank you,” Frankie mumbles.
“You did good, my girl,” she whispers. Frankie’s jaw clenches, and her hands fall to Jasmine’s hips. They haven’t had sex since the first night. Most nights, Jasmine kisses her until Frankie is panting and a wet mess, and then she pushes her away. Sometimes, she lets her cum quietly. It’s what Frankie asked for—what she needed—but God, she’s going insane.
“So good,” Jasmine mutters. Frankie twists her neck until Jasmine’s lips press against it.
“Jasmine.”
She kisses her lightly. So lightly that Frankie could reasonably pull away if she needed to. They could pretend it was nothing. But Frankie trusts Jasmine. She’s not worried about needing to stop being an issue. Jasmine would stop, kiss her, and then take her home for dinner.
When Jasmine sucks at her neck, Frankie’s hands tighten against her hips, and she gasps when Jasmine repeats the action. Her lips move along Frankie’s jaw until finally, her mouth is against hers. She slides her hand underneath Jasmine’s thigh, pulling her flush against her body.
Frankie is always in control, but she lets Jasmine control her. She wonders if Jasmine would have it the other way. Frankie is desperate to know if they can carve out a space where they both get what they want. Jasmine stands up, and Frankie drops her leg, but her lips try and stay against hers. Jasmine holds Frankie’s waist, twisting until she standsbehind her. Her lips hit her shoulder, and her hands slide until they’re under her top.
“This okay?” Jasmine asks quietly.
“Yes.”
She wastes no time. Jasmine kisses her neck as her hands move further up her top. Frankie’s stomach tenses with every movement of her fingers. Jasmine bites her neck when Frankie lets a moan slip past her lips, and she’s pretty sure Jasmine will kill her. Every calculated press of her fingertips is a murder attempt. She could go to jail.
“Hands on me,” Jasmine whispers, as her hands run over Frankie’s breasts. Her clever fingers reach into the cups of her bra and pull down slightly.
“Jasmine,” she whimpers.
Jasmine’s fingers rest against her, but she stops their movements. “Hands, Frankie.” She’s so obsessed with her. The sound of her voice when she’s turned on. The way she takes charge but keeps asking her if she’s okay. God, Frankie missed this, and she didn’t even realise how much.
Frankie places one hand with a heavy grip on the back of Jasmine’s head, and one against the one under her top.
Jasmine hums. “Good.” A sense of accomplishment rears up Frankie’s spine. She’s suddenly hot all over. Sometimes, when she can’t help it, her thoughts fall to how she wants to be treated in bed. Being masc, Frankie assumed she’d need to be the dominant one. She’s so good at it, and she does like being good at it. She knows she’d like it with Jasmine. She wants to make Jasmine beg for her.
But she wants Jasmine, too, exactly like this.
Jasmine twists Frankie’s nipple between her fingers—rubbing, pulling—until Frankie tries desperately to move to get friction where she needs it.
“You could come from this, right?” Jasmine asks, and Frankie drops her head, the heat flushing her face. “It would take so long, but you’d love every second, trying not to show me how badly you need something else.”
