Page 98 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie frowns at her this time. “Did you do it for him?”
Heat floods her face, and she tries to hide it with the book, but Frankie pulls it away, peeking over the top. She’s practically on top of her. Jasmine feels like she’s in fucking heat or something.
“Yeah, but Marc and Lani like to pick them out.”
“Jasmine.”
“Shhh,” she whines. “I don’t know. It felt weird to go shopping for me so they could buy me something. Lani makes me a scrapbook, and they make me a cake every year, and I love it. Besides, watching them open things is my favourite. Lani picked me flowers last year, but she did scalp my tulips for it. I like that.”
“I just want you to know that I hate Mike,” Frankie says, as she leans closer to her. Jasmine smiles as Frankie asks, “Can I help?”
“Sure.”
Frankie shuffles even closer, resting her cheek against Jasmine’s shoulder. Jasmine wants to keep her here. Frankie hooks her ankle over her shin as she tilts the book towards her, and Jasmine wonders if she tenses her thigh enough, will Frankie touch her where she needs her?
“Is this even in English?”
Jasmine snorts. “You bought it. The numbers are the same regardless.”
“Is the answer eight?”
“You’re not helpful,” she mutters, writing numbers down. A string of six numbers, none of which were eight. She’s into it now. Barely even thinking about how Frankie’s fingers trail down her arm.
“I want to help,” Frankie whispers. Her hand tightens against her waist. Jasmine wants to pretend she didn’t notice it go there, but she’s been thinking about every minuscule movement that Frankie makes since the night she met her.
“You can.”
Frankie hums against her, her head tilting, and Jasmine takes a deep breath as Frankie presses her lips to her neck. It should be embarrassing how quickly she gives up her pretence, but her hand hits the duvet like a bat out of hell.
Jasmine tilts, and Frankie adjusts until she’s between her legs, her mouth against her jaw. She kisses her, finally, and Jasmine’s hands land against her neck, one finding a homebehind Frankie’s bicep. Her tongue teases hers lightly. Jasmine wants more. She knows Frankie wants more, but, for some reason, she’s not giving in. Her hand moves against her waist.
“Frank,” Jasmine pants. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she replies quickly, and then she sighs, resting her forehead against Jasmine’s shoulder. “I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
Frankie laughs. “I don’t know.”
Jasmine runs her fingers against her spine. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve been with a lot of women.”
“You’re not just any woman, Jasmine. You’re, like,thewoman.”
Jasmine smiles, her hands against Frankie’s jaw so she can lift her face to hers. “I am?”
Frankie frowns, but her entire face is scrunched between her hands. She’s adorable. Jasmine lets her go, and Frankie kisses her shoulder again. Jasmine bites her lip. It’s a silly idea, but she knows how Frankie works.
“If you can’t make me come, it’s alright. I still want to be close to you.”
Frankie stills above her. God, she’s so easy.
“What?”
Jasmine shrugs as Frankie’s hand squeezes her waist, higher this time. If Jasmine arched a little, Frankie’s thumb might brush the bottom of her boob.
“You don’t think I can make you come?” Frankie asks, her lips already against her chest. She pulls the top of Jasmine’s camisole down with her teeth. Jasmine never had a concern about it.
“I’m just saying if you can’t, I still think you’re cute,” she mutters, as Frankie pulls her top until her nipples are exposed and then drags her tongue over one. Jasmine’s toes curl moments later, when Frankie pulls her nipple lightly between her teeth.
