PRIVATE PRACTICE | JENLISA

FIFTEEN

JENNIE
***

JENNIE awakened by slow degrees. She registered the sunlight on her face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and Lisa’s delicious smell. It was all around her, warm and concentrated, and she burrowed into the sheets with a happy sigh.

A heavy weight over her side kept her from rolling the sheets around her like a burrito, and she frowned. What was that? She lifted the blankets and stared in shock at the arm wrapped around her waist. Her naked waist. She’d slept in her bra and panties last night.

And she hadn’t gone through her night routine. She was covered in nastiness. Her mouth. It was probably forming an ecosystem for antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria. She shot up in bed, her entire being focused on running straight to the bathroom. Floss, brush, shower, pajamas. Floss, brush, shower, pajamas.

Lisa yanked her back down and kissed her nape. “Not yet.”

“I’m gross. I have to get clean. I—”

She sucked on her neck and pulled her hips back as she rocked forward, making her achingly aware of the firm flesh prodding against the backs of her thighs through her boxers.

Her body went into total system failure. Her limbs weakened. Between her thighs, she flushed and tingled with wanting. The intensity of her desire frightened and embarrassed her. She needed to be in control of herself and her body. Control was gone.

“Good morning.” Her voice was a husky rasp that sent shivers down her spine.

“G-good mor—” A hand dipped inside her bra and cupped her breast. She stroked the tip until it ached and pinched, sending a burst of sensation straight to her core. When she headed downward, smoothing a hand over her belly, her stomach muscles clenched.

“I want to touch you here.” He palmed her sex with a bold grasp, and the heat of her touch spread through the cotton of her panties, searing her.

She gripped her wrist, fully intending to pull her away, but her hands refused to cooperate. Her forearm was firm with defined muscle, her skin smooth, utterly distracting.

“Is that permission?” she whispered.

She’d given her permission last night. She wanted this, but she didn’t know how to handle this side of herself. Her body told her to say yes. Her mind told her to say no.

Her body won the fight, and her hips arched against her hand. She edged the crotch of her panties aside. She kissed her nape as she traced the slick entrance to her body with her fingertips. A sharp breath tore from her lungs. Panic and pleasure collided.

“You’re wet already, Jennie. You’re like a Lamborghini. Zero to sixty in two point seven seconds.”

“You like Lamborghinis?” She tried desperately to cling to coherent thought. She needed to think at all times, to weigh her actions and her words. When she let go, she always made mistakes. She did the wrong thing, hurt people, mortified herself.

She continued touching her lightly, trailing around and around her opening in maddening circles. Her teeth scraped against her neck before she licked and kissed her. Goose bumps spread over her skin.

“Yes, I like them. No, don’t get me one,” she said.

“Why not?” She rubbed her feet against her shins, dug her fingernails into her arm. Push her away. Pull her closer. Regain control. Let go.

“It doesn’t suit my lifestyle, and my mom would be very, very curious how I got it.” She emphasized the word very with barely there strokes over her clitoris. Her sex spasmed and trembled at the edge of release.