Thistle and Stone [Chaennie]

Chapter 12

WANT

Roseanne heard Jennie's soft inhale at her words, felt the quickening of her heart against her chest. The bond pulsed around them and Roseanne leaned into it, into the feeling of Jennie pressed tightly against her, asking for her. It was more than she could have hoped for. More than she thought she deserved. At Jennie's words, the reluctance she had clung to for so many weeks cracked and crumbled around her. She had held back for long enough. She wanted this, she wanted her.

Gripping Jennie's chin in her hand, Roseanne took in the searching brown eyes staring up at her, hungry. The smattering of freckles across Jennie's nose, the endless mass of dark curls, the curve of the cupid's bow on her upper lip when her lips parted in anticipation. Desire coiled inside her so firmly it almost hurt.

Roseanne brought her mouth hard against Jennie's, needing to feel the press of her lips against hers. Her fingers tugged out the remnants of Jennie's braid, twisting her hand into the thick curls and holding her tight, the other impatiently pulling at her woollen jumper.

Roseanne crowded Jennie towards the corner table, unable to break away from their kiss. Jennie panted into her mouth, her tongue gliding over hers. Without looking, Roseanne shoved aside the stack of books lining the table and allowed them to thud in a pile on the floor. She hooked her hands under Jennie's thighs, easily lifting her onto table until they were level. Jennie gasped, half-lidded eyes flying open.

Roseanne helped her tug her jumper up and over her head. Her eyes glazed over as they fixed on the soft lines of Jennie's skin—the silver line of her scar, the dip between her breasts, the birthmark against her shoulder, the softness of her stomach. Roseanne wanted all of her, wanted to bury herself against Jennie's skin and breathe her in. She felt Jennie's hands against her side and quickly discarded her own shirt, watching as Jennie reached out to touch her, to feel her. Impatient, Roseanne pulled her closer by a hand on the back of her neck, slotting their legs together until Jennie's knee pressed tight against her inner thigh. Jennie tilted her hips up at contact and Roseanne barely stifled a groan. Jennie beneath her hands was intoxicating, knowing she had her—fully—for that moment.

"Roseanne," Jennie breathed, her voice caught between a whine and a demand. Her bottom lip was wet, swollen from Roseanne's teeth pulling at it, sucking at it.

Roseanne swallowed Jennie's next words with her kiss, pushing her hips flush. She moved to the side of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, sinking her teeth gently into the soft flesh of Jennie's neck, urged on by her slight trembling, impatient moans escaping her lips.

"Tell me—" Jennie gasped at her bite, "tell me that you've wanted this."

"I've wanted this," Roseanne murmured, her mouth barely lifting from its place against Jennie's shoulder. It was the truth. She had thought about this moment, played out every scenario a hundred times in her head, always wanting more.

"Again," Jennie managed, voice tight, almost keening as Roseanne's tongue found her nipple—pulled it into her mouth.

"I've wanted this," Roseanne's voice hummed against her skin, teasing. She sucked her nipple lightly, tongue swishing across it maddeningly slow. Jennie was melting under her touch and she wanted to stretch out every moment—soak in every second of it.

Jennie's head lolled back, resting against her shoulders and the back wall. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, nails dragging over wood. Roseanne glanced up, her eyes finding the thin strip of scar across Jennie's neck. Seeing it never failed to send a jolt through her. It twisted her gut, a reminder of their shared past. She wanted to cover every inch of Jennie with her mouth, beg her forgiveness with her lips.