Fleeting Flames - Jenna Ortega x Fem Reader

Part 22

Ever since Jenna had officially been living with you, your apartment had never felt this full—of life, of energy, of her.

It was late Saturday morning when Jenna joined you on the couch. You were scrolling through your phone, sipping coffee, when she slid into your lap, her movements slow and deliberate. She didn't say anything at first, just rested her head on your shoulder and draped her arms around your neck.

"Hi," she murmured, her voice soft but with an unmistakable edge.

"Hi," you replied, setting your phone down. "You okay?"

"No," she pouted, her fingers idly tracing circles on your arm. "It's been days since we've had sex. Days, Y/N. This isn't right."

You laughed, but the way her lips brushed your jawline made it clear she wasn't joking. "What's wrong? Is this our honeymoon phase ending? Married life already slowing down?"

Her pout deepened, and she pulled back just enough to glare at you. "If this is what married life is like, I'm filing for divorce."

"Wow, that's extreme," you teased, but her narrowed eyes told you the joke hadn't landed.

Without thinking, you slid your hand up her back and leaned in, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was slow at first, soft, but when her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, the air between you shifted. Her lips moved with increasing urgency, her body pressing against yours.

Without breaking the kiss, you leaned Jenna back, your hands supporting her waist as her body arched slightly. She let out a soft gasp, her legs tightening around you instinctively, and her hands moved for balance. Straddling your lap, she placed her palms on your knees, steadying herself against the movement.

But the moment her hand grazed the faint scar on your knee, she froze. Pulling back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowed in concern. "What's this?" she asked, her voice low, yet laced with curiosity.

She turned slightly, her head tilting as she twisted around to get a better look. Her fingers traced the scar, gentle but insistent, as if piecing together the story on her own before you could respond.

You glanced down, catching the playful curiosity in her eyes. "Soccer game back in Bahamas. You followed me all the way to the resort clinic afterwards."

"Correction," she murmured, her fingers trailing over the scar again, her touch almost reverent. "You decided to go all in while getting the ball from me, just because you were desperate to be close to me. And then you got taken out by my teammate." She paused, her smirk deepening. "I wasn't about to let you bleed out in paradise."

"Bleed out?" you repeated with a grin, trying to ground yourself in her words despite how her hand continued to wander. "It was just a cut, Jen. And if I remember correctly, you followed me to the clinic claiming it was because you were 'a good human being.' Admit it—you were worried about me."

Her smirk softened into something teasing. "Fine. Maybe a little. But only because you looked so pitiful, flailing around like you'd been hit by a truck."

"Alright, whatever." you quipped, your voice dipping lower. "Just so you know, I couldn't stop staring at you in those shorts and that bikini top."

Her cheeks flushed, her hand freezing for a moment before continuing its exploration. "You never said that," she muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You grinned. "I would never. I was too busy trying not to lose focus every time you got near me."

She laughed softly, her hands resting firmly against your thighs now. "You were such a stalker back then."