Imagines with Jenna Ortega

The Marriage 3

The office was quiet, save for the steady ticking of the clock and the faint hum of the city outside the windows. Y/n sat behind her desk, eyes fixed on the stack of documents in front of her.

But the words blurred. The neat lines of contracts and reports slipped away, replaced by flashes from the night before.

Jenna's breathless gasp against her lips. The heat of her skin. The way anger had melted into something rawer, something far more dangerous.

Y/n pressed her fingers against her temple, trying to steady her thoughts. She had always prided herself on control—on being untouchable, unreadable. But last night... last night had rattled her.

She remembered the taste of Jenna's mouth, the desperate way she clung to her, the way their fury had twisted into hunger. It had been reckless, consuming—unlike anything Y/n had allowed herself in years.

Her jaw tightened. She hated the way her body still ached for Jenna's touch. Hated how she could still feel the ghost of her lips burning against her own.

With a sharp breath, Y/n pushed the papers aside and leaned back in her chair, her composure cracking for just a moment. Her heart was still hungry, still restless. And for the first time, she admitted to herself—what scared her wasn't losing control with Jenna.

It was that she wanted to lose control again.

A knock broke the silence.

"Come in," Y/n said flatly, her voice betraying none of the chaos in her head.

Her assistant entered, carrying a folder. "Ma'am, the reports you requested—"

She placed the folder down, but lingered longer than usual. Her eyes flicked over Y/n, tracing the sharp suit, the damp hair, the authority she carried so effortlessly.

Y/n noticed. And she didn't stop her.

The air between them grew thick, heavy. The assistant shifted closer to the desk, her voice lower now. "You've been... tense lately. Maybe you need someone to take your mind off things."

Y/n should've shut it down. She knew better. But her chest still burned with hunger from last night, her thoughts still tangled in Jenna's skin, Jenna's lips. Before she realized it, she leaned in—and the assistant met her halfway.

Their mouths crashed together, quick, eager, messy. The assistant pressed against her, desperate, her hands brushing Y/n's shoulders like she had wanted this for a long time. For a moment, Y/n let herself sink into it, pretending. Pretending it was still Jenna.

But then—

The door creaked open.

"Y/n?" Jenna's voice cut through like ice.

Both women froze. Y/n jerked back instantly, her chest tightening, while the assistant stumbled a step away, lips still swollen from the kiss.

Jenna stood in the doorway, eyes wide but blazing, her robe still half-tied from home, like she had rushed here. Her gaze darted between Y/n and the assistant, fury and betrayal twisting her face.

The silence was deadly.

The assistant's face drained of color. She stepped back quickly, clutching the folder to her chest.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ortega... I— it was a mistake. I shouldn't have—"

Jenna didn't even look at her. Her eyes were locked on Y/n, sharp and blazing, the kind of glare that could cut flesh from bone.

Y/n exhaled slowly, fixing her tie like nothing had happened. "Leave us," she said coolly.

The assistant hesitated, then scurried out, closing the door behind her. The room dropped into silence, heavy with the storm about to break.