Chapter twenty-eight #2
Back in the hotel room, the lights were low—dimmed to a golden hush that bathed the space in warmth. Outside the windows, Atlanta shimmered under a blanket of night, city lights blinking like distant stars. But in here, it was quiet. Still. Just them.
Willa sat on the edge of the bed, one boot already off, her fingers tugging at the zipper of the other. She looked up just as Frankie approached from behind—barefoot, curls still damp from their earlier shower, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and that look.
That look that said I need you and I missed you and please, let me love you the way I remember.
Frankie’s hands slid up Willa’s arms, measured and steady, until her fingers curved over her shoulders. She leaned in, her lips brushing the back of Willa’s neck—soft, purposeful kisses trailing up to the spot just below her ear.
“I want you,” she whispered, voice low and rough. “I want to savor you. I wanna take my time with you.”
Willa’s breath caught. She turned to look at her, their eyes locking in the dim light. Her chest rose, fell, the air between them suddenly charged.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I want that too.”
Frankie kissed her then—tender at first, just a graze of mouths.
But it deepened with each pass, like they were remembering all over again how to fit.
Frankie nudged Willa to stand, then peeled her out of her clothes deliberately, one piece at a time.
Shirt, bra, jeans, underwear—all of it revealed like layers of something holy.
“God,” Frankie murmured, eyes sweeping over her body. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Willa. Always have been. But right now? I could fall to my knees for you.”
Willa flushed, not from embarrassment but from heat, from the way Frankie looked at her like she was everything. She reached out, tugging gently on the hem of Frankie’s shirt.
“Take this off.”
Frankie obeyed, deliberate in her movements, revealing skin that glowed amber in the soft light. Willa’s eyes traced the curve of her waist, the ink on her ribs, the slope of her collarbone. She reached out, fingertips following the edge of a tattoo.
“I missed touching you like this,” she whispered. “Missed the way you breathe when I kiss right—” she leaned in, brushing her mouth over the spot below Frankie’s throat, “—here.”
Frankie inhaled sharply, her hands already cupping Willa’s face. “You make me feel like I’m worth something. Like I’m more than the mess.”
“You are,” Willa murmured. “You’re everything.”
They kissed again—drawn-out and tender—before Frankie guided her down, settling her onto the bed like a prayer. She straddled her hips, leaning close until they were nose to nose.
“I wanna worship you tonight,” Frankie said, voice low and hallowed. “Wanna hear you say my name while I make you come. Real slow. Real sweet.”
Willa whimpered, hips arching toward her, hands gripping her thighs.
“I will,” she promised, breathless. “Say anything you want. Just don’t stop touching me.”
Frankie kissed her deeply, then began her slow descent. Her lips mapped Willa’s body with precision, with memory. She kissed her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, her stomach. Whispering between every pass of her mouth.
“You taste like fucking heaven.”
“Yes,” Willa gasped. “God, yes.”
“You want more?”
“Please, Frankie—don’t stop.”
Frankie slid lower, one hand anchoring Willa’s thighs open as her mouth found its mark. Her tongue moved deliberate and unhurried, and Willa cried out, head thrown back against the pillows. Frankie worked her like she had all the time in the world—filthy and reverent all at once.
“You’re dripping for me,” Frankie murmured between strokes. “I could stay here all night.”
Willa’s hands buried in her hair. “Do it. Please, just—don’t stop.”
She kissed her way up Willa’s thighs—almost lazily—lips brushing warm over the inside of her knee, the softest part of her thigh, the crease where her hip curved open. Her hands smoothed over Willa’s legs, thumbs drawing idle circles into her skin, grounding them both in sensation.
“You’re shaking already,” she whispered, voice low and sinful, lips hovering just inches from where Willa was aching. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
Willa whimpered, hips rising off the bed as her fingers curled tight in the sheets.
“Mae…”
Frankie chuckled, the sound soft and wicked. “What do you need, baby?”
“You,” Willa gasped. “Please.”
Frankie leaned in—close enough for her breath to tease sensitive skin—but didn’t touch. Not yet. She kissed the inside of Willa’s thigh again, open-mouthed this time, letting her tongue just barely taste her.
“You’re already so wet,” she murmured, lips brushing just beside Willa’s center, deliberately not where she needed her most. “Is this all for me?”
Willa nodded, breath catching in her throat. “Yes. It’s always for you.”
Frankie groaned like the words punched the air out of her chest. Her hands slid up, one anchoring Willa’s hip while the other roamed—over her belly, the underside of her breast, then down again, lazy and exploring. Like she wanted to memorize her all over again.
“You feel like silk,” she whispered, dragging her knuckles along the edge of Willa’s thigh. “Softest fucking thing I’ve ever touched.”
Willa arched again, whimpering, every nerve lit up.
“Please,” she said again, more desperate now.
“Not yet,” Frankie said, kissing the dip of her hip. “I’m not done worshipping you.”
She took her time. Mouthed at Willa’s skin until it was damp and flushed and trembling. She nipped lightly at her inner thigh, then soothed it with a kiss. Her fingers traced idle lines along her stomach, her hips, her ribs—never rushing, never settling.
And Willa let her. Let herself be touched and adored and undone in unrelenting waves.
Frankie leaned up to kiss her, mouths meeting deep and messy.
“I could spend hours tasting you,” she whispered against her lips. “I want you to feel every second of it. Want you to know what it does to me when you fall apart in my mouth.”
Willa’s breath stuttered. “Then do it. Please. I need your mouth.”
That earned her a groan—a low, needy sound that vibrated through Frankie’s chest. “You’ll get it, baby. You’ll get all of me.”
She kissed her way back down again—a lingering trail over her stomach, her hips, the tops of her thighs—until she was exactly where Willa wanted her. But even then, she teased. Just the lightest flick of her tongue. A careful pass, barely there. Then another.
And another.
“Fuck,” Willa gasped, hips rocking up. “You’re killing me.”
Frankie smiled against her. “Good.”
Her tongue dipped lower, parting her with care, gliding an unhurried stripe that had Willa moaning—loud and open and raw.
She circled her clit without pressure, letting her tongue dance just around it, just enough to make Willa writhe.
Then—finally—she wrapped her mouth around her and sucked, slow and deep and perfect.
Willa cried out, hands fisting in the sheets, her whole body trembling.
But Frankie didn’t let up. She kept the pace slow, deliciously slow, drawing out every moan, every tremor, every breathless plea. She added her fingers—just one at first, then two—pressing in deep and curling, searching for that spot that made Willa’s whole body jolt.
“There,” Willa whimpered. “Oh god, Mae, right there—”
“I know, baby,” she murmured, voice muffled but thick with need. “I’ve got you.”
She licked and sucked, fucked her steady and deep, teasing the edge but never letting her fall. Not yet.
“You’re holding back,” Willa gasped. “Please—let me come.”
Frankie lifted her head, lips slick, eyes dark. “Not yet,” she whispered, kissing her thigh. “Not until I’ve had my fill.”
And she went back in.
Tasting her. Savoring her. Making her beg.
Only when Willa was shaking, whimpering, crying her name, only when she couldn’t take one more second without falling apart—did Frankie let her.
“Come for me, baby,” she whispered, mouth hot against her. “Come in my mouth.”
And Willa did.
With a broken sob, her hips lifted, her body tensed and then shattered, her orgasm rolling through her like a storm. Frankie stayed with her through it, licking her gently through the aftershocks, kissing her thighs, her hips, her stomach.
When she finally crawled back up, Willa pulled her close, dragging her into a messy, desperate kiss.
“Jesus,” Willa whispered against her mouth. “You’re dangerous.”
Frankie smiled, breathless. “Only for you.”
They lay there tangled in each other, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync.
Frankie’s smirk softened into something hungrier—something needier. She climbed into Willa’s lap, settling herself with measured intent until her thighs bracketed Willa’s, her slick center pressed flush to Willa’s skin.
Willa hissed out a breath at the heat, at the wet slide against her leg. Frankie’s hands found her shoulders, then her face, framing it like something sacred.
“I need to feel you,” Frankie whispered, voice thick and wrecked. “Need to move. Need to come on you.”
Willa’s hands dropped to Frankie’s hips, holding her there, grounding her. “Then do it, baby. Ride me. I want to watch you fall apart.”
Frankie groaned and dipped her head to kiss her—deep and open-mouthed, tongues tangling. She rolled her hips once, slow and searching, dragging herself along the firm muscle of Willa’s thigh.
Willa caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re already so wet for me,” she murmured. “You feel that?”
Frankie whimpered into her mouth. “Yeah… fuck, I can’t help it. You wrecked me earlier.”
“Good,” Willa growled, her voice low, coaxing. “Use me, Mae. Make yourself come. I want to feel you soak me.”
That did it. Frankie started to move in earnest, slow, grinding circles at first—slick and steady, dragging herself back and forth along Willa’s thigh.
Her hands gripped Willa’s shoulders for balance, nails biting into her skin.
Her head tipped back as she found her rhythm, her lips parted, breath catching on every pass.
Willa watched her like she was memorizing it. The flush blooming down her neck. The flex of her thighs. The way her nipples peaked, brushing Willa’s chest.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Willa breathed, her voice an awed hush. She trailed her hands up Frankie’s sides, then back down, thumbs stroking the curve of her waist. “Look at you, baby. So desperate for it. Riding me like you need it to breathe.”
Frankie gasped, her eyes fluttering open to meet Willa’s. Her voice came out broken, raw. “I do. I fucking need this. Need you.”
“I’m right here,” Willa whispered, guiding her hips. “Take what you need. I’ll give you everything.”
Frankie rocked harder, faster now, chasing it. Her forehead dropped to Willa’s, and their mouths brushed as she moaned, low and helpless.
“You feel so good,” Frankie panted. “So strong. I can feel your muscle right against me—fuck—every time I grind down.”
“Ride it, baby,” Willa coaxed. “That’s it. Just like that. You’re doing so good.”
Frankie let out a strangled sound, hips jerking. “I’m close. Don’t stop talking.”
Willa slid a hand up her back, fingers buried in the damp curls at the nape of her neck. “You gonna come for me, Mae? Gonna soak my thigh just from grinding that pretty pussy against me?”
“Yes—yes, fuck, Willa…”
“Do it,” Willa urged, voice thick with heat and love and pride. “I want to feel you come on me. Let go, baby. Let me have it.”
That was all it took.
Frankie cried out, hips stuttering as her body clenched, her whole form trembling. She buried her face in Willa’s neck, moans hot against her skin as she came hard, grinding through it in desperate, needy rolls of her hips.
Willa held her through the waves, one arm locked around her waist, the other hand cradling the back of her head. She murmured softly—words she wasn’t even fully conscious of.
“That’s it… I’ve got you… you’re okay… you’re so perfect.”
Frankie slumped against her, chest heaving, skin flushed, legs trembling. Her breath came in short, quiet pants against Willa’s neck.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “That was—Jesus.”
Willa kissed her temple. “Yeah. That was everything.”
They stayed like that for a long moment—skin to skin, pulse to pulse—until Frankie finally lifted her head and kissed her again. Slow and grateful. Tender and real.
Still breathless, Frankie grinned and brushed her nose against Willa’s. “You ruin me. Every fucking time.”
Willa smiled, her fingers still stroking her back. “We need a strap.”
Frankie moaned. “Yes. Yes, we do.”
“I’ll get one,” Willa murmured. “For when you’re home.”
“Promise?”
Willa groaned. “Swear.”
* * *