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Summary
Every inch of her skin that Shauna kisses, sucks, grips, is everything she has ever dreamt of, thought of, for as long as she has known how to feel for someone this way. Only Melissa wasn’t the one Shauna dreamt of like this.
It makes her rougher—thinking about how her skin is a little paler than memory serves, how her voice—the sweet little noises she makes as Shauna kisses down her neck—is a bit pitchier, rather than the raspy, needy way she’d imagined her to sound like if it had ever come to this moment.
But nothing matters other than this moment, with her. Because Jackie’s not here.