Surrendering to Her Roommate's Thigh

The apartment door clicked shut behind Mia, her perfume lingering like a taunt in the hallway. Lena stood frozen in the living room, her blouse still half-unbuttoned from the heat of the evening, pulse hammering against her collarbone. Three nights had passed since Sophie had straddled her thigh on this very couch, rocking herself to a shuddering climax while Lena’s hands had gripped the cushions for dear life. They had barely spoken since, circling each other in the kitchen with careful politeness that fooled no one. Now Mia’s visit had ripped the scab clean off.

Sophie leaned against the kitchen island, barefoot in soft gray leggings and a cropped tank that left a strip of toned midriff exposed. Her dark hair was still damp from the shower she had taken after Mia left, loose waves clinging to her neck. She watched Lena with open curiosity, a small, knowing smile tugging at her mouth.

“You’re staring again,” Sophie said, voice low and warm. “Same way you stared when Mia had her tongue in my mouth.”

Lena’s cheeks flushed hard. She could still see it: Mia’s confident hands sliding under Sophie’s shirt, the wet sound of their kiss, the deliberate way Mia had glanced over Sophie’s shoulder straight at Lena while murmuring something filthy about how good Sophie tasted. Jealousy had twisted hot and sharp in Lena’s gut, but underneath it burned something worse—arousal so thick she had pressed her thighs together until they ached.