Stress Reliever

Lucy sat at the kitchen table, staring at the same blank page of her notebook for twenty minutes. Every time she tried to map out her next step without Mimi, the words swam. She hated the helplessness most—knowing her only connection inside that place had gone dark. Before she could spiraling deeper, Gina slid in behind her and kissed the back of her neck, fingers already unbuttoning the detective’s shirt. “Stop thinking,” Gina whispered, and peeled the shirt away. She spun Lucy around on the stool and sank between her thighs, tugging the slacks and panties down in one quick drag. Lucy’s knees opened on instinct. Gina’s tongue was already flicking her clit, slow and deliberate at first, then flatter and broader, pulling wet, hungry sounds from Lucy that chased away every thought of the case. Gina slipped two fingers inside her and began to fuck her in a steady rhythm, wrist twisting just enough to press the spot that made Lucy shake. The detective’s head tipped back; her hips ground forward, chasing the pressure. Gina sucked harder, moaned against her cunt, and Lucy came hard—thighs clamping around her wife’s head, back arching, breath stuttering into the empty kitchen. When the tremors finally eased, Gina rose, kissed her jaw, and tugged Lucy’s shirt closed again with a small, wicked smile. “Now you can think,” she said.