Hot jeans

Charlene turned slowly, her new jeans dress hugging the young curves she was still growing into. Laima sat watching her on the edge of the bed. Something hungry moved behind her eyes. She leaned forward, fingers finding the denim seam at Charlene's hip. She traced upward, pressed her palm flat against the warmth underneath. The denim felt scratchy. The skin beneath was soft, giving slightly under her touch. "Christ," Laima murmured. Her hand slid higher, grazing the side of a breast through stiff fabric. Charlene stood very still. Laima's thumb circled once, testing. Then her fingers slipped beneath the hem and found bare thigh, warm and bare and real. She leaned closer. Her breath stirred the fine hair at Charlene's neck. Her other hand joined the first, both palms moving beneath the dress now, mapping the body she'd only just decided she wanted. Charlene shivered but didn't pull away. Laima smiled against her collarbone.