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Ever since she could remember from the misspent nights of her teens, Franky had always been good at stifling her moans. Initially there weren’t any noises to be held back when she was convinced she liked blokes. It made it easy to talk any guy into letting her stay the night so she could escape her mother for a little while. Later on, when she’d finally figured out about the world of smooth skin and soft curves, she’d had to hold back to hide. She’d become an expert at biting the delicate skin of her lower lip the the most desperate of times if it meant she could stay wrapped around some beautiful girl while her parents slumbered soundly in the next room. Something told Franky that dear old ma and da wouldn’t be too keen on what they were really “studying” behind that closed door. Then, in Wentworth, it was all about protection. She’d stop any groan before it managed to escape by tossing her arm over her face. Any sound after lockdown would have meant a fortnight’s stay in the slot and an automatic move to a different unit for her current distraction. Sure made the time go by faster, at least. Otherwise it was the same shit on a different day.

And then there was Gidget. The answer that Franky didn’t know she needed. That spunky chick that could see right through her facade, and break her down. She was first person that she had really trusted in a long time. She was always making the brunette’s pipe dreams come true from the instant they met outside the gates. Hot girl, hot car. It was unreal. Things like this didn’t happen to Franky Doyle. Ever. But here she was three months into her parole, spending her days working a job she could be proud of, and her nights were spent with the beautiful blonde tucked in her arms. Then when they made love, Franky still remained silent for fear she’d wake up, and her golden girl would be gone.

It’s wasn’t as if Bridget couldn't tell that Franky enjoyed their time between the sheets. She relished in watching the brunette’s fingers twitch and hips raise off the bed. Hearing her inhale sharply when Bridget traced over any sensitive areas made her weak in the knees. What she didn’t understand was why on earth the olive-skinned woman wouldn’t just fucking make some noise for her? Somehow it had become some type of unspoken competition for the blonde. Psychologist Bridget would be all over-analyzing her feelings of insecurity with a younger woman, and blah, blah, blah. She knew deep down it was just because she was stubborn, and she really wanted to hear what Franky sounded like when she let go fully. She wanted to be the one that could make it happen.

One night, Bridget decided that enough was enough.

She had found herself posed in her new favorite spot. Her entire form, save for her toes, was hidden underneath the smooth bedsheet. Her pointed feet poked out to try and regulate her body temperature from her safe haven. Even after their numerous encounters, Franky felt more comfortable under the protective layer of the bedsheet. Bridget didn't mind as long as she was able to spend some time between the gorgeous woman’s delicious thighs. Her blonde locks were pulled back hastily in a bun towards the crown of her head. Several strands towards the nape of her neck had fallen loose because of Franky’s gentle coaxing hand. Bridget could tell by the rotations of the brunette’s hips as her fingers curled inside her that Franky was dangerously close from toppling over into a shuddering and silent climax. She glanced up through the small opening in the sheet to see the younger woman's eyes slammed shut with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Bridget pulled her lips away from her love’s wetness only to slide her fingers from Franky’s pulsing opening.
Propelled by instinct, Franky’s hand reached towards Bridget's in order to coax the woman back inside her without having to speak a word. Bridget swatted the incoming hand away and stayed posed with her two fingertips circling over and over causing the brunette’s hips to shudder.
“C’mon baby, make some noise. I wanna hear you moan for me,” she coaxed with a few wet kisses to an olive toned thigh. Franky released a shaky little breath in response. Progress, Bridget thought, but not quite enough. She brushed her lips over Franky's swollen clitoris. Almost instantly, the brunette’s fingers fumbled in search of Bridget’s free hand. Once they managed to find each other, their hands laced together allowing franky to squeeze the other.

“Gidge please-” Franky whimpered desperately. Her hips practically raised off the bed begging bridget to sink her fingers inside her. Fuck, she was so close! Bridget teased the poor woman by allowing the digits to enter agonizingly slow until they curled upwards to brush against her sensitive wall. “Ohhh fuck!” Franky gasped lowly as Bridget’s lips and fingers worked together sending her higher and higher towards a shuddering climax.

Suddenly Bridget couldn't believe her ears. While she rode her girlfriend through endless wave after wave of pleasure, Franky’s sweet little moans became louder and louder until they could no longer be described as little or sweet.

The sounds piercing the air were completely raw. Roughly, her hand ripped the stifling sheet from on top of them giving her an unobstructed view of Bridget’s fingers thrusting into her glistening slit. Blinking, the blonde looked up to lock her blue eyes with the deep jade of her lover’s causing Franky to implode. The loud moan that escaped her throat was music to Bridget's ears.

Franky’s embarrassment settled over her like a wave of sheer terror. Instantly her hands were covering her blushing face.

“Hey, I was going to kiss that,” Bridget pouted as she settled gracefully on her elbow next to her young love. Instead she brought her lips down to kiss over her sternum.

“Yellow,” Franky murmured keeping her face shielded. The word set Bridget into motion giving its speaker the space she requested. Bridget knew even non-D/s couples could benefit from using safewords. Especially since Franky was still adjusting to life on the outside of Wentworth and a life inside a healthy relationship. Her PTSD was still there below the surface after all the atrocities she had experienced.

“Take your time, just be sure to breathe,” she reminded gently, watching nearby while her love coaxed air into her lungs. Bridget couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face. Her girl was making so much progress from where she had first begun.

After a few minutes of the two of them breathing in rhythmic silence, Franky brought her hands down from her face.

“Sorry,” she blushed softly.

“Don't apologize, better now? Can I touch you?” Bridget’s blue eyes searched her partner’s for any hint of anxiety. Franky’s hands reached to pull her in until she was resting comfortably against her chest. Bridget allowed her hand to trace over the exposed skin of Franky's bare breasts and toned stomach.

“Thank you, sorry. Got overwhelmed there for a second.” Franky explained with a kiss to the top of Bridget’s messy hair.

“You sure?” She double checked.

“Defs sure, Gidget. I've just never felt safe enough to let go like that before,” the brunette admitted sheepishly. “I'm not usually a loud one.” Her lips pressed against Bridget's mess of hair, inhaling the scent lavender and honey. Bridget's signature.

“Believe me when I say the pleasure was all mine. I'm happy you feel safe here, this is your home too you know. Feel free to make as much noise as you want.” Bridget’s short fingernails trailed along Franky's forearm that was wrapped around her.

“Ah, that must explain why you go off like a rocket every time. You feel comfortable with me right here?” Franky’s teasing came out with a delightful little giggle as she pushed a wriggling Bridget onto her back. Suddenly she could feel the rolling tilt of Franky's hips pressing against her heated center. Bridget was unable to hold back her moan in response causing Franky’s devilish smirk to return to her face.