The grand dining room in Deborah Vance’s palatial Las Vegas mansion was as extravagant as one would expect. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, and the long mahogany table was polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the faces of her team as they settled in. In an elegant cream pantsuit, Deborah sat at the head of the table, her presence commanding the room without effort.
And then there was Ava.
She wasn’t doing anything remarkable, just leaning back in her chair, sipping on some overpriced sparkling water that Deborah insisted on stocking. Her Moleskine journal is open on her leg. But it wasn’t about what Ava was doing; no, what she was doing was so blatantly boring; it was about what she was wearing.
Levi jeans.
Specifically, a pair that hugged her hips in a way that made Deborah’s pulse hitch, a fit so perfect it was like they had been stitched onto her body by the denim gods themselves. The deep blue fabric stretched just enough, making Ava’s long legs look even longer, and Deborah, ever the composed professional, was losing her mind internally. She crossed her legs and focused (to be honest there was no chance in hell she was going to focus) on whatever Marcus was droning on about. Something about a brand partnership? A comedy festival in Montreal? It didn’t matter. What mattered was Ava shifting in her seat, the denim creasing and flexing, teasing Deborah’s already dwindling self-control.
“Deb, what do you think?” Marcus asked.
Deborah snapped her gaze to him. “Hmm?”
“The festival? We need to give them an answer soon.”
Deborah cleared her throat and glanced down at her perfectly manicured nails as if she had been deep in thought. “Right, yes. Let’s go ahead with it.”
Ava just smirked, shifting again, her knee brushing against Deborah’s under the table. The brief contact sent a thrill through Deborah’s spine, but she refused to react. This woman was going to be the death of her. Ava gently drummed her thumbs on the open paper, “You alright Deb?”
“Fine.” Deborah snapped,
The meeting wrapped up with the usual pleasantries, her team trickling out one by one until only Ava remained, still in those damn jeans, still making Deborah’s mind spiral into places she really shouldn’t be going. Originally the secrecy of it all was thrilling. Sneaking glances and touches were exhilarating. It was all fun and fucking games until Ava wears those Levi Jeans and a top so short and so tight Deborah can see a sliver of silky skin peak out. “You okay, boss?” Ava teased, standing and stretching, her arms lifting just enough to expose a sliver of skin above the waistband of those jeans.
Deborah inhaled sharply, smoothing a hand over her pants. “Fine. Just wondering why you chose to wear those.”
Ava grinned, wiggling her hips slightly. “Oh, you like these?”
Deborah scoffed, standing and walking past her, resisting the very real urge to grab her by the belt loops and pull her in. “They’re fine. Very... standard.”
Ava laughed, following her. “That’s a lie. I saw you staring.”
Deborah tossed her a sharp look over her shoulder. “I don’t stare.”
“Right, sure,” Ava said, smirking as they moved toward the kitchen. “And I don’t make bad life choices.” Ava slapped her ass on the way out of the room.
Later that night, the two of them found themselves in the kitchen. Deborah, despite her immense wealth, actually enjoyed cooking when she had the time, and tonight she had the perfect excuse: just her, Ava, and the hum of soft music playing in the background—Beyoncé’s voice slipping through the speakers like velvet.
You call me pretty little thing, and I love to turn him on. Boy, I'll let you be my Levi's jeans so you can hug that ass all day long.
Deborah arched a brow as Ava swayed slightly, singing along under her breath while chopping vegetables. “Fitting song choice,” Deborah remarked.
Ava smirked. “It’s fate.” Deborah shook her head but let herself enjoy the moment the easy banter, the way Ava fit into her space so seamlessly. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, her gaze dropped back to those jeans. “I need the olive oil,” Ava said, reaching for the bottle on the counter.
Deborah, acting on sheer impulse, reached for it at the same time, her hand landing on Ava’s waist instead. The contact was electric. Warm. And for a split second, neither of them moved. Ava turned to her, eyes flickering with something dangerous. “Deb.”
Deborah swallowed, her fingers twitching against the denim. “What?”
“You’re obsessed.”
Deborah scoffed but didn’t pull away. “With what?”
Ava leaned in, her voice dropping. “With these jeans. With me in these jeans.” There it was—that cocky smirk, the one that both infuriated and completely unraveled Deborah all at once. Then, as if to prove her point, Ava grabbed Deborah’s hands and slid them to her hips, pressing them there.
Deborah exhaled slowly, letting her thumbs graze the fabric, appreciating the way it hugged Ava’s curves. “They’re... fine,” she muttered, her voice lower than intended. Deborah’s eyes gave her away as they remained cast down on the denim.
Ava grinned. “You wanna take ‘em off me?”
Deborah let out a soft chuckle, tilting her head. “You think I’m that easy?”
Ava leaned in, pressing a whisper of a kiss to Deborah’s forehead before pulling away with a teasing glint in her eye.
Come here, you sexy little thing. Snap a picture, bring it on. Oh, you wish you were my Levi's jeans, the way it's poppin' out your phone.
Deborah laughed, shaking her head as she finally turned back to the stove, but not before giving Ava’s hip one last squeeze. “Finish chopping, troublemaker.”
Love you down to the bone.
Ava, still smirking, turned back to the cutting board, her knife moving methodically. But Deborah could tell from the way her shoulders shook slightly that she was grinning. And damn it, so was she.
Baby, you play too much (you play too much)
Sendin' me super shots (shots)
I'm lookin' super hot (I'm hot)
I got the perfect pose (she snappin')
After a few minutes, Deborah turned so she could peer over Ava’s shoulder. Deborah pressed herself flush against Ava’s body, enjoying the way Ava’s jean-clad ass felt against her linen pants. Deborah nuzzled into Ava’s neck, making sure Ava had put the knife down before she whispered, “I’m gonna play with the waistband of your boxers when I say this.”
I'm a fuckin' animal (she sexy)
I'm a fuckin' centerfold (she rep it)
Saddle up, I love to go (saddle up, I love to go)
Ava froze, then shot Deborah a warning look. “Oh, you are really pushing it tonight.” Ava just winked, her fingers dancing along the top of her jeans before she turned back to her task, humming along to the song still playing softly in the background. Then, as if her hands had a mind of their own, Deborah reached out, hooked two fingers into the waistband of Ava’s Calvin Kleins, and gave them a sharp snap. Ava gasped as she felt Deborah’s hands linger just in the waistband a little longer. Deborah moved to stand next to Ava, keeping one hand on Ava’s waistband as she continued to run her fingertips over the Calvin Klein lettering.
Ava sucked in a breath, her grip tightening on the edge of the counter. “Deb,” she warned, her voice not nearly as firm as she intended. It came out lower, rougher—betraying just how much she liked this game.
Too good, no prima donna
Possess too much persona
He said, "Where you get that from, uh?
You need to meet my mama"
She'd be at church all day (all day)
Come be my Nick at Nite (night, night, night, night)
So we can run it back (back, back, back, back)
It'll be nostalgia-like (like, like, like, like) eh
Deborah hummed in amusement, dragging her fingers just a little lower, teasing the skin beneath the fabric. “Hmm?” she asked innocently, her eyes dancing with mischief as she tilted her head to watch Ava’s reaction. “Something wrong?”
Ava turned to face her fully, her expression half exasperated, half wrecked with something far more dangerous. “You’re a menace,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into Deborah’s touch, letting her body mold against hers in a way that made Deborah’s breath hitch.
Deborah smirked. “And yet, you love it.”
Every time I see you, I just wanna grab you (you, you)
And I let you touch it, and you can't let it loose (oh, oh)
Mocha-choka latte caramel, oh, I act a fool
Every hour on the hour, this is waitin' for you
Ava bit her lip as if she were about to argue, but then Deborah tugged at her waistband again this time slower, deliberate. A sharp breath left Ava’s lips, and that was all the confirmation Deborah needed. For a moment, the kitchen faded the simmering pot on the stove, the half-chopped vegetables, even the song still playing in the background. It was just them, the tension thrumming between them, thick and intoxicating. Deborah leaned in, her lips ghosting over Ava’s ear. “Tell me to stop,” she murmured, her fingers still teasing along the band of Ava’s boxers.
Ava exhaled shakily. “You know I won’t.”
That was all Deborah needed to hear. In one swift movement, she spun Ava around, pinning her gently against the counter. Ava gasped, but it wasn’t in protest. No, the gleam in her eyes was all the encouragement Deborah needed. “You talk a big game,” Deborah murmured, tracing her fingers down the front of Ava’s jeans, teasing her without giving her what she wanted.
Ava swallowed, her hands gripping the counter behind her. “I back it up, too,” she challenged.
Deborah grinned. “We’ll see about that.” Then, slowly, she began to undo the button of Ava’s jeans, her fingers moving with the kind of precision that came from years of knowing exactly how to take her time.
Ava let out a shaky laugh. “You are so—”
But whatever she was about to say died in her throat the moment Deborah’s fingers brushed against bare skin.
You call me pretty little thing
And I love to turn him on
Boy, I'll let you be my Levi's jeans
So you can hug that ass all day long (ass all day long)
Come here, you sexy little thing
Snap a picture, bring it on
Oh, girl, I wish I was your Levi's jeans
The way you're poppin' out my phone
I love you down to the bone
And just like that, the game was over. Ava's hand snapped her hand up grabbing Deborah she turned them pressing Deborah against the island. She no longer cared about dinner. She was ready to feast. In one swift motion, she grabbed Deborah by the hips and lifted her onto the kitchen island, stepping between her legs. The cool marble contrasted with the warmth of Deborah’s skin as she let out a small gasp of surprise, quickly masked by a teasing grin. Ava made quick work of Deborah’s blouse, unbuttoning it with a controlled urgency, pushing it off her shoulders to reveal the soft lace beneath. Her hands ghosted down Deborah’s sides, reveling in the way her body responded to the touch. Deborah, in turn, reached for Ava’s waistband again, fingers deftly. But before she could push them down, Ava caught her wrist, shaking her head with a slow, knowing smirk.
“Patience,” she murmured, stepping back just enough to rid herself of the shirt she still wore, letting it fall to the floor. Then, with deliberate slowness, she slid her jeans down her hips, leaving herself in nothing but her Calvin Kleins. “Jeans stay on.”
Deborah’s eyes darkened, gaze sweeping over the toned lines of Ava’s body, the way the waistband of her boxers sat low on her hips, teasing, taunting. Ava stepped forward again, pressing herself against Deborah’s parted thighs, hands braced on either side of her. Deborah swallowed, her hands moving instinctively to Ava’s waist, fingers tracing the elastic band. “Look at you,” she murmured, voice lower now, more serious.
Ava smirked, leaning in until their lips nearly brushed. “You’re one to talk.”
Deborah hummed, her grip tightening. “And you love it.”
Ava chuckled, letting her fingers drift lower, teasing against the inside of Deborah’s thighs. “Maybe.”
The tension stretched between them, electric and unrelenting. The only sounds in the kitchen were their uneven breaths, the soft hum of the music, and the distant simmer of something forgotten on the stove. Deborah arched a brow, her nails dragging along the exposed skin of Ava’s back. “Are you gonna just stand there looking pretty, or are you gonna do something about it?”
Ava grinned. “Oh, sweetheart-” she slid her hands to Deborah’s thighs, spreading them just a little wider, pressing herself even closer, their bodies flush against each other “-you have no idea what you just asked for.”
And then, with a slow, teasing kiss at the base of Deborah’s throat, she got to work. Once Deborah was bare Ava took a slow step back, eyes raking over Deborah’s bare body like she was something to be worshipped. And maybe she was. Deborah sat on the kitchen island, legs spread just enough to invite, to challenge. The way the dim light kissed her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in anticipation it sent a deep ache through Ava’s body.
“You’re staring,” Deborah murmured, tilting her head, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.
Ava wet her lips, fingers twitching at her sides. “Can you blame me?”
Deborah chuckled a low, sultry sound that made Ava’s stomach clench. “Are you just gonna look,” she reached forward, hooking her fingers into Ava’s waistband once more, tugging her closer, “or are you gonna touch?”
Ava let out a breath, stepping in between Deborah’s legs, hands finding purchase at her hips, then her waist, then her ribs, fingertips exploring like they had all the time in the world. Ava moved to nibble under Deborah's jaw, “both,”
Baby, you know I'm on my bullshit (bullshit), I'll let you ride it
Rodeo in your room, that shoot breaks loose with perfect timin' (perfect timin')
Love it when you tease me in them jeans, girl, you don't need designer
And when that thing on hydroplane, baby girl, you the pilot
Deborah sighed at the contact, her own hands skimming Ava’s stomach, tracing the faint lines there before slipping under the waistband of her Calvin Kleins. Ava groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before she refocused, gripping Deborah’s thighs and pulling her forward until their bodies were impossibly flush, the heat between them unmistakable.
“I want—” Ava started, voice raspier now, but Deborah cut her off with a slow, deep kiss that stole the air from her lungs. Deborah’s fingers danced over the band of Ava’s boxers, teasing but never quite giving, driving her to the brink of frustration and something much sweeter. “You’re enjoying this,” Ava managed to whisper between kisses.
Deborah grinned against her lips. “What gave me away?” Ava growled, before she gave a slap to Deborah's hot center. Gripping Deborah’s thighs tighter as she leaned in, lips trailing down her jaw, her neck,and the curve of her shoulder. Deborah’s breath hitched, and that sound—God, that sound—made Ava lose the last bit of restraint she had. Ava leaned down as Deborah leaned back on the cool surface of the kitchen island, her bare skin prickling at the contrast between heat and chill. Her breath hitched as Ava’s lips hovered just above her own, teasing, waiting.
“You’re so damn smug,” Deborah whispered, her fingers curling into Ava’s belt loops, tugging her just a little closer.
Ava smirked. “You love it.”
Deborah opened her mouth to argue, but Ava cut her off with a slow, searing kiss, pressing their bodies together. The rough denim of Ava’s jeans against Deborah’s bare thighs sent a delicious shiver through her, and she arched into the contact. Ava’s hands slid up Deborah’s sides, fingers tracing every dip and curve, memorizing her shape of her. When her lips left Deborah’s mouth, they traveled lower along her jaw, down the column of her throat—until Ava reached the spot that made Deborah exhale sharply, her grip tightening. “You’re sensitive here,” Ava murmured against her skin, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below her collarbone.
Deborah’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re awfully observant.”
Ava chuckled, nipping lightly at the spot, making Deborah’s hips shift against her. “It’s my favorite thing about you.”
Deborah arched a brow, opening her eyes. “My neck?”
Ava grinned, dragging her lips lower. “The way you react.”
And I ramble on, I could go on, but I'm goin' on silent (I'm goin' on silent)
So hop out the phone and bring that shit on 'cause I'm goin' nosedive (I'm goin' nosedive)
And every time you know just what to do (mm)
No one ever got me going quite like you
A shudder ran through Deborah as Ava’s hands finally moved one slipping behind her back, steadying her, while the other trailed lower, teasing, promising. Deborah’s breath hitched. “Ava—” Ava hummed in response, her mouth exploring, her fingers tightening their grip just enough to make Deborah gasp.
Baby, let me rattle that snake with my venom
Denim on denim, on denim, on denim
Give you high fashion in a simple white tee
Give you these blues, it's in my jeans
And on my sister, on Celestine
God light shinin' through the in-between
Thigh gap saddle, his leather seats
The kitchen was forgotten the simmering pot, the half-chopped vegetables, the music still playing softly in the background. All that mattered was this the heat, the tension, the slow, deliberate way Ava took her time. And when Ava finally looked up, eyes dark and full of wicked intent, Deborah knew one thing for sure. She was completely at Ava’s mercy. It was beyond anything Deborah had ever experienced. She was sure Ava was ready to swallow her whole. Ava was a woman starved. Tonight Deborah laid out Ava feasted like it may be her last. Deborah's chest heaved and her arm was thrown over her eyes as she hummed with pleasure. Her body began thrashing gently on the granite. Ava sensing Deborah's discomfort with a swift motion, she lifted Deborah off the counter, hands firm against her bare skin, carrying her effortlessly through the kitchen. Deborah gasped, wrapping her legs around Ava’s waist. “Where—”
Come on, you pretty little thing
Girl, I wanna take you home
You know I'd like to be your Levi's jeans (I'll be your Levi's jeans)
So I can hug that ass all day long (oh, baby, hold me all day long)
Come here, you sexy little thing (come here, you sexy little thing)
Snap a picture, bring it on (snap a picture, bring it on)
Oh, girl, I wish I was your Levi's jeans
The way you're poppin' out my phone
I love you down to the bone
“The bedroom,” Ava murmured against her ear, voice dark with promise.
Deborah chuckled, nipping at Ava’s jaw. “About time.”
And with that, Ava carried her down the hall, determined to finish what they started.
Ooh, I love you, baby, yeah, you drive me crazy
Need you all night long, you're my Renaissance
Baby, lovin' you, that's all I see
In this crazy world, you're the best of things