The space was unmistakably Sloane. The scent of paint lingered in the air, mixing with something warmer, something uniquely her. The bed was unmade and the windows were slightly cracked, letting in the crisp night air.
Sloane stood in front of her, waiting. Not pressing. Not taking. Just waiting.
Catherine reached for the lapels of Sloane’s jacket. “I don’t want to think tonight.”
Sloane’s lips curved slightly, but the usual mischief was softened. “Then don’t.”
Catherine kissed her again, and this time, she let herself feel.
Sloane’s hands skimmed the edge of her blouse, her fingers barely brushing against Catherine’s skin, and Catherine shivered, not just from the contact but from the realization that this wasn’t just desire. It was something else, something deeper, something terrifyingly real.
She wasn’t running this time.
She wasn’t using Sloane as a distraction.
She was with her.
And as they moved together, as Sloane’s hands traced patterns along her skin, as their breath tangled and their bodies pressed closer, Catherine knew this wasn’t something she could walk away from.
Not anymore.
Catherine let herself feel everything. The heat of Sloane’s hands, the way her fingertips mapped the edges of Catherine’sbody as if learning her by touch alone. The press of her lips against her throat, the way Sloane kissed like she painted—intentional, full of emotion, capturing something Catherine wasn’t ready to name.
She wasn’t used to this. Not like this.
Before, it had been about escape. About losing herself in sensation, about taking what she needed without offering anything in return. But this? This was something different entirely.
Sloane was giving her time and space. She wasn’t demanding, wasn’t pushing. She let Catherine lead, let her set the pace and decide how far she wanted to fall.
And God, she was falling.
Catherine’s hands slid under Sloane’s shirt, exploring the warmth of her skin, her muscles shifting under her touch. Sloane inhaled sharply, her breath hot against Catherine’s neck. It sent a rush of something heady through her, something she didn’t want to fight. Their clothes came off into a messy pile on the floor.
She pushed Sloane back toward the bed, enjoying the sight as Sloane reclined as though to welcome her home. Sloane’s body was beautiful and open for her. Soft curves for her breasts and her hips, her hair looked dark against the white pillowcase. Catherine watched as she opened her legs, dark red curls on her pubic bone. Catherine wanted her. Really wanted her. She got on the bed and on top of Sloane. Sloane exhaled a low, pleased sound as Catherine settled over her, her weight pressing down in a way that left no space between them.
Catherine’s right hand sought out Sloane’s pussy and she let her fingers slide through the wet folds she found there. Sloane moaned beneath her. There was a thrill to it, Catherine thought to herself, seeing Sloane like this, watching Sloane’s eyelashes flicker as she felt Catherine’s fingers pressing inside her. Twofingers at first and then a third. Catherine felt Sloane opening to take her in. So wet, so warm, so open for her. Catherine added a fourth finger and her arced her fingers upwards as she began to thrust inside of Sloane, her thumb sliding against Sloane’s swollen clitoris.
“Fuck, Catherine, you feel so good. Please, more of this. You feel incredible.” Sloane’s voice was husky with desire and Catherine could see in her face and the way her breathing quickened and hitched how much she was enjoying it.
“You like this?” Catherine asked as she pressed her hand deeper inside Sloane feeling Sloane open for her knuckles.
“Yes, so much.” Sloane gasped and Catherine felt a sense of something else that was possible. Not that she had done it before but she had heard about it.
“Can I give you more?” Catherine asked enjoying the feeling of Sloane around her hand.
Sloane nodded, looking directly into Catherine’s eyes, her pupils so dilated with lust that her eyes looked almost black.
Catherine tucked her thumb in and began to press her whole hand inside of Sloane.
She watched as Sloane’s eyes began to close and her body went limp.
“Eyes on me,” Catherine commanded. She wanted to see Sloane’s eyes as she had her whole hand inside of her.
Sloane’s eyes flicked open, looking once again directly at Catherine as though she had never wanted anyone more in her entire life.
Catherine felt her hand sliding all the way in until only her wrist remained outside of Sloane’s opening.
She felt her fingers curl around into a fist shape.
