“Yes. Oh, god. Yes.”
Isabel shivered as she felt Victoria get closer to release. “Yes,who? Who’s filling this sweet pussy?”
Isabel picked up the pace, slamming down and curving toward the g-spot. She needed Victoria to lose it. She wanted her to beg.
“Oh, god. Oh. Isabel. Yes.” Victoria’s knees began to give out as she came around Isabel’s fingers. Isabel shivered, knowing she wanted more. So much more.
7
VICTORIA
Victoria woke in darkness.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
The familiar hum of her own HVAC system was missing, replaced by the faint rattle of an ancient air conditioner lodged in a window somewhere nearby. The sheets beneath her were soft but unfamiliar, warm with the faint scent of someone else’s detergent and something subtler—skin and perfume, leather and whiskey.
Then she felt the heat at her side.
She didn’t immediately turn her head but stared ahead at the thin slats of the blinds, at the fractured beams of yellow light spilling in from the streetlamp outside. The light broke the dark into narrow bands that stretched across the foot of the bed, climbing the far wall and striping the floor.
Her breathing was steady. Her pulse was not.
Slowly, she let herself glance over her shoulder.
Isabel lay on her stomach, one arm bent beneath the pillow, her face turned away. The blanket was tangled around her hips, leaving the long, lean line of her bare back exposed to the cool air. In the fractured light, her skin was all warm bronze andshadow, the curve of her shoulder catching the glow before it disappeared into darkness again.
She was snoring. Quietly, almost imperceptibly. A soft, uneven sound, nothing like the easy laughter that had poured out of her last night or the low, heated voice that had dismantled every last defense Victoria thought she had.
The memory of that voice—and the way it had spoken her name—hit with enough force to make her throat tighten.
She’d had let go.
Completely.
It was so unlike her, so against every hard-earned habit, that she’d hardly recognized herself in those moments. She hadn’t just let Isabel touch her—she had surrendered, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between them but skin and heat and a dangerous, exhilarating loss of control.
And she’d liked it.
God help her, she’d liked it more than she would ever admit.
That was the problem.
Victoria swallowed, her gaze fixed on the slow, steady rise and fall of Isabel’s back. She’d been with women who were like herself—controlled, careful, holding the reins as tightly as she did. And she’d been with women who were softer, gentler, who followed her lead without question.
But Isabel was neither.
Isabel didn’t just challenge her—she took the challenge for herself. She was direct, unflinching, and last night she had been…
Victoria shut her eyes, exhaling through her nose.
Dominant.
The word sat heavy in her mind. It wasn’t one she’d ever applied to herself outside the walls of the precinct, but it was certainly one she’d claimed, unspoken, in every relationship she’d had. She led. Always. That was her role. Her comfort zone.
Last night was the first time she hadn’t led.
And it hadterrifiedher.
