Chapter 9 #2
The realization sent something sharp through Catherine’s chest, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
This was her choice.
Her move.
She inhaled slowly, then reached out.
Her fingers brushed against Sloane’s jaw, tilting her chin up just enough to meet her gaze.
And then, without hesitation, Catherine closed the distance and kissed her.
The moment Catherine kissed her, something inside her shifted. It wasn’t frantic like before, nor was it fueled by the desperate need to escape herself. It was slower, deeper, something she couldn’t name but felt in every nerve of her body.
Her hands curled into the fabric of Sloane’s shirt, pulling her closer, but there was no force behind it, just a quiet surrender.
Sloane reached for Catherine’s hand, threading their fingers together, a silent question lingering between them.
Catherine didn’t pull away.
She let Sloane guide her through the dimly lit gallery, through the back entrance, up the narrow stairs to the loft above.
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’s body 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.
Two fingers 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.
“Is this ok?” Catherine asked.
“More than ok,” Sloane gasped her voice hazy with desire. “It feels incredible. You feel incredible.”
Catherine smiled. “No, you feel incredible on my hand,” Catherine said. “I can feel your body pulsing around my hand, welcoming me deep inside you.”
Catherine moved her hand a little, in and out testing what felt good for Sloane. She was still on top of Sloane, above her, watching her face with every movement of her hand inside.
“Oh, that’s good, really good,” Sloane groaned. “You can fuck me a bit with your hand, you know? Just go slow, real slow, drag your hand out and then press it back in. I love the feeling of it pressing into me. I love the feeling of opening for you.”
Catherine nodded, enjoying taking direction from someone who clearly knew her own body and what she wanted. She worked slowly, dragging her hand out and then watching Sloane look like she would tip over the edge as she pressed her whole hand back inside her.
“Oh fuuuuuuckkkk,” Sloane cried out.
Catherine felt Sloane’s right hand reaching between their bodies her fingers seeking out her own clitoris and she lifted her own hips to allow Sloane access.
“That’s it, touch yourself. I want you to come with my hand deep inside you.”
She felt Sloane’s hand moving between them against her own clitoris and she felt utterly turned on by it all. She felt the feeling of Sloane’s pussy deep inside beginning to change and tighten. She noticed Sloane’s breathing change and her eyes becoming hazy.
“Look in my eyes and come for me,” Catherine said as she pressed her hand slowly into Sloane once again.
Sloane’s orgasm was massive. Catherine felt it crushing and pulsing against her hand. She felt the flood of hot wet liquid as Sloane’s pleasure squirted out of her.
She felt Sloane’s body go slack beneath her, Catherine’s hand still buried deep.
Catherine felt more turned on than she ever had in her life and she had an insatiable desire to take her own orgasm while her hand was still inside Sloane.
She rocked back until she was sitting up on her knees straddling Sloane’s thigh, pressing her wet pussy tight against Sloane’s thigh. She was still looking in Sloane’s eyes enjoying watching them come back to life.
“Can I?” Catherine asked, grinding her pussy down on Sloane’s leg, awaiting permission.
Sloane nodded eagerly. “Keep your hand inside me while you come, Catherine.”
Catherine could feel the after pulses of Sloane’s orgasm around her hand as she ground her clitoris against Sloane’s thigh. It was barely any time at all before her own orgasm rushed through her like a tsunami, all powerful and destructive, taking everything in its path.
And one thing she hadn’t expected or ever experienced before was the rush of liquid between her own legs over Sloane’s thigh. Catherine was acutely aware she had just squirted when she came, but the thought didn’t horrify her.
This was different with Sloane. Catherine was more sexually present than she ever had been.
For the first time in her life, Catherine let go.
Catherine slowly and steadily withdrew her hand watching Sloane’s now peaceful face as she did. She collapsed onto the bed next to Sloane and Sloane embraced her and held her close.
At some point, Catherine whispered Sloane’s name against her lips, and Sloane responded by tightening her grip, pulling her closer, like she never wanted to let go.
Catherine didn’t realize how much she needed that. How much she wanted to be held.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever until Catherine could no longer think, until there was nothing left between them but this—the push and pull, the heat and softness, the quiet surrender that Catherine had never allowed herself before.
They lay there still, their bodies tangled in sheets and moonlight and Sloane brushed a hand over Catherine’s cheek, her thumb tracing gently along her jaw.
Catherine exhaled, her chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. She should leave. She should say something sharp to put distance back between them. She should do anything but what she did next.
She let herself relax into Sloane’s warmth.
Let her fingers rest over the steady beat of Sloane’s heart.
Let herself stay.
Because for the first time, she didn’t want to run.