Chapter 7 #5
Lena reached up and swiped it away and tucked a red tress behind her ears. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered as the wave of pleasure continued to crescendo within her.
When she felt Erin’s body begin to shudder, her own climax was close and every muscle in her body tensed as she cried out and threw her head back hard against the golden pillows. Their screams mixed together, and Lena didn’t loosen her grip on Erin’s hips through her orgasm.
Erin slipped the dildo out of Lena then from herself, placing the toys on top of the table, and crawled back into the bed. Lena wiped away the sweat from her forehead as she tried to catch her breath.
“Here, turn around,” Erin said softly, then removed the plug from Lena’s ass and reached over to place it on the table next to the others to clean later.
Lena wrapped her arms around Erin, still feeling her body pulse from within. She let her breathing sync with Erin’s as they came down from the pleasure together.
“So, how did you like that?” Erin asked, her voice softened.
Lena paused. She’d never felt anything so amazing in her life. It was perfect, and Erin somehow just knew exactly what Lena wanted. “You were incredible. I’ve never used so many toys at once before, and all the sensations were… Yeah, it was amazing.”
Lena settled and nuzzled against Erin, filling her nostrils with the scent of Erin’s hair as she closed her eyes and drifted.
Later, much later, they lay twisted in sheets that now smelled like both of them, the afternoon sun slanting through the blinds and casting rods of light on the hardwood floor.
"This is definitely becoming a pattern," Lena murmured against Erin's shoulder, tasting salt and satisfaction.
"Mmm." Erin's fingers traced lazy patterns on Lena's back. "Is that a problem?"
Lena considered the question. They had spent four nights in five days together, and text messages that started professionally started drifting toward personal conversations. She thought about the way her chest tightened when Erin smiled and how her apartment felt empty when she was alone.
"I don't know what this is," she said finally. "I've never been good at...undefined things."
"Does it need to be defined right now?"
The question was gentle, without pressure, but it highlighted exactly what made Lena nervous. She was someone who categorized evidence, built cases methodically, and controlled variables to reach predictable conclusions. Whatever was happening with Erin defied her usual organizational systems.
"I..." Lena started, then stopped. The honest answer was yes. She wanted definitions, labels, and clear boundaries that told her what to expect. But she also knew that pushing for clarity might shatter whatever fragile thing they'd built. "I'm scared I'll mess this up if I think about it too hard."
The admission surprised them both. Lena felt Erin's fingers still against her back.
"What if we just...see what happens?" Erin's voice was careful, testing. "No pressure to define anything. Just...this."
Lena lifted her head to look at Erin, finding patience and something that looked dangerously like affection reflected in her eyes. "You're okay with this being undefined?"
"I'm okay with whatever this is, as long as it keeps happening." Erin's honesty was disarming. "Are you?"
The question deserved a real answer, not a quick deflection. Lena thought about her empty apartment, about checking her phone for texts that hadn't arrived yet, about the way her chest tightened every time she thought about the case ending and losing this.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm okay with this."
"Good." Erin's smile was soft, relieved. "Because I was hoping you'd say that."
They lay there for another hour, neither moving, neither willing to break the spell of Sunday afternoon contentment. When Lena finally did leave, it was with the understanding that this—whatever this was—wasn't ending with the weekend.
Monday morning arrived gray and insistent, pulling Lena back to reality with the demanding ring of her alarm clock.
Her apartment now felt hollow after two days of Erin's presence, too quiet and carefully organized.
Even her coffee tasted wrong—too bitter and lacking the warmth that came from shared mornings and sleepy conversations.
She found Erin's hair tie on her bathroom counter, a small elastic band that shouldn't have meant anything but somehow felt significant. Evidence of someone making themselves at home in her space.
The bite mark on her collarbone had faded to a faint shadow, but it still sent heat through her when her shirt brushed against it.
It was a territorial claim that should have felt presumptuous but instead made her touch the spot absently, remembering the moment of possession that had drawn it from Erin's teeth.
This wasn't simple anymore. Maybe it never had been.
Standing in her shower, washing away the last traces of Erin's perfume, Lena realized the admission she'd made yesterday terrified her more than any case she'd ever worked.
She'd told Erin she was okay with "this"—whatever this was—but in the harsh light of Monday morning, the implications of that decision felt overwhelming.
She was supposed to be an expert at keeping work and personal life separate, but Erin had scrambled every system she’d relied on.
And as she dressed for another day of pretending this was manageable, Lena caught herself checking her phone for messages that hadn't arrived yet, already anticipating the moment when she'd see Erin again.