She goes down under

The jet lag hit Jill like a freight train, but it was the ache between her legs that finally dragged her into the shower.

She’d only been in Sydney a few hours. The faded art-deco hotel in Kings Cross had thin walls and a view of neon signs flickering against the humid night. Jill stripped off her travel clothes, her tall, athletic frame catching in the full-length mirror. Six foot of toned muscle, broad shoulders, long powerful legs, and heavy DD breasts that still sat high and proud at thirty-three. Her nipples were already stiff from the air-conditioning.

She turned the water on hot and stepped under the spray, letting it cascade over her body. A low moan escaped her as she lathered her long blonde hair, suds sliding down the valley between her breasts. Her hand moved lower, almost on instinct. She’d shaved everything smooth back in London, and the fresh, bare skin felt wickedly sensitive. Two fingers parted her puffy lips, finding her already slick. She pinched one rock-hard nipple and gasped — the sharp jolt of pleasure shot straight to her clit.

“Fuck…” she whispered, bracing one hand against the tiles. She worked herself fast and needy, imagining rough hands instead of her own. Her hips bucked as she came hard, thighs trembling, a soft cry swallowed by the rushing water. It wasn’t enough, but it took the edge off.

An hour later, dressed in tight black jeans and a simple white tank top that did nothing to hide her prominent nipples, Jill pushed through the door of a dimly lit pub in Surry Hills. The place smelled of beer, sweat, and fried food — exactly the kind of gritty local spot she was craving.

She ordered a pint and found a stool at the bar. Two drinks in, a woman slid onto the seat beside her.

“First night in Sydney?” The voice was low, smoky, with a faint Australian accent.

Jill turned. The woman was striking — maybe 5’10”, athletic build, short dark hair shaved on one side, sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes that seemed to strip her bare. She wore a black leather jacket over a tight tank that showed off toned arms and a hint of ink on her collarbone.

“Yeah. Trying to shake off the flight,” Jill replied.

The woman smiled, slow and dangerous. “I’m Kim. You look like you could use some proper trouble.”

They talked easily. Kim bought the next round. There was an instant, electric pull — the kind that made Jill’s nipples tighten again under the thin fabric. Kim’s gaze kept dropping to them, appreciative, almost predatory.

An hour later they were in a back booth, thighs pressed together. Kim leaned in, lips brushing Jill’s ear. “My place is two blocks away. Or yours. Your call, tall girl.”

Jill’s pulse hammered. “Mine.”

Back at the hotel, the door had barely clicked shut before Kim pushed her against it. Their kiss was fierce, all teeth and hunger. Kim’s hands roamed possessively over Jill’s body, cupping her heavy breasts through the tank top and pinching both nipples at once. Jill gasped sharply, knees nearly buckling at the overwhelming sensation.

“Sensitive, aren’t they?” Kim murmured, a dark smile in her voice. She tugged the tank top up and off, exposing Jill’s bare breasts. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Kim dropped to her knees, sucking one aching nipple into her mouth while her hand worked open Jill’s jeans. Two fingers slid through her slick, shaved folds and pushed inside without warning. Jill moaned loudly, hips rocking as Kim finger-fucked her hard and fast against the door.

But Kim wasn’t done testing.

She pulled back suddenly, eyes gleaming. “Heard you’re handy with your fists. That true?”

Jill, breathing hard and dripping down her thighs, smirked. “You want to find out?”

They cleared a space in the small room. Kim stripped down to black boy shorts, revealing a lean, scarred, powerfully built body. They circled each other, naked except for the shorts, tension crackling.

The first exchange was fast. Kim threw a sharp jab. Jill slipped it effortlessly and countered with a crisp combination that sent Kim stumbling back into the bed. Kim laughed — low, impressed — and came at her again. They grappled, bare breasts sliding against sweat-slick skin, powerful thighs straining. Jill used her height and reach to take Kim down, mounting her in a dominant ground position.

Kim bucked hard, reversing them in one explosive movement. Suddenly Jill was on her back with Kim straddling her waist, pinning her wrists above her head.

“Not bad, probationer,” Kim breathed, grinding her hips down. “Best hand-to-hand in your precinct, right?”

Jill froze. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Kim leaned down, biting Jill’s lower lip. “Because I’ve been waiting for you.”

She released one wrist and reached for something on the bedside table — a small folder she must have placed there earlier. She dropped it on Jill’s chest. Inside were photographs: Jill sparring back in the UK, her police file, even grainy shots from the pub tonight.

“I’m your handler,” Kim said calmly, still straddling her, fingers idly circling one of Jill’s hypersensitive nipples. “And you’re going to help us take down some very nasty people. Refuse… and certain evidence about a certain Sergeant Brown and some missing evidence back home might surface.”

Jill stared up at her, chest heaving, body still throbbing with arousal and adrenaline.

Kim smiled, dark and beautiful. “But first… finish what we started.”

She slid down Jill’s body, pushed her strong thighs apart, and buried her tongue between her glistening, shaved lips.