My Inner Dom

By Layla Holiday

Kat Kody loves her Northern Rivers life where there’s always a crime to be solved, mountains to be explored, and her head-turning girlfriend to seduce. But from the moment detective Anna Stone saunters into the station, Kat knows that this woman will be nothing but trouble.

A killer on the loose and a missing girl are not the only challenges Kat Kody faces when forced to work alongside Anna Stone on the bathtub-murder case. Although she’s determined to catch the killer, Kat finds the case haunting her in more ways than one. As fantasy transforms into reality, Kat discovers that she may have perverse things in common with Anna than just the unsolved case.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Holiday
• Release date: Nov 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370354757

Layla Holiday

Award winning—Brazilian based—Australian writer, Layla spends most days writing lesbian erotica by the pool, eating açaí and letting her dirty mind run wild.

Book preview

My Inner Dom

Layla Holiday

Copyright © 2017 Layla Holiday

All rights reserved

Chapter One

Elle’s white t-shirt was still on inside out, but the steamy tent sex we had—just an hour before—already felt like a fading, distant memory.

We walked in silence. Elle focused on the track ahead of us, with her lips slightly pursed and her brow slightly furrowed. It was not exactly what I had in mind when planning her birthday weekend. I loathed the tension between us. I needed to say something soothing. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

I knew it wasn’t just the nightmares upsetting Elle—which started the previous week, after discovering the butchered bathtub-body—it was the fact that I hadn’t, that I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t talk to her.

‘You should have listened to me,’ I wanted to say, ‘back when we first met. I tried to warn you but you didn’t want to hear it.’

‘You with your rose-coloured glasses didn’t want to know about my shameful, depraved past,’ I wanted to tell her like it was her fault this was happening to me. ‘You didn’t want to hear about my debasements, about the tendency I had developed to inflict pain, to ignore safe words, to turn pleasure into torment. You didn’t want to hear about the six months of counselling I’d gone through to get it all under control.’

‘Snap yourself out of it,’ I told myself. ‘It wasn’t Elle’s fault that the bathtub murder had stirred something within me.’

Suddenly, out the corner of my eye, I detected movement in the shrubs. Without thinking, I simultaneously grabbed Elle’s hand, spun on my heel, and, in a crouching position, was glaring suspiciously into the forest.

I spotted the feathered critters and almost laughed at myself. ‘Fuck,’ I thought, ‘this case has got me on