Queen of Love

Aya slowly removed her jacket and hung it on the closet door handle. Her arms were now free to grab Genevieve and give her that kiss she wanted.

It absolutely pleases me. Aya couldn’t say what had gone through Genevieve’s mind that past week, but Aya had enjoyed replaying last Saturday in her mind as often as she dared. Sometimes at work. Always when she went to bed and was alone with her thoughts.

Genevieve’s naked body danced in her head, much like the woman now undulated in Aya’s grasp. There was enough power in their kiss to fuel the next few days – who needed food or drink when a single kiss did the trick? There isn’t a part of her that isn’t perfect. Aya didn’t have a particular type. She liked women of all types and creeds, but there was something about Genevieve’s long torso and slender hips that made Aya want to push her up against the closet and wrap those silky legs around her waist.

She had a feeling that’s what Genevieve wanted, too. For a woman who was used to having her way in life, she was more than happy to let someone else take the lead in the bedroom, wasn’t she?

Was she the same in relationships, though? Particularly, more serious ones?

“Ah…” Genevieve’s heavy-lidded eyes snapped open as her arms faltered around Aya’s shoulders. Aya may not have been strong enough to carry Genevieve to bed, but she had enough heft in her body to lift Genevieve’s feet off the floor. As soon as those legs were snug around her waist, Aya thrust forward, hands gathering the bottom of Genevieve’s sweater dress and pulling it up over her hips. “Yes…”

Genevieve exposed her throat to Aya’s hungry mouth. Yet as Aya attempted to tear away the collar with her teeth, she encountered something strapped around Genevieve’s throat. Some kind of necklace that required Aya to redirect her attention to the crevice between two concealed breasts.

I’ve never felt so… primal… before. Aya had been with women who made her lusty and hormonal before, yes, but something about Genevieve’s fashion and demeanor practically demanded that Aya transform into the magnanimous beast who had spent most of her life becoming queen of the jungle. Nothing stands in my way when I’m with this woman. Nothing like clothes, that was for sure. As soon as Aya had the bottom half of that sweater dress up around Genevieve’s stomach, things were as simple as thrusting against the leggings separating her pants from her partner’s mound.

“Do you want another lesson?” Aya’s hands snaked beneath the dress, one grabbing Genevieve’s ass while the other hunted her breasts. I’m the queen of this jungle. Nothing stays away from my paws for long. “Now’s your chance before I forget how to speak English.”

”Is that often a problem with you?” Genevieve raised her arms, pulling her own dress over her head. Her bra was laughably sexual. Between the two boosted breasts and the crazy black lace offering a picture-perfect view of her hard nipples, it was almost like she had dressed to entice Aya into bed. Again.

The dress landed on one of Aya’s feet. She kicked it aside with little pomp. “I might become someone you don’t recognize. Like a terrible force who doesn’t understand the word no anymore.”

Genevieve bit her lip. Her hair clouded her face as she attempted to bring her chin closer to Aya’s. Kissing her through that mane of black hair wasn’t the problem – it was hearing what she had to say.

“I don’t mind. In fact, I love the idea of a woman who doesn’t understand the word no.”

You say that… Aya knew a trap when she smelled it.

“I’m not some flower,” Genevieve continued, her thighs rubbing against Aya’s waist. “I can take anything you throw at me. Anything.”

Was that a challenge? A dare? Aya wished she knew, but already her English was leaving her. It’s not like my imagination is that great, anyway. Woman. Bed. Sex. It didn’t get much better than that.

“All right.” Aya pulled Genevieve off the wall and waited for those delicate feet to land back on the floor. “Here’s your next lesson: beddo ni tobe nasai.”

Genevieve’s lingering gaze was enough to betray how little she still knew of Japanese. Get on the bed. Now. So what if Aya had been a bit more polite with her words? It was the tone that counted, and Genevieve soon got the clue as she wandered toward the bed and climbed on, her leggings beginning their grand journey down her thighs.

You don’t need these. As Genevieve gasped in assent, Aya pulled off those leggings and tossed them onto the floor before climbing on the bed and making herself at home between both sprawling legs.

“How good is your naughty vocabulary?” Aya whispered in Genevieve’s ear before lightly grazing it with her teeth.

Those legs were once again like a vise around her body. “Woefully small. Teach me everything.”

“So these right here,” Aya said, hardly holding herself back as pinched one of Genevieve’s nipples through her bra. “These are your chikubi. They are very, very…” There it went. Her English. “Hoshii.”

“Does that mean pretty? Sexy?”

“It means I want them.” Aya dipped her head down, her teeth biting the lace separating her from Genevieve’s nipple. As the woman beneath her writhed in sudden pleasure, Aya’s tongue dipped beneath the lace and ensured that at least one nipple was harder than it had any right to be. She’ll never forget this word now. Or the word Aya was about to teach her as her knuckles caressed the inside of Genevieve’s thigh. “Momo. I want them more.”

“I thought momo was peach?”

Now, don’t tell me she doesn’t realize words can have more than one meaning. Aya slapped the ass beneath her hand. “Like this, right? Quite the peach.”

“You’re joking!”

“Actually, the same kanji means mata, which is all of this.” It gave Aya a great excuse to put her hands all over Genevieve’s groin, from her subtle thighs to the slit concealed beneath her underwear. They weren’t as fancy as her bra, but they told a story Aya could hardly forget.

Especially when she pulled them off and let her tongue do the talking.

She couldn’t help herself. The moment Genevieve’s scent hit her brain, she was that primal woman again. I don’t need humanity when I’m with her. Some women smoked. Others drank every night. Women like Aya only needed a hit of Genevieve’s essence to make them wild and free for the next few hours. Even if that meant dragging her tongue along the length of Genevieve’s masterfully groomed slit.