She glares at me with her dress bunched in her tiny fists.
“It’s my job to teach you how to please me, and apparently also yourself, but I’m not going to force you.”
“But we are going to sleep together,” she says, a glint of rebellion in her eyes.
“Naturally. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“No,” she says, unclenching her fingers. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Then trust me.”
“Trust you?” She laughs.
“Trust me with your body. I know what I’m doing.”
“You certainly have the experience,” she throws back at me. “Don’t you?”
Bringing up my experience isn’t going to help win her over. “You’re the most important person in this room. Only your needs matter.”
“I don’t have needs.”
Such a wordy little girl. “Are you going to trust me? You’re only wasting your own time. Whether today, tomorrow, or next week, you will take off your clothes for me and ask me to make you come.”
She narrows her eyes. “I won’t ask to come.”
My smile holds a challenge. “Prove it.”
She glares at me some more but does reach for the zipper of her dress at her back. I don’t offer to help. I sit and watch. That’s my job. It’s showing her how lovely she is.
She pulls the zipper down and pushes the dress from her shoulders and over her hips. Her underwear is chocolate-brown, the same color as the dress. It’s lacy and pretty, but I prefer her naked. She removes the boots and stockings, and then the underwear.
Standing naked in front of me, she asks bitingly, “I’m supposed to need this?”
I take in her firm breasts and pink nipples, her narrow waist, and curved hips. The dark, unshaven triangle between her legs. She’s voluptuous, small but rounded where it matters. “You’re very beautiful, Zoe.”
The pink of her cheeks flares again. “What now, Maxime?”
“Come sit on my lap and tell my what you did while I was away.”
Her lips part. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She pads over uncertainly. When she stops in front of me, I uncross my legs and spread them. Turning sideways, she steps between them. I hook my hands under her arms to lift her onto my thigh, arranging her with her legs draped over the armrest and her back in the crook of my arm.
I brush her curls over her shoulder before trailing my fingers down her arm, keeping the touch light. “Did you explore the house?”
Goosebumps break out over her skin. “Yes.”
I drag my fingers up to her shoulder and back down to her wrist. “Do you like it?” Up, down, and up again. “And no more sass like earlier.”
She shivers a little. “What do you want me to say? You have a nice house. A little spooky, but impressive.”
I smile at the spooky bit, tracing the arch of her neck. “It has a great view. Have you looked outside?”
She turns her face to me. “You told me I wasn’t allowed to go outside.”
I explore the elegant curve of her collarbone with my fingertips. “On the balcony.”
“No, but I went up in the tower.”
“Mm.” I brush the back of my knuckles over a pink nipple. The tip hardens. The darker skin around contracts. “I don’t go there much, but women seem drawn to it. It must be the princess in the tower thing.”
She stiffens. “I was just curious. I didn’t go up there with some repressed fantasy.”
I place my palm on her waist, the touch meant to be calming. “That’s not what I said.”
“No, what you said is that you bring many women here.”
“You’re the only one here now, aren’t you?”
She doesn’t answer.
I bring my hand back to her breast, stroking the underside with a thumb. “Did you meet Fran?”
“Yes.” She leans her full weight against me, settling in deeper. “She speaks English very well. She almost doesn’t have an accent.”
I move to the other breast, tracing the areola with a finger. The tip buds beautifully, growing hard even before I flick a finger over it. “She studied at a culinary school in London. Her food is very good. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
She squirms when I move lower, tracing her navel. “How long has she worked for you?”
“A couple of years.” I drag a line from her navel to the apex of her sex, rolling my middle finger over her clit.
She sucks in a breath and presses her knees together. “I gave her a letter. She said you’ll mail it for me.”
“To your brother?” I trace her pussy lips with my thumb.
“Yes,” she says, hardly suppressing a moan before biting her lip. “I wanted to tell you before Francine mentions it.”
Ah, she was hoping to get her letter mailed without my knowledge but realized Francine will never undermine me. “You can write to Damian as much as you like.”
She gives me a surprised look. “You don’t mind?”
“Not in the slightest.”
At the declaration, her body sags. I use the opportunity to part her slightly, playing just inside her opening without penetrating her with my finger. Her back arches. She moans. I slip a hand between her thighs and push them open wide, then urge her to settle back in my hold. She’s so goddamn pretty spread over my lap with her nipples tight and arousal glistening on her pussy. Her breathing is shallower, her stomach rising and falling faster. I’m harder than before, painfully so, but I ignore the torturing feel of her ass on my cock, focusing only on her as I promised.