Queen of Love

That was her skin and hair, though. Her breath smelled like bourbon. Tough. Stern. Masculine.

“Then I’ll take the lead for the first few minutes.” She pulled up the skirt of her long dress. Aya nearly forgot how to breathe when so close to a bare leg that soon swung over her lap. “If you promise to take me once you get going.”

Aya’s head fell against the back of the couch. The woman who intimidated the hardest parts of her lowered to Aya’s lap, hands clutching her shoulders and heavy breaths crashing against her throat.

“It’s not that I can’t make promises.” Were those words even coming out of Aya’s mouth? I might actually be on a different planet right now. That was doubly true once Genevieve started grinding against her. Actually, I think I’ve died. Shot straight to Heaven. Royal Heaven. “I’m… you… you know…”

A soft giggle threatened to cut Aya’s throat. “Are you rusty?”

“Don’t besmirch my good reputation.”

“I’ve always liked that word.” Genevieve halted her movements, taking the moment to blow a kiss against Aya’s ear.

“Speaking of words…” Perhaps this distraction could help Aya get back into the groove of being with such a fistful of woman. “There are two words for love in Japanese. Do you know?”

Her hands intended to grab the bottoms of Genevieve’s thighs, but they slipped back, cupping her ass through the soft, tangled fabric of that dress. Genevieve pushed herself upright, bringing her chest right at Aya’s eye level. I only have eyes for that consuming visage, though. It was coming for her, after all.

“Ai is the same in Mandarin.”

“Uh-huh.” Aya struggled to focus on her words when Genevieve was looped around her. All that gyrating did was make Aya realize how firm her client’s body was at… what? Forty? “You know, ai means to give yourself over wholeheartedly. Like you’re always thinking about what you can do for that person.”

Genevieve settled herself against Aya’s body. It became easier as Aya sank into the couch, her jacket suffocating the chest concealing her pounding heart. “It’s romantic, yes?”

“Then there’s koi, you know.”

As Genevieve’s hips pushed forward, a delicate nail made its way down Aya’s cheek, then her throat. It hooked into her top. “All right. Tell me about koi.”

“Koi is helpless love. You fall into it, right? It makes you selfish. It’s all about what you want and yearn to feel.” Aya lifted her head, her lips dancing dangerously close to Genevieve’s. “Koi is something you die for because to live without it hurts more than anything else you’ve ever…” Aya’s words trailed off. She couldn’t remember her native Japanese, never mind a complicated secondary language like English when a beautiful woman was pulling down the sleeves of her dress and unhooking her bra. “Shit.” She was not prepared to see Genevieve’s breasts so quickly, if at all! “Manaita no ue no koi…”

“Koi, you said?” Genevieve knew exactly what she was doing. She must have because that was a soul-sucking purr twittering in her throat. “I’m leaving you speechless.”

“Different… different one.” Aya had almost forgotten her hands. They were still locked onto Genevieve’s thighs. Every time the woman thrust forward, Aya felt those muscles tensing and relaxing as if they were performing an erotic dance for her satisfaction. “It means…”

Genevieve landed a soft kiss against the side of Aya’s neck. Thinking in English had never been so impossible!

“I’m a fucking carp on a cutting board.” Aya slightly moaned as Genevieve’s lips dodged her lover’s. “Helpless. I’m helpless.”

“From love to fish.” Genevieve pressed her whole body forward. Aya damned the clothing on her own form. That shirt, her bra, and even the jacket kept her from feeling the full effect of a topless Genevieve thrusting against her. “I like you, Ms. Aya.”

It didn’t take much longer for Genevieve to throw herself into her unladylike moment. Yet she does it like she’s a refined woman. Aya couldn’t feel the heat buried beneath Genevieve’s dress, but she could imagine it. While she couldn’t beseech their first real kiss, she knew it would come. Much like how Genevieve was making short work of her own desires. Those thrusts came with a purpose. They didn’t only taunt and tease Aya into dominant action. Genevieve wouldn’t stop until she had put herself out there in every way she could.

Is she taking the fall for me? Although Aya had ached to touch this woman from the moment they met, professionalism had kept her back. To dip her toes in forbidden waters could mean more than the end of her semi-successful career. It could make her a pariah to anyone who might hire her in the future. Especially if the crafted story – and the one Aya allowed herself to believe – was she had seduced and intimidated her wealthy client into sleeping with her.

But when Genevieve completely took the reins and made herself aggressively vulnerable, there was no tale of opaque truth formulating in Aya’s head. Genevieve wanted this.

Really, what she wanted was for Aya to throw her down onto the couch and have her way with the woman moaning and writhing in her hotel room, but baby steps. One did not merely throw open the cage door and expect the hungry lion to pounce on the first bit of dinner it saw.

I am really, really close, though. So was Genevieve, clinging to the back of the couch as she humped Aya’s lap through God-knew-how-many layers of clothing.

Listening to her harried breaths quickly transform into bouncing squeaks of pleasure shouldn’t have been so intoxicating. Yet there Aya was, closing her eyes and allowing her hands to wander that naked skin beneath a cascade of soft hair.

The queen had spoken. She had judged Aya and had found her desirable.

I’m her concubine now. Didn’t matter if Aya was older or more used to being the dominant one. Nor did it matter if earlier, she had thought herself beneath the role of prized and precious concubine. It was what it was, and it was amazing.

Genevieve’s relaxed body sank back into Aya’s lap. As the two of them indulged in heightened eye contact, Genevieve folded her hand against the back of Aya’s head, and Aya tugged on that hair spilling from Genevieve’s scalp.

When they finally kissed for the first time, Aya had forgotten who either of them was. She certainly didn’t give a shit if this was wrong, dirty or… Heaven forbid, unprofessional.