“Please, call me Miquela.”
“Oh… that’s a nice accent, Miquela.”
Accent? Shit. Miquela had spent half her life ridding herself of her many accents. Plight of growing up in a multicultural community. Or as multicultural a life as the daughter of a casino mogul could get.When in Monaco…“You like accents, do you?” Which one to embrace? The Spanish one? French? If she concentrated hard enough, she could do a mean Italian accent. Of course, she didn’t plan on doing much concentrating later, so she should stick to something natural yet arousing. Miquela may be fucking her tonight, but was it a bad thing if she was thrilled about it as well? That was half the fun. The other half being, well, sex.
“What girl doesn’t like a nice accent?” She sat up on her knees as Miquela rounded the corner of the bed and gazed upon her without that gauze in the way. Her hand gripped the maple sprouting from the end of the bed. “Let me guess… European, absolutely.”
“An easy guess.” Miquela let her hand fall, body following it as her shoulder slumped against the post. Her hands went into her trouser pockets. “Where in Europe, I wonder?”
The lady pulled her hair back over her shoulder, accentuating the cleavage bulging from her simple black dress.Now those are definitely real. Not bad to look at, definitely. Neither was her face. Heart-shaped. Jaw as finely pointed as those French-tipped nails sprouting from her nimble fingers. Her makeup was light, as if she hadn’t been expecting anyone. Still, Miquela was quite taken with her. Jury was still out on whether she was in the top tier of beauties she had been with in her life, but she hadnothing to complain about. Seeing her naked would be better, though.
“France.” The woman grinned. “Am I close?”
“Yes, you are close.” Miquela couldn’t help but smile back. “I would’ve been shocked if you could pinpoint a Monegasque accent.”
“Monegasque?”
“I’m from Monaco.”
“Wow.” The woman eased back down on her legs, still smiling. “Never hosted a woman from Monaco before.”
A woman. Not just someone, but awoman.I like her already, and not because she’s hot.“What’s your name?”
She batted her eyelashes. “June. But you can call me whatever you want, ma’am.”
Her hand trailed up the same post Miquela leaned against. Although she didn’t touch her, she came close, those white fingertips grazing her suit sleeve. “June is fine,” she said.
Everything about you is fine, isn’t it?”
June’s knees inched forward, her other hand reaching for Miquela.Nowthey touched. Her hand rested upon Miquela’s abdomen, pushing against her dress shirt and searching for the closest button.Cutting straight to the chase. Miquela wanted to draw this out a little more, though. Especially before her big reveal.Don’t scare her yet. Time to start thinking of pristine beaches, devoid of all life but birds and the occasional crustacean.
“If I may be blunt, you’re pretty good looking, too.”
Did she not see many good-looking guests? “You’re going to turn me into a monster before I even have the chance to enjoy your company. Tsk. I’m paying for the whole night. That means you’re sleeping with me, June.”
“Whatever you want, ma’am.” June flung herself back, landing on her hands as she exposed the open back of her dress andpushed her ass into the air.Shit. No, don’t do that yet.Miquela hadn’t been with a woman, whether because of work or travel, in what felt like too long. In the realm of the world, it was what, three weeks? “I’m open to anything. If you are, that is.”
She wasn’t ready to know what things Miquela was into yet. “Can I get a drink first?”
June popped up, tossing her hair behind her. The scent of floral shampoo hit Miquela in the face. “Right this way, ma’am.” June stepped off her bed and gestured to a cherry wood Victorian couch in the middle of the room. “What would you like?” She waited until Miquela was seated before rattling off what she had available. Miquela took a glass of cognac. June poured it, her tight skirt riding up her ass until her guest caught a peek of black lingerie.
Oh, boy. Miquela averted her gaze when June turned around and brought over the glass. “Thank you.” She couldn’t drink fast enough – especially when a beautiful woman stood behind her and touched her shoulders, slipping into a massage that probably did not come cheap.
“So…” June began, fingers dancing upon Miquela’s chest. If she were wearing a tie, she would probably flip it against her face to make sure she was alive.I am alive. Just not where you’re touching. It was taking every ounce of self-control to keep herself in her clothes right now. Her whole body knew. Where she was. What she was paying for. It was a game between mind and body now. A war, really. Her mind knew that there was protocol to follow in places like this, but her body told it to piss off. It wanted to be on top of this woman. Now.The more she touches me, the worse it will get… until I have no choice but to take her. “Monaco, huh? I thought Bolivar was a Spanish name. Not to mention Miquela.”
Miquela drank. It wasn’t the best cognac she ever had, but she doubted the good stuff was located here. “I’m second-generation Monegasque. My family is from Spain, yes.”
“What do you do?” June’s idea of idle chatter before she made her intentions clear was either annoying or quaint. Miquela wasn’t sure yet. “All I know about Monaco is Grace Kelly, Monte Carlo, and casinos.” Her hands squeezed her shoulders.
“Casinos, yes. My family has casinos all over Europe, but we’re based in Monaco now.”
“So you’re visiting.” June said it with such finality that Miquela was surprised.
“Not really. I bought an apartment in the city.”
“Expanding business?”
“Perhaps.” Her tone implied that was the end of that conversation.
