It was a long time ago, and it had been treating her well for the past few years. Now the thought that she somehow owed Junea form of monogamy… when even June couldn’t give her that… how fucking absurd!
“Calmaos,” she grumbled to herself. No idea who she was talking to outside of herself, but if anyone was listening from outside the bathroom, they'd better calm down, too. “One thing at a time.” After inhaling deeply, Miquela made her decision: she would address how important June was in her life if she won the bidding war for the courtesan’s most precious commodity.
Her time.
Miquela called ahead the next day. When she woke up that morning with a raging ache between her legs and dreams of June, she knew she had to confront what lurked in her heart.
Emotions. Crazy, stupid, obnoxious emotions that had no business being in her life.
“She’s a professional,” that’s what she told herself as she drove up the mountainside, a familiar route by now. “Anything she makes you feel is fake, you bitch.” Miquela was grateful that she was going back to Monaco soon. She needed to clear her head of this American bullshit. “Don’t be apendeja.” The angrier she got, the more she slipped into Spanish – particularly Latin American. She blamed Rosa.
Fucking.Rosa.
She pulled off to the side of the road. Rain had begun to fall. Splitter. Splatter.Drop, drop, drop.
It had rained the night Rosa dumped her.
The car was back on the road, going a respectable speed, but Miquela’s brain was five miles away. The sun was long down. A message from Aimee went unanswered on her phone. Probably about her upcoming trip back to Monaco. She had chargedAimee with making last-minute arrangements earlier that day. She would not be going with Miquela.
Most people who went to the Manoir probably did so to relax. Certainly, that was Miquela’s original plan. Then she found herself becoming more agitated as the altitude increased. She pulled over again to use her phone. Not to call Aimee back, but to call the madam of the Manoir.
“I want her waiting for me in her room,” she snapped once Monique recognized her voice, “and tell her I’m making good on her promise from the last time we met.”
“Very well.” Madams. They always sounded so unbothered. “I will inform her. When you arrive, please meet me in the Receiving Room. A maid will show you the way.”
She didn’t need a welcoming maid, but Miquela went ahead and used up the last of her manners when she arrived at the Manoir and followed the usual song and dance of handing over her traveling coat and nodding to the maid who greeted her instead of June. “This way, ma’am,” she said. Miquela practically overtook her when she opened the Receiving Room door.
Monique instantly caught on to her mood. “I won’t keep you, Ms. Bolivar. I have a form for you to sign. June told me what you had intended to do the next time you met.”
Good. She glanced over the rules for a BDSM encounter and slapped her signature on it. “Thanks. I trust you received my new bid?”
She did not smile. “Yes. Thank you for your continued patronage, Ms. Bolivar. Both June and I hope that you remain happy here.”
Don’t get me started. Miquela didn’t accept a drink or shake Monique’s hand. She went straight upstairs to June’s unlocked bedroom door – which she would soon be locking.No eavesdroppers tonight.
Hell. The little brat could eavesdrop all she wanted. Neither Holly nor Serene would be able to seduce her as long as she was smitten with June Kingsley, the queen of the heart surging like a fucking tsunami in Miquela’s chest.
Heavy incense burned in the dimly lit bedroom. It was the same as the first time she came to the Manoir… when her life was turned upside down by this woman, of all people.
She was supposed to have a fun time, that was all. Maybe the favorite go-to girl in the area. June was never, ever meant to be anything more than what Miquela paid her to be.
Yet when she saw her kneeling on her bed behind that sheer curtain, hair down, skin soft, and demeanor so demure that she looked like a new woman… Miquela understood why she was so infatuated with her. There was no helping it. She was perfect.
“Good evening,” she greeted, voice soft and pure.I don’t buy she’s pure for one second. Miquela didn’t want pure, anyway. She wanted experienced and willing. “I trust that you are well this evening… ma’am?”
Had any woman ever said that word so delicately before?Stop it. Stop making me become someone I haven’t been in a long time.Miquela refused. Both because she was a woman of logical principle, and with the reassurance that June was merely playing a game with her. A game that would get her paid… the most money Miquela had yet to put in her hand.
BDSM with one of these women did not come cheap.
She pulled back the curtain and bit her tongue. There June was, clad in the most tantalizing black negligee Miquela had ever seen. Not just sheer or lace. Floral appliques covered her mound and nipples, as well as decorated this patch and that fold. For the most part, she was naked, wearing nothing but some black lace over her torso and on top of her hips and thighs. No underwear. The way she knelt, with her hands in her lap and her eyespointed toward Miquela, made her almost swallow that tongue she bit.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
“You look so tense.” June crawled forward, her cleavage on full display beneath Miquela’s gaze. “There must be something I can do for you.” Her fingers grazed Miquela’s zipper, but did not pull it down. Not without permission. “Say the word. I am yours to command tonight.”
War raged within Miquela. She came in here determined to simply use her. To pay for June’s services – and to keep her mouth shut, if it wasn’t moaning or pleasing someone. She was going to prove to herself and the world that June was nothing more than a convenient, gorgeous body for her to use as she saw fit. After all, Miquela paid for her time and efforts. There was supposed to be nothing more to it than that.
On the other side lurked an army declaring its intentions to put many things to rest. Not just sex. All the junk Miquela had stored in the back of her mind for the better part of a decade.
