Françoise’s eyes were hazy with need, her
breath short, body vibrating. “Yes, please. I want to watch you take me over.”
Derian took her time, relaxed and certain of
her skill, her caresses practiced, her kisses perfected. She knew how to please
a woman, enjoyed it immensely, almost as much as she enjoyed the respite from
thought. When she stroked between Françoise’s thighs, when she played her
fingers gently over the delicate valley, when she slid inside, every movement
was timed, intentional, designed for the pinnacle of pleasure. When Françoise’s
gaze clouded over and her lips parted on a silent scream, Derian registered a
sense of satisfaction and success.
When Françoise’s choked sobs trailed off and
her body slumped, Derian stretched out beside her, head propped on her hand.
She traced Françoise’s nipple with a fingertip, fascinated as it pebbled in
response. She didn’t expect Françoise to reciprocate, didn’t need her to. Her
goal had been to pleasure Françoise, and she
was confident she had been more than successful.
“You are a marvelous lover.” Françoise
caressed Derian’s face, her voice husky and her eyes hazy with satisfaction.
“Thank you,” Derian said, meaning it.
Françoise’s openness, her vulnerability, her trust were a precious gift.
“If you have a need—” Françoise began.
“I am more than satisfied,” Derian murmured,
giving Françoise a slow, lingering kiss. She didn’t lie. She didn’t want
anything else. “You are what I wanted. All I wanted.”
“Then I should go,” Françoise said with a
sigh. She gave Derian a final caress and sat up. “My escort will be looking for
me.”
“Of course.” Derian rolled over and leaned
back against the pillows, watching Françoise dress, enjoying the way her body
disappeared with each article she donned as much as she had enjoyed disrobing
her. She knew the planes and contours of her flesh now. She was like a
beautiful landscape Derian had touched, claimed, and would forever own in some
small way. Aimlessly, she stroked her stomach through her silk shirt, felt the
stirring between her thighs, anticipated satisfying it later. Her cell phone
rang and she pulled it from her pants pocket. She checked the number and set
the phone on the bedside table.
Françoise regarded her with a raised eyebrow.
“No one important?”
“No. Not in the least.” She had no intention
of taking a call from the family attorney. As much as she liked her childhood
friend, Audrey Ames had taken sides when she’d gone into the Ames family
business of representing Winfield Enterprises. And that side was not Derian’s.