The_Color_of_Love_-_Radclyffe (Рэдклифф) - страница 53

She stroked and tugged, her pulse pounding loud in her ears, her abdomen hard and tight. A fist of pressure clenched and spread.

Yes. The soft pull of a warm mouth enclosed her. She shuddered. Just like that. She rocked, clasped the neck of the woman kneeling between her thighs, slid her fingers into long silky strands of dark wet hair, drawing the pale face closer, the relentless mouth nearer. Muscles flexing, hips lifting, pushing, thrusting, moaning, she strained for the connection, for the ultimate union.

Yes. Close. Pleasure spiked, pierced her center. Eyes squeezed shut, she clawed toward the peak. Breathless, lungs burning, loins aching. She had to, had to, had to… Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

Behind closed lids, she saw herself looking down, met the eyes of the woman looking back, watched the glint of triumph when the soft circle of lips drew her in, pushed her over. Yes. Yes! You’ll make me come.

The orgasm jolted her. Her hips jerked, once, twice, three times, and she shot out an arm to catch her balance. She moaned, a long sigh of relief. God. When had she last come so hard? Thighs loose, heart hammering against her ribs, she quickly finished showering, dried off, and dressed, all the while aware she’d just imagined Emily May making her come.

Just a trick of the unconscious. Nothing more.

She walked through the park, a glint of early a.m. sun snaking down through the trees, most of which were just beginning to leaf out. The air, not yet fouled by exhaust, hinted at spring. Aud was already ensconced in a booth with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and another across from her. Derian slid in. “Morning.”

“Hi. I ordered for us.”

Derian added cream and sipped the strong brew. “What did you get me?”

“Please,” Aud teased. “It hasn’t been that long. Like I could forget what you’ve ordered for the last ten years? Fried egg and bacon on English.”

“Thanks.”

Aud looked ready for a day at the office, sharp and fashionable in a gray pinstripe jacket, a textured linen shirt in a paler shade of gray, and a diamond pendent set in dusky gold glinting in the hollow of her throat. A matching bracelet circled her right wrist and a gold Rolex adorned her left. One ring—an engraved signet—gleamed on her right hand. Not showy, but everything about her spoke of power and privilege. The look suited her well. Derian doubted she actually spent much time in court. Corporate lawyers with wealthy clients like Winfield Enterprises usually settled issues with money. Long drawn-out court battles just interfered with business as usual, and that’s what really mattered. That the money kept flowing.