Page 15

Chapter Nine

L ottie simply stood there as their laughter faded, half a mile above the surface of the earth, nothing but the sea breeze and Zynara’s gaze on her skin.

Her dress lay in a puddle of audacity at her feet and her fingers paused at the lace of her thong.

She’d been ready to step out of that too, but the woman in front of her just looked at her, her eyes like weights. Lottie allowed herself to be watched.

She was being examined, she realised. Deciphered. Catalogued. Zynara was deciding.

The Qasira leaned back against the railing, one hand in her pocket, the other holding her champagne glass to her lips. No approval. No command. Just that calculating, unreadable stare.

Lottie was beginning to think she’d misread the entire situation when the Qasira finally twitched one brow—the tiniest movement—but it hit Lottie like a bolt of fire between her legs.

“Haven’t done your research, have you?”

“What?” It was the last thing Lottie expected her to say, but her voice was low and amused. It crinkled all the skin on Lottie’s body.

“I happen to know there’s a whole channel on the Discord devoted to me. I’d assumed you’d studied it. But you haven’t.”

Zynara’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but something hungrier. She sipped her champagne, her eyes dragging down Lottie’s body, getting lost around her hips, lingering on her breasts and then meeting her eyes again.

“I’m a fast learner,” Lottie breathed.

“You’d better be.” Zynara pushed off the balcony railing and stepped right into Lottie’s space. Her heels clicked like punctuation. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

Lottie swallowed. Her heart banged in her chest. Her brain—gone.

The Qasira had been picturing her naked?

Fuck, that was powerful. Lottie would have crowed, but it hit her differently to how she expected it.

It struck deep. Whatever Zynara had planned, Lottie knew then and there she’d take it.

She was ready to do whatever Zynara asked.

But she could still be cheeky. “Been dreaming about me?”

One perfect finger landed on her lips and Lottie sucked back her sass like her life depended on it. Zynara’s eyes danced at her. She was tall, beautiful, commanding and… definitely trying not to laugh.

“‘Been dreaming about me, Qasira .’ You will use my title” —her voice dropped an octave— “if you want to be… good.”

“Oh, I do. I want to be good. I want to be very good. Actually, I am very good, but I also really want to be very—” she stopped babbling when Zynara stalked slowly around her, paused at her back and swept her hair to one side.

She hushed a sigh into the nape of Lottie’s neck, and Lottie’s knees nearly gave way. “Oh, fuck ,” she breathed.

“Hmm?”

It was irresistible. “Oh, fuck, Qasira.”

The huff turned into a snort of exasperation and then a very sharp nip. Lottie squeaked, and it won her a slap on her backside, deliciously hard. Zynara’s hand settled on the spot again and squeezed.

“If you’d done your research, you’d have learned that I am always in control. When you come to my bed, you bend your luscious, perfect body to my will. Not the other way around. You undress when I order you to. You obey my commands. Am I understood?”

It was clear as crystal. It made perfect sense.

The agent part of Lottie’s mind filed away Zynara’s need for control—the other part revelled in her luck.

A brilliantly domineering, stunningly attractive woman who thought that Lottie’s body was luscious and perfect.

Lottie was going to worship her for the rest of her days.

“Yes, Qasira,” she whispered, meaning it with every fibre of her body.

Zynara stepped around her shoulder to peer at her. A finger lifted her chin.

“Are you making fun?”

“Never!”

Zynara shot an eyebrow.

“Okay, ninety percent of the time, yes, but not right now. Qasira. You’re in control.”

There was a slow, heavy smile.

“Good girl. Never forget who I am. We might be at the top of the world’s tallest building, but there are always people watching. This” —she waved her fingers at Lottie’s body and the dress on the floor— “as delectable as it is, doesn’t happen unless I say so.”

Lottie dropped her eyes. She hadn’t thought. Seducing a princess wasn’t free from consequences. Lottie needed to think.

“Sorry, Qasira.”

“I like it though.”

Lottie’s eyes snapped up again. There was some wickedly fun mischief in the twist of Zynara’s smile that promised all kinds of pleasure. Lottie’s vision whited out.

They were so close. Lottie was eye level with Zynara’s lips. The fabric of her suit jacket brushed Lottie’s breasts. She could feel the heat of Zynara’s thighs against her own.

“Mata Hari,” Zynara whispered.

“What?”

“Safeword.”

Fuck. A World War One spy and exotic dancer. What did Zynara know? Lottie didn’t even care.

“Whatever you say, Qasira.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Zynara fucked her up against the glass of the balcony enclosure.

She simply wrapped her fingers around the base of Lottie’s throat, slipped a thigh between Lottie’s legs, and walked her back to the glass. They could have tumbled nearly a kilometre to the ground. They soared across the sky instead.

Lottie knew it was all over for her the moment Zynara’s lips landed on her neck. It was hot and wet—a very greedy open-mouthed kiss that made its way up the side of her throat and focused on a point just below her ear that made Lottie rise up onto her toes.

Strong hands held her still and Lottie couldn’t help grinding down on the thigh between her legs. Zynara was still fully clothed—well, minus the shirt Lottie had spilled wine over—and Lottie was in a lace thong and silver heels. It was too much. Lottie wanted it all off.

She slipped her hands between them and tried to find the button of Zynara’s jacket.

The lips at her throat froze.

“What did I say?”

“But I want to touch you,” Lottie whined. “I want to see you. I need to—”

“You need to do as you’re told.”

“But—”

The hand at her hip slapped her thigh and Lottie couldn’t stop a moan. God, this was just how she liked her women to treat her. She slumped against the glass and Zynara’s leg between hers held her up. She took the opportunity to tilt her hips and grind down even harder.

Zynara chuckled in her ear. “Oh, poor little songbird. You’re all worked up, aren’t you? How about I sort that out for you, and then you can earn your money?”

“Fuck,” Lottie mumbled. She wasn’t sure if it was the pet name or the promise of being used that drove her insane, but she was whimpering and writhing against the glass and she couldn’t stop.

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

“Please, what?” Zynara breathed it hotly into Lottie’s throat.

“Please can I kiss you, Qasira? Please?”

A hand slid to the back of Lottie’s neck and gripped it possessively. Lottie melted. Zynara blinked at her once, then crashed their mouths together.

It was teeth and tongues and a stupid battle for dominance for one crazy moment—and then Lottie tasted it.

Need .

It was the flavour of something desperate in Zynara’s kiss.

Something wilder than greed, deeper than simply playing.

There was yearning in the Qasira’s lips, and it tasted a million times better than the champagne that lingered on her tongue.

It reached into a hidden place in the back of Lottie’s mind—or maybe her heart, she wasn’t sure—and it connected.

A perfect fit. And that was all Lottie needed.

She surrendered the fight and felt the spin of the world on its axis.

The Qasira hummed, tightened her grip on the back of Lottie’s neck, and deepened the kiss.

Time shattered, confused itself with touch, and Lottie spiralled.

Zynara was— everything.

She moaned into the Qasira’s mouth.

Zynara broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, her lips bruised, her eyes hooded.

Lottie’s entire life fell apart when she saw distrust in the Qasira’s eyes. That kiss had been amazing, but Zynara looked at her with suspicion. She was wary.

That made sense too, Lottie thought, with the last shreds of her rational brain.

How could someone who was actual royalty, a leading businesswoman, a global leader, a multi-billionaire ever trust someone like Lottie Finch from Bethnal Green?

Lottie wanted to swallow Zynara’s suspicion, drink it all down and pull her close and wrap her in trust—but what nonsense was that? Lottie barely trusted herself.

So instead she panted through her swollen lips and loaded her gaze with sass.

“That the best you got, Qasira?”

Hurt flashed across the woman’s face so quickly Lottie wasn’t sure she saw it, then Zynara snarled, licked her lips and kissed her again.

It was twice as real as before. Deep and possessive, with a confidence that bordered on swagger. Zynara already knew how Lottie liked it. She made damn sure Lottie got it, too.

Lottie was lost. She placed her hands on Zynara’s shoulders, gripped her suit, hooked one leg over her hip and hung on for dear life.

Zynara’s other hand slipped between her legs and found exactly the point Lottie needed her to in a second.

Two firm fingers found the wetness Lottie knew was there.

There was another hum against her lips. The Qasira pulled back and gave her a hungry smile.

Her eyes swept down Lottie’s body in a ridiculously covetous manner and looked at the hand buried in Lottie’s cunt.

“Are you ready for me?”

Lottie huffed out a desperate snort. “Think you know I am.”

“Going to moan for me, little songbird? Going to sing? I want to hear it all.”

Fuck , this woman! She was steel and ice and perfectly calm, and Lottie was coming apart at the edges. She’d do whatever Zynara wanted.

But her fingers weren’t moving.

“Qasira, please fuck me. Please do whatever you want with me.” Lottie didn’t even recognise her own voice. “Just please, please do it now,” she whined.