Page 34 of Room Service
I had one thing in mind when it came to her. Sex. One thing that has somehow turned into a whole host of other stuff that I can’t even pretend to hate, or even try to ignore.
I’m not even thinking past each day, just seeing what happens, but it’s quite apparent that I can’t seem to stay away from her. She’s running through my mind constantly, and I look forward to the moment when I can bury my dick in her. Is that all it is? Luckily, a knock at the door has my thoughts disappearing in a puff of smoke as I go to answer it. Seven-thirty on the dot.
Showtime, Dorien.
I answer the door to see her stood there in her maid’s outfit, looking a little put out if I’m being honest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to go and change,” she apologises, but she has no need. I couldn’t give a fuck what she’s wearing.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say as I step aside and gesture for her to come in. “In fact, I’m glad you didn’t, because I’ve got something waiting for you in the bathroom.”
“Huh?” She looks as puzzled as I felt when I was setting it all up for her.
“Come on,” I say as I shut the door and flick the lock before grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind me. When we get to the bathroom, I push the door open and hear her gasp behind me.
“Oh my goodness… is this for me?” she says, her eyes wide with surprise as they roam the room.
“Who else would it be for?”
“I don’t know… maybe you have a bubble bath fetish?” she jokes, and it’s good to see her smile—I mean really smile.
“I can assure you that I don’t, so please, take your time. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
I go to walk out and shut the door, to give her some privacy, but her hand comes to rest on my arm, stopping me. “Dorien, what is all of this? What are we doing here?”
I’ve asked myself the same question more than once, but I have no answer for her, because I don’t fucking know myself.
“You’re going to have a bath, and I am going to make sure dinner isn’t burning.”
“You cooked yourself?” she asks, astonished.
“Of course. I’m not totally fucking useless, you know?” I tease—fucking tease? Me?
“I would never think of you as useless, Dorien,” she says softly, and fuck, the way she looks at me has my dick wanting to make an appearance already.
“Relax, and I’ll be back to let you know when dinner is ready.” With that, I leave her to it, pulling the door shut as I go, and as I walk to the kitchen to check on the food, I remind myself that I need to hold the fuck back. It’s just sex. Really, really fucking good sex and nothing more.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ELISE
I’m a little lost for words as I get myself dry and wonder if I’m having a dream which I’m about to wake up from any minute now. And if I am, I don’t want to wake up, because this is so unexpected, and it’s simply so fucking nice.
The bath was divine, the bubbles smelling like rose petals and soothing my aches away. The towel is the softest thing I have ever had wrapped around me, and the clothes… wait… where are there any clothes? Oh my god, am I going to have to put my sweaty maid uniform back on?
With a resigned sigh, I pick up my discarded uniform from the floor as there’s a knock to the door, and then it opens slightly. “Elise,” Dorien says, his head appearing around the door. “Dinner will be… what are you doing?” He pushes the door open fully and looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
“I’m getting dressed,” I manage to say as I take in the fact that he is wearing grey joggers and a figure-hugging T-shirt that makes my mouth salivate. Fucking hell, he’s hot in suits, but in casual dress… no competition. Joggers win, hands down.
“No, no,” he mutters, coming towards me and taking the uniform out of my hands and throwing it in the washing basket in the corner, by the door.
“Dorien, I can’t just wear a towel,” I tell him with a sigh.
“I think you absolutely could, but that isn’t happening tonight.” He reaches around me to some shelves behind and produces an over-sized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “This is what you’ll be wearing.”
I look at the clothes and look back at him. “Pyjamas?”
“Why not?”
