Page 19 of Hired Help

His laugh is low and smooth and kind. “Exactly. We’re just finding out what’s making that weird knocking sound under the hood.”

I peek at him over my kneecaps. His beard fascinates me. The glossy black makes my fingertips tingle, aching to discover if it feels as good as it looks. His gaze is steady. There’s no sign he’s about to mock me, even though a dozen situations shuffle in my head, times where it happened, leaving behind thin scars.

“I have had a few with a toy.” It’s not enough of an answer but I can’t give any more while he’s looking at me. I take cover behind my knees again. “When I watch porn at the same time.”

“Any porn or a particular style?”

My arms squeeze tighter, my thighs squeeze tighter, my pussy squeezes tighter, and I drive my forehead harder into my legs.

“Can you sit beside me?”

I jerk up my head, frowning, intrigued and nervous. Are we going to do it now?

“It might be easier to talk if we’re closer. You don’t have to look at me.”

My shoulders stay hunched even as I agree. When I move to sit beside him on the couch, his weight pulls me into him. I try to shuffle away from the touch, but he spreads his legs and positions me between them, resting back against him. The instant flush of warmth from his body eases the cold from my bones.

“You’re freezing,” he mutters, taking my hand between his and rubbing it until it’s warm, then swapping it for the other.

His large palms are warm and dry. My eyes are in heaven, tracing the thick veins and wondering if they’re just as prominent elsewhere on his body.

I turn side on, resting my head against his chest, letting my fingers rest lightly on his collarbone, then dart up to touch the underside of his beard before scuttling back to their original landing place.

The hairs are surprisingly soft and springy, bouncing back into position the moment I move.

“This is going to sound awful,” I say as a prelude, still unsure if the truth is going to come out of my mouth.

“I doubt it but try to shock me.”

My eyes screw shut as his arms close around me, supportive. “I liked one where the woman was pretending to be in pain. She made these noises and I—” My chest seizes, cutting off my voice and my breath, muscles tightening like a charley horse.

“You liked to imagine you’re the one inflicting pain?”

An image rushes to fill the filthy pit of my mind. Me, standing above this man with a whip, directing operations, hurting him when he doesn’t succeed.

There’s a small thrill that becomes larger when my imagination makes us switch places. “No,” I say having to fight past the lump in my throat. “I liked to pretend I was her.”

He moves and I stiffen, thinking he’s about to push me away, probably in disgust, but he pulls out a phone, swiping through the screens to find a browser. When he speaks, his voice is deeper, huskier. “Can you show me?”

I arch my eyebrow at him. “You think I have it memorised?”

His eyes lock to mine for a long second before he gives me an indulgent smile. “Yes.”

I mean, he’s right. I do. But,the nerve.

I take a few moments to navigate to the right place, his algorithm trained to produce a far different search list than mine. “Here,” I say, shoving it into his hands and folding in on myself as he presses play.

He watches it, skipping ahead to make the experience shorter and slightly less excruciating. When he finishes, he stows the phone away. His breathing is heavier, the times between shorter, the rise and fall of his chest more pronounced against my back.

“Are you happy to try something now?” His tone is so gruff, so low it forms a tantalising rumble. When I nod, he stands, grabbing a remote from the table. “I’d like to experiment while you’re watching this same clip.” He nods towards the gigantic flatscreen on the wall. “I can cast it to the tv if it’s easier.”

A wriggle of pure excitement shimmies through my body. “I don’t have my toy here.”

“Have you ever masturbated with your fingers?”

Part of me wants to say no. To postpone whatever it is he wants me to try until another day.

Another part of me shuts that girl down, dragging her off stage left, leaving only my enthusiasm in control. “Not with any success.”

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