Page 46 of Hired Help

“Get on your knees, brat.” My voice is barely above a rumble. “You want me to take care of you in the bedroom? Crawl there.”

Her chin juts into the air and for the longest time, she locks eyes with me, neither of us retreating. Then she drops to the floor, still keeping that contact. Her neck cranes backwards as she fights to hold my gaze from the low angle.

“Crawl. Or do you want me to give you a kick in the backside to help?”

My skin fizzes as I watch her. This is the enjoyment I crave when I’m having sex to order, when I’m not the one being paid. Sex that fulfils every urge in my primitive brain.

Brooke slides one hand along the floor, the glare from her eyes so hot I can feel the nerves on the back of my neck sizzling.

“Hurry or there won’t be anything left of this cock when you get there.”

One knee moves delicately forward and my patience snaps.

“Spread your legs wider. If you’re going to take your time, the least I deserve is a show.”

She parts them, her arousal visible, and I palm myself with long strokes, urgency growing until it’s close to unbearable.

Fucking hell.

As she moves forward, her movements lithe as a panther, I see her crumpled underwear on the floor where she must have spit them from her mouth.

“Do you think I’m your servant, here to tidy after you?” I move in front of her, stopping her with my shoe against her forehead, pointing behind her. “Pick those up from the floor.” When she grudgingly extends one hand, I bump her head again. “With your mouth.”

She retreats, glaring as she circles around to face forward again, ducking down to snag the edge of the fabric between her teeth.

“You’re making a big performance of defying me, but you must know I’m keeping track. Everything you do now is mollifying me or adding another blow to your punishment. Pick wisely.”

Brooke lifts her hand to stuff the panties inside, eyes aflame as she resumes her slow forward momentum.

“Get a move on. That fountain between your legs will have run dry at the speed you’re going.”

Another glare but this time it’s so molten I have to glance away before she makes me cream my jeans.

With each move forward, her pussy flashes its glistening lips at me. The mud from her excursion rubs against the worn carpet but I don’t care. She could coat the entire house in a layer of filth, and I wouldn’t pay the slightest attention.

I rub my hand against my crotch, easing my straining erection into a more comfortable position. Brooke pauses and I move forward, giving her a stinging slap against her right arse cheek, the sharp crack turning it as rosy red as the cummerbund hanging with my tux on the wardrobe door.

Finally, we’re in the bedroom. I shut the door, trapping her within its confines, cock so hard I’m dizzy. My fingers continue to grip the doorhandle once its shut, needing the stability, the balance.

“Get on the bed.”

She kneels on the edge and immediately tries to fish the underwear from her mouth. I shoot her a warning glance, raising my finger. She visibly swallows, then settles on the bedspread, legs folded under her, palms resting on her knees.

Looking every inch the regal princess, staring at a commoner.

She’s radiant. A flush lights the skin of her chest, feeding it so much colour her hands look as white as plaster in contrast. Her nipples are tight buds even though the room is warm. Her arms are still rough with gooseflesh from her journey outside.

Any residual anger from the myriad shocks of the night is subsumed beneath a rising tide of arousal.

I move a step closer, hands shaking as I fight to stop from grabbing her, shoving her face into the bedclothes, and shoving my cock deep into her cunt—one thrust probably all it would take before I poured my load into her.

Much as I want that, I also want the pleasure and pain of waiting, so I count backwards, then imagine my ex screaming at me—a trick usually guaranteed to soften the hardest erection—but it doesn’t work.

Brooke’s long hair cascades from her shoulders like an evil waterfall, the ends damp from the rain, curling against the soft creamy rise of her tits. When I move to stand directly in front of her, touching distance, her eyes widen, and the edge of her silken underwear pokes in a tuft from her mouth.

I touch my knuckle under her chin, tilting her head back even farther, angling my upper body to get as wide a view as I can.

She’s moulded from the clay of my raunchiest dreams, so perfectly crafted it should be illegal.

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