Page 1 of Bossy Grump's Secret

Prologue

I open the door and peep. Left, then right. No Dylan. I'm free to go.

My movement is rapid, and I thank goodness no one sees me for the task at hand. Seeing a housekeeper hurry so badly with detergent in one hand and a pile of misplaced laundry in the other would raise questions.

What am I? A laundry thief?

The hotel now feels like a busy San Francisco intersection. If you're not careful, you could get run over. Only in my case do I need to be run over. I just have to set my eyes on him.

This kind of addiction should have medical treatment.

I stop to think, not having considered my options. Is it the supplies room or the room that needs the sheets? Logic sets in. It'd take ages to find the space that needs the laundry done. Besides, the supply room is just a few feet away. I am opening the door, stowing the chemical substance in my hand on its appropriate shelf, when my eyes land on him. He hasn't seen me yet, so I have about a second to turn around and get out of there.

But I don't. I stay rooted to the spot like I'm in a trance - because maybe I am. Maybe there really is no reason to run from all this and accept it for what it is. He takes his time, looking at his clipboard. He knows someone has entered; he doesn't know it's me.

"Okay, I don't know if you came here to do anything, but work's waiting..." He turns.

He sees me - as I do him - and his throat bobs as he takes a huge gulp. I'm almost salivating at the sight of him.

"You're here," he croaks.

I nod. I move to the shelf where the detergent rack is - coincidentally just beside him - and place the soap down, stretching my arms and revealing my right side. He wastes no time.

He grabs my exposed torso and kisses me from behind. Before I can taste him, his saliva has already coated my neck and face. Once it does, it instantly familiarizes itself with its new friend. His grip gets firmer as he presses my body into his, and I can feel his turgid groin.

Well, now I want that too.

Kisses from behind have never hit me so sensually. My neck arches to take in as much of him as anatomy allows, and it doesn't help that I'm not that much shorter.

I rub my behind against him, further stirring up the moment. "You were supposed to stay away."

"No..." I pant. "You were supposed to avoid this floor." I smile and push into him, making him grunt. His hands leave my waist and stretch to my thighs. First on the surface of my dress, then under it. I feel scorched.

"I can't," he huffs. "I have to do my job."

His hands' trail where I want to be touched. I moan pathetically, my whole body giving in to the sensation.

This is really getting out of hand.

"You think I am here to play?" I drawl.

"Well...now you are."

Fair enough.

Here, nudity is a definite no-no, but satisfaction is not off-limits. The likelihood of being caught increases with the unlocked door, which only adds to my exhilaration.

He raises my dress entirely above my waist and caresses my bare bottom.

"Dylan, there's no time." I groan.

His grunt affirms he understands. When I hear the deep hissing sound of his zipper, my mouth waters.

"You're dripping." He removes his hand from my flesh and shows it to me.

I am dripping.

"You're so sensitive...so wet. I can't control myself..." he utters.

---