Page 13 of Fake Maid

His words are fuel tossed on the fire, and the crackling embers in my core burst into twenty-foot flames. I cry out, rocking harder, slurping him deeper, and his fingers tighten on my jaw until they’re just this side of pain.

The thought of bruises—of shadowed fingerprints where anyone could see and guess what we’ve been doing—it stops my breath. I freeze, muscles rigid, a cry tearing from my mouth as waves of pleasure ripple from my core. It scorches through my body, lighting my nerve ends on fire, and when I finally slump back on my heels, my ears are ringing.

Eli draws his cock from my mouth with a pop, cursing and working himself with his own hand, before warm stripes of his come paint my cheeks.

I grin up at him, chest heaving and eyes wet, a flushed, sticky mess.

I’ve never felt so freaking alive.

“Good girl,” he grinds out, his deep voice like gravel, and my pussy throbs in response. He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Good girl.”

I stay kneeling as he crosses to the desk, rummaging in the drawers before he comes back and crouches in front of me. He wipes my face so tenderly, his touch so gentle on my raw lips, that my heart cracks open.

Shit. I wish he really were mine.

And more than that—I want to be his. His lover. His pet. His plaything. It’s such a cruel joke, to have him like this—to know how he tastes, how he feels. The way his eyes twinkle when he helps me up from the floor.

Because I can’t have him. He thinks I’m my twin sister, and if I tell him the truth, he’ll know I’ve lied to him since the first second I saw him.

I can’t bear his rejection. For once in my life, I’ll be a coward instead.

“I’d better go.” He frowns at my hoarse words. “I, um. I have work to do.”

“Cor—Miss Walsh.” He catches himself at the last second, but the reminder is still there. This is my sister’s job, my sister’s boss, and I can’t ruin it for her.

Not more than I already have.

“Goodbye, Eli.” I step around him and leave the office, my chest caving in.

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