Page 9 of Fake Maid

Four

Billie

Abreath hisses between my teeth when he grips my hips, tugging my ass back against him. Coral’s boss is hard as steel, the length of him nestled between my ass cheeks, and triumph surges through me as I straighten and lean back against his chest.

We’re both breathing hard, the sounds harsh in the pool house where the only other noise is the gentle slosh of turquoise water against the pool walls.

I shouldn’t have baited him. Shouldn’t have pushed him to this.

But I can’t pretend to be sorry.

I squirm my hips, trying to feel him better, and let my head drop back onto his shoulder. Mr. Koven—Eli—scrapes his teeth over my bared throat, nipping at the vulnerable skin.

A hook twists in my lower abdomen. A pulse thrums between my legs, ticking like a time-bomb.

“Are you always such a fucking tease, Coral?”

I wilt in his arms. Hearing my sister’s name as he rocks against my ass—yeah, that’s a downer.

“Miss Walsh,” I whisper. I don’t care if it makes me sound like some Victorian dominatrix. I don’t want him calling me by the wrong name.

Eli pauses. My heart begins to sink, but then he winds his uninjured hand through my hair. He grabs a fistful of my waves, tugging my head back with just enough force to make me gasp.

Heat floods my pussy. I whimper, squeezing my thighs together.

“You haven’t answered my question. Are you always such a tease, Miss Walsh?”

It’s ridiculous, but the fact that he’s willing to call me that warms my insides. Makes me go all gooey. Because now I can pretend this is really between us—Eli and Billie. Not Eli and my sister.

“No,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. “I guess you bring out the worst in me.”

His chuckle is dark. Smoky.

“The worst? Oh, I hope so.”

His tongue lathes me from collarbone to earlobe. It’s like he wants to consume me, to swallow me whole, and god help me but I want that too. Shivers race across my skin and I melt back against him, pliant and all his.

“And you? Do you always lick your maids?”

Because I need to know. Is this as special as it feels?

This time, his laugh is short and humorless.

“Hardly.” Then he brightens. “Why? Are you jealous, Miss Walsh?”

Yes.The thought of Eli doing this with another maid, even another woman, makes me want to spit with envy. Makes me want to trash the pool house and set fire to the grounds.

I won’t, obviously. I’m not insane. But I do rock back against him harder.

Eli sucks in a pleased breath. “So you are jealous.”

“No.”

“You are, baby. You’re two seconds from tearing my shirt down the middle and rubbing your scent on my skin.”

“You wish,” I grind out, though the image makes me flush hotter. He’s right, I do want to tear his clothes. To mess up his hair and scratch his chest so hard I draw blood. Partly to wipe that cocky smile off his face, and partly to show everyone else he’s mine.

“Shall I tell you a secret?” He nips at my earlobe, rubbing strands of my hair between his finger and thumb. “I’m jealous too. I want to suck bruises all over your creamy skin just so everyone knows you’re taken.”

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