Page 22 of Fake Maid

Eight

Billie

“Why here?” I trip over the threshold to the pool house, the humid air kissing my cheeks. I can feel Eli prowling behind me, hot and strong and determined at my back, and it sends shivers skating down my spine.

He flicks a switch, lighting the pool up from inside and casting a gentle glow through the room.

“Unfinished business,” he mutters, and tugs my jacket off my shoulders. He’s pushy but patient, working the sleeve over my cast with infinite care. And once my jacket is tossed over a lounger, he pulls my top off next, his hungry gaze roving over my bare skin.

“Catch up.” I bat at his shoulder, and he tugs his shirt off, grinning. He’s sculpted and strong, covered in the kind of muscles that only come from real hard work out in the world and not from a gym. Pale scars cover his skin, and both fresh and old bruises.

I twist and show him the scrape on my lower back from surfing last week.

“Snap. This is from wiping out near the rocks.”

He frowns, concerned, fingers ghosting over the marks, but he doesn’t demand that I never surf again. No; he crowds closer, nibbling over my collarbone.

“Take me with you next time.”

“Okay,” I gasp. His mouth is scorching hot, his hands roaming over my bare skin, and the scrape of his teeth make me jump like I’ve been electrified. “If you take me climbing.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating across my throat.

“We’ll have to get rid of these damn casts first.”

I don’t care. It’s a future plan. With that, and the surfing, and Eli telling the driver, take us home…

Hope swells like a bubble in my chest.

This is really happening.

“Eli.” He drops to his knees in front of me, working my button open and dragging my shorts down my legs. I kick off my sandals and step out of them, tugging at his shoulder. “Eli.”

“Hmm?”

“The windows. People might see.”

The pool house walls are basically glass, and with the light fading in the grounds, we must be lit up in here like a TV. Anyone could glance over from the gardens, or from a neighboring house, and see me standing here in my bra and panties with Eli on his knees.

Goosebumps ripple over my skin, and my breasts grow heavy and aching.

Huh. Guess I don’t mind.

Eli nips at my hip bone, sucking a bruise onto the pale skin. He catches my eye and smirks as I unhook my bra and let it drop.

“Since when are models shy, baby?”

I bite my lip. My breasts are warm when I cup them, squeezing and pinching my nipples.

“You’re right. We’re not.”

The knowledge that someone might see us makes my pussy throb. I widen my legs as Eli drags my panties down.

Maybe I want people to see us. To know that he’s mine. To watch me ride his face, my head tipped back in pleasure.

So I don’t hold back. When his fingers slide over my slick folds, brushing at my clit, I moan and buck my hips. I moan loud enough that it echoes around the pool house, and when Eli slings one of my legs over his shoulders, I rub myself on his tongue. He works me until I’m wound tight as a corkscrew, and only then does he push to his feet and unbutton his jeans.

“You gonna take my cock, baby?” His gaze is dark. Glittering. I nod, reaching for him with trembling hands. He laughs, the sound almost cruel, and god, I love that too. I follow him like a dazed puppy when he strides naked to the pool.

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