Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Aren’t you supposed to carry condoms?”
“I…” She tries to yank her panties back up and I see black, almost ejaculating inside my briefs. She’s pretending to resist me, just as I need, and it’s even better than I expected. I’m feral. “The hotel doesn’t provide condoms for guests, sir. A-at least, I don’t think so. But either way, I’m a maid. Not a toy. You c-can’t just—”
“Fuck, angel, if you keep that up, I’m going to finish too fast.”
“Keep what up?”
I smooth a palm down the bare right cheek of her ass, grinding my teeth to find she’s firm and supple. I’ll have to take her from behind, too. She might not leave this room for a month. “The act.”
“Sir,” she breathes. “It’s not an act.”
A frisson of warning cuts into my lust and I frown, wondering if I’m missing something.
What if she’s really just a maid? But…no. She can’t be. What hotel maid looks like her?
Wanting to give myself some kind of double confirmation before I take her whining and kicking on the floor, I slip my fingers through the wet flesh of her cunt and find she’s soaking wet.
Lord.
Definitely a call girl.
If I were accidentally accosting a maid, she wouldn’t be aroused, right?
“You can put up a fight, but you want it,” I rasp in her ear, pushing two fingers past her slick entrance and—
She jerks between me and the door, slapping at my hand.
Holy shit. She’s tight.
Too tight.
Virginally tight.
“Please,” she whispers, trembling.
A chill passes over me. No. No way.
“You’re really…a maid?” Denial streaks through my nervous system when she nods. “Why are you wet?” Wishing I hadn’t asked that second question out loud, I try to wave it out of the air. “Forget I asked that.”
“What did you think I was?”
I close my eyes. “A call girl.”
She spins around, visibly embarrassed, and hastily fixes her clothing while I stand there, dumbfounded and still achingly erect. Knowing she’s a maid hasn’t dimmed my need one iota, but shit, I have made a huge error. I’ve inadvertently just traumatized this girl.
I rake both hands through my hair. “Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t tell anyone? I’m the one who fucked up.”
“But I’m the one who’ll get fired.”
That sinks in hard. She’s right. I do live in a world where I could assault a maid and the accusation would roll right off me like water off a duck’s back. That’s what money can do.
But I don’t allow money to dictate who I am. Not like my friends and family.
There’s no way to make this girl understand that, though. Not after what I’ve done.
“Are you going to?” she whispers, appearing stricken. “Tell anyone? Because my aunt really needs this job and if she lost it while I was filling in…I-I can’t get her fired after everything she’s done for me. Please, sir.”
I’m going to be sick.
She really thinks I’m a monster.
Maybe I am. Didn’t I just instruct her to run away from me? Fight me off?
Swallowing my shame, I hold up my hands and try to appear as non-threatening as possible. “This never happened, okay? I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, clasping her hands beneath her chin.
“But for the record, you did nothing wrong. I did.”
She blinks a few times, studying me. As if trying to decide if I’m good or evil.
“What is your name?” I ask, because I need to know. I need…her, frankly.
But there is no way in hell I’d let myself have her now. She’s a virgin. One who is working to make ends meet. Totally vulnerable. And whether I was unwitting or not, I took advantage.
“Vida,” she says softly.
“Vida. That means life, doesn’t it? In Spanish.”
“My mother was Cuban. What’s…” She ducks her head. “Never mind.”
“What’s my name?”
She chews her luscious bottom lip. “I shouldn’t be asking you questions.”
“You can ask me anything.” My arms are in torment from not being able to embrace her, but after what just happened, I have no right to touch her. “I’m Tripp. Sterling.”
Is it my imagination or do her eyes darken when she watches my mouth move?
“Again, I’m very sorry about everything, Mr. Sterling.” She reaches behind her back for the door handle. “But I really need to go.”
No. Stay. Instead of issuing that demand, however, I give a curt nod. “Of course.”
Before she slips out the door, her gaze traces down to my still-erect dick and her mouth parts on a shaky exhale, her tongue skating in slow motion across that full bottom lip.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I stumble forward and hump the heavy wood, imagining I’m inside her, those legs wide open around my hips, her little maid skirt rucked up around her waist. I pump, pump, pump, shaking the door on its hinges. In my head, she scratches at my face and screams at me to stop, even as her cunt gets damper and easier to fuck.