Feeling myself jerk, about to come myself, I realize that I’ve been watching her as she cleans, thrashing my meat without even realizing it. The thick bead of my own near climax runs freely as I fight the urge I’ve had since the moment I saw her.
She wants to, I know she does. But like me, not here. She’s given me a taste of her paradise, I don’t want to sully its waters in a bulletproof hotel room.
Once she moves out into the other rooms, I have to follow her. Slipping out of my pants and into a robe, I feel a little more comfortable. It just feels more natural to be mostly naked with Sophie around.
She starts to vacuum, giving me coy little looks and I cock a brow or curl my lip with pleasure as I find I can actually start to arrange some of my thoughts as well as my mountain of files.
There’s something soothing about having her here, something I’ve never felt before. Within a matter of minutes, I see a section of one file and make instant connections with a whole bunch of other information.
It’s like she’s a lucky charm for me.
My biggest distraction might turn out to be my greatest asset.
Sophie cleans, and my eyes drift from her to my work for a while, must be a good half hour. Looking up I see she’s making her way from the kitchen area back towards the bedroom, we both smile a little.
I give her an encouraging nod, letting her know it’s okay if she goes ahead where I can’t watch. For a while at least.
“I’ll be right here,” I remind her, groaning with satisfaction again as I watch her behind sway as she walks away from me like it’s winking at me.
Teasing me.
The door clicks loudly, and before I can do anything, Partridge is in the doorway, flustered.
“Jesus, man can’t you knock?” I growl angrily.
I stand up, making sure my robe’s shut and Sophie’s out of sight, but Partridge seems to wound up to notice anything.
“The guard? Out front, where is he?” he asks me, his mouth dropping open with horror as he realizes he’s not at his post.
“How the hell should I know,” I snap back at him. “I’m locked in here, remember? And if he’s not out there, who was gonna let Sophie out? What if the damned building caught fire? I don’t like this anymore, Partridge, I want out. I’m gonna do things my way from now on,” I hear myself say, shouting at him now, my hands balled into fists.
The thought of Sophie being trapped or not able to get out if something ever happened, it’s too much for me.
Partridge collects himself, his eyes narrowing on me. “Sophie, eh?” he sneers, looking at me sideways, but we’re both interrupted by a noise, Partridge reaching into his jacket out of reflex.
It’s the guard, tucking his shirt into his pants, wearing a dreamy look that he might well have just borrowed from me or Sophie about a half-hour ago.
His face is flushed, his hair scattered.
Partridge is all over him, angry and with a million questions, but anyone could see at a glance what the guy’s been up to.
The question is, who’s his lucky partner if he’s guarding a mafia informant?
It makes me like it all even less, but at the same time, it gives me a very good idea.
If loverboy here has a habit of roughing up someone else’s bed while mine’s being made up, it could be the chance I need to getaway.
To get Sophie and me away from here, to start leading my own case, on my own terms.
I wait for Partridge to give the guard his dressing down, then once he’s gone back out into the hall to resume his post, I tell Partridge what I think about it all.
“See?” I ask him with nothing but spite in my voice. “It’s more than just no towels and bad food. You can’t even guarantee I’m being guarded at any hour of the day or night. How can you?”
Partridge opens his mouth to speak, but Sophie comes back into the room looking worried. Most likely from hearing me shouting.
She’s dressed again, and unlike our guard out front, no one would ever know what she’s really been doing with me in here for the past hour or more.
Partridge looks from Sophie to me, then back again. Grunting to himself, he seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he’s made.
“You’ll stay put, for now, Slade,” he says with some bitterness, never liking his own orders being questioned, especially from me.
He comes closer to me, only glancing over to Sophie, who’s busying herself by gathering up the trash bags and packing up the last of her cleaning gear.
I struggle to focus on Partridge, having discovered my new hobby of watching Sophie at work, at play, at anything. I’m not so sure I want to give it up for today just yet.
“I think you’re onto something, Slade. About that DA, Fellini,” he whispers, getting about as close as I’d like as he glances back at Sophie for another moment.
It’s too close. But hearing him come around to my way of thinking is the first step if we’re gonna beat the whole De Falco crime family racket.
His eyes are narrow again like he doesn’t trust anyone.
If it was a few hours earlier, before Sophie, I’d say I had the same look in my eyes too. But I trust Sophie, and I know he does too.
“I’ve done some digging, Ben. The DA, she’s switched, teams. I can feel it. I just can’t prove it,” he says with an air of frustration.
Welcome to my world buddy.
Still, better Partridge be a little slow on the uptake than not at all.
“I can’t build a solid case cooped up in here, Partridge. You should know that.” I protest again.
“And we won’t have one at all if you’re dead,” he retorts, making Sophie gasp from across the room. She pretends it’s because she dropped a trash bag, but the look in her eyes tells me everything.
Not long now, Sophie. I’ll get us both out of here. I’ll figure something out.
Partridge suddenly softens his mood, putting on that fake smile that’s all front.
“Well, that’s enough excitement for one day for you, young lady,” he says, holding his hand out towards the door.
“Let’s get you home, you can come back again next week, maybe,” he says with finality.
“Next week!”
Both Sophie and I cry it out at the same time, making Partridge look edgy again, suspicious.
“Those sheets need changing every day,” Sophie chimes.
“And the bathroom,” I add urgently. “And what about more food, fresh clothes?” I say louder, almost whining.
The thought of Sophie leaving and me not being able to even contact her, let alone know she’s safe sends a wedge of despair right through me.
“Well, we’ll see,” is all Partridge offers, looking at his watch before hurrying Sophie out with an impatient look.
I move over, picking up some of the trash and holding her wrist where Partridge can’t see it.
“I don’t want you anywhere but by my side,” I tell her in a low voice.
“Oh, Ben! I want you… I should have let you-”
But Partridge is giving her the bum’s rush.
“C’mon already! Ben, let me get those, for Christ’s sake,” he groans, moving over to snatch the trash from me.
“I’ll think of something,” I tell her quickly.
Watching helplessly as they both leave, just before the steel door slams closed again, she turns long enough to mouth the three words that kindle my heart, my very soul into action.
I love you.
Chapter Nine
Sophie
I’ve never walked around half naked, not even by myself at home. But with Ben watching and the obvious effect it has on him, I think I’m hooked.
I could clean for hours, knowing how hot it makes him, as long as he helped finish me off like I know he can now.
The pressure to go all the way is in my own mind, I tell myself. Ben’s older, more mature. He’s more interested in protecting me and my feelings than just having his way with me.
The place is
looking spotless in no time, so I slow it down some, making sure Ben has an eyeful of what he likes, and I get to feel like I’m giving him a show that makes him happy too.
But it’s like I’m cursed or something. Like bad luck just follows me around.
On the greatest day, the most memorable afternoon of my life, it all changes in a minute.
I’ve moved into the bedroom to finish up cleaning there, plus I take great care in cleaning up Ben’s bathroom.
His special gift for me almost a shame to mop up, the man’s a machine.
Then I hear him again, that Partridge agent. Always bursting in unannounced, always telling people what’s what. I wonder if he somehow has it in for Ben, but I’m more grateful to be out of the room when he does rush in.
I rush myself, to get dressed, to get decent, promising myself I’ll do whatever Ben wants, whenever he wants from now on.
Parading myself in front of him has made me so hot, I shudder as I slip back into my skirt, aching for Ben’s hands all over me.
Yearning for that hot length of his to somehow get all the way up inside me.
Holding back, I listen but can’t hear too much. Finally, I pluck up the courage to enter the room, busying myself with the trash and equipment.
And just as magically as it all started, it’s over.
Partridge practically drags me out of there, telling me it might be tomorrow, might be next week when I can come to Ben again.
It breaks my heart, and I can see the effect it has on Ben, who I know has a plan already.
Doesn’t he?
I can’t be sure, so before the door closes, as I mouth the words I have to let Ben know, I slip a length of tape I found in the kitchen over the latch on the steel door.
The door clunks behind Partridge and me, but there’s no tell-tale snap. Nobody seems to notice, but I only hope Ben does. Along with what’s written in tiny writing on it.
It’s all I can think of to even give him a chance at getting out of there, doing things his own way.
Doing me too, hopefully.
The ride back to my place is a quiet one until Partridge breaks my train of thought, which is of course, only about Ben.
“Everything alright?” he asks, sounding more like my dad than anything else.
My dad! He’ll throw a fit once he hears about this.
“Fine,” I murmur, looking out the window, not daring to cross my legs yet. The memory of Ben’s touch is still too strong.
“Well, you got your check,” he continues absently. “And just remember what we spoke about. About not telling anyone.”
I nod with determination, turning to face him. “I won’t,” I tell him truthfully.
If only you know how much I won’t.
“Not even your dad,” he adds, and I feel a jolt of panic at the mention of my Dad.
“It’s alright, Sophie. We did our homework before approaching you for the job… your father’s as clean a cop as you’ll ever find. Plus…” but he trails off.
“Plus what?” I ask, sensing he has more to say.
“Nothing,” he adds quickly. “Just we also picked you because it wouldn’t give you or Ben any other ideas. Not like that damned guard back there...” he trails off.
I feel confused, then angry.
“Just what do you mean?” I snap, but Partridge only smiles.
“Never mind,” he says, waving his hand. “It’s nothing, but that guard? Don’t think for a second I don’t know what he’s up to. We have more than one witness or informant on that floor, in that whole building.”
But I don’t care about that, I’m more hurt by what he’s just said about leaving me and Ben alone together.
“So, you wanted a trustworthy but ugly maid, is that it?” I ask, watching his reaction.
He winces, almost thinks about backpedaling, but lets it go.
“I never said that Sophie, you just did. Just remember what I said about keeping quiet, okay?”
He glances over, his eyes are tired but clear. I nod and he creases a smile.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, and drives on in silence until we reach my building.
“There’s more than one set of eyes on you and your house, Sophie, so don’t worry about your own safety. Here’s my direct number if you get stuck,” he says, pressing a small card into my hand.
“But… I mean, what about-” I stammer, suddenly remembering I don’t know when I’ll even get to see Ben again.
“I’ll be in touch about your next cleaning appointment,” he says dryly. I feel like I’ve been punched, but keep a brave face up, even just for Ben.
I make my way inside, feeling that there is someone, or something watching the place. But it’s not the same feeling I had when I knew Ben was watching me, which is all I want now.
It’s all I’ll ever want, and as soon as I’m inside, I throw myself face down on my bed and cry.
I cry for Ben. I cry for always being the chunky girl that never gets picked for anything and when I do I lose anyway, but most of all I cry because I don’t know when, or even if I’ll see Ben ever again.
My heart has gone from being captured and pampered to feeling broken all in one day.
Eventually exhausted and having no more tears to cry I feel myself slipping into a deep sleep.
It’s dark when I wake up, my throat hurts and my eyes sting still from crying so much.
The only plus is when I move to stand, I have a pleasant, warm ache between my legs still. It makes me smile, and even though it hurts to think of Ben because I might not see him again, I’ll always have the memory of that one time at least.
I should’ve let him have me. I should’ve begged him to take me like I need it.
Dammit!
With my hands on my temples, I make my way to the bathroom, telling myself that there’s no way Ben will let it go, he couldn’t. He said he would find a way for us to be together. I have to trust that he will.
But after so many years of either finishing last, or never finishing at all, my old doubt and insecurities start to creep back in.
I figure a hot bath might do me some good, so I start filling the tub.
I hear my phone, but let it go to voice mail. The sudden thought of my dad again makes me almost wish I’d switched it off, but there’s always that chance-
That what? Ben will call?
How can he?
Sighing as I make my way to the phone, I pick it up and carry it back to the bathroom, glad to be able to start to undress after a long and upsetting day.
It rings again, a private number.
I switch the volume down, determined to at least have one last pleasure for the day in the form of a bath.
I’m naked, waiting for the tub to be just right when I notice a shadow pass across the window.
I scream involuntarily. Mainly because I’m also on the fifth floor.
The only way anyone could be up here is on the fire escape, which I remember is so rusty nobody would dare use it, even if the building did catch fire.
I snatch the robe from the back of the bathroom door, and with my heart pounding, I race to find the number Partridge gave me.
My pulse is like thunder in my ears, my hands shake so bad I drop the card.
Bending down to pick it up, I scream out loud again before a strong hand covers my mouth, lifting me up effortlessly.
The familiar scent, the warmth of his body behind mine, plus the tell-tale thickness of the line of heat running halfway up my back, I heave a sigh of relief.
Ben!
Chapter Ten
Ben
Once I see Partridge shrug like he doesn’t know if or when she’ll be back, and after I promise Sophie I’d find a way, I almost feel lost. Like I’ll never get out.
Until I hear the door.
It doesn’t close like it usually does.
I wait a few minutes, go over to it, and listening out, I hear another door opposite in the hall open then close.
I wait again,
then buzz for the guard.
Nothing.
Examining the door, I can see the tape, I know Sophie somehow managed to slide a section across the bolt.
Good girl. Clever girl.
My girl.
Taking a breath, I gently open it and peer out.
Empty hall and no guard again, I figure he’s gone straight back to whatever or whoever he’s been doing across the hall.
Although, I can’t be certain it was right across the hall, or a few doors down.
Truth is, I didn’t even know if anyone else was really in this building.
I guess there’s a lot I still don’t know, but I’m not planning on spending another night here to try and find out.
I busy myself, taking only the most crucial files I need and packing them, along with my laptop in my backpack.
Once I have everything, I slip out for the last time, taking off the tape from the door and stealing down the corridor to the elevators.
The sound of a door makes me turn quickly, and holding the elevator open I peek around before letting it close.
It’s the guard, sure enough. Coming out from a room two doors down from mine across the hall, he’s kissing a woman.
Before she closes her door herself, she glances down towards me but I duck my head, looking back I see her profile for a split second before she disappears again.
I’d know that profile anywhere.
District Attorney Daniella Fellini.
But what the hell is she doing here of all places?
What’s more, what is she doing with the guard? He’s not a bad looking fella, but she has a certain type.
District Attorney Barbie they called her at the office, not a real lot of brains but more boobs, big hair, and fake tan then anything else. Plus, a lot of obscure connections.
I never liked her, and she liked me even less after I brushed off her forward advances towards me. It was as though from that day my life, my work with the criminal families took a downhill turn somehow.
She’s certainly not my type, but seeing her here, screwing the guy who’s guarding me?
I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.
I let the elevator doors close and shake my head as I think all the way to the ground floor.
Maid For The Mafia Informant: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance Page 5
