This wasn’t part of the plan, but the sensation of those big juicy ass cheeks grinding against my dick is sending captivating signals deep inside of me, compelling, deafening, making it impossible for me to think about anything else.
I reach forward and take her hips, pulling her toward me, rocking with her movements.
“Fuck,” I snarl, staring down at the way her gorgeously thick ass shifts and trembles.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she moans, as I grind myself harder and firmer against her.
I growl savagely when I feel her body going tighter, as though the horny minx is on the verge of a sudden orgasm already. I smirk and slide my hands down her hips, around, smoothing toward her begging sex.
She moans and tosses her head, gazing at me with those wide, stunned eyes that drive me so goddamn crazy. It’s like she’s screaming at me to stop and to keep going all at once like she’s trapped between thinking this is a trick and knowing it can’t be.
It feels too perfect to be a trick.
“It’s happening, so accept it,” I growl, sliding my hand right up between her legs. “Grind against my hand, Rosie.”
“Seriously?” she moans.
“Seriously,” I snarl. “Do what you’re fucking told. I need to feel you come.”
“But why?” she whimpers, as I press my forefinger through the thin fabric of her pajama bottoms, feeling her engorged clit.
“You’re joking,” I snap. “You can’t really be so naïve. Have you ever looked in a mirror, Rosie? You’re irresistible.”
“But—”
“Enough,” I snap. “Grind. Come. Do what you’re fucking told. Now.”
She whimpers and begins to shift against me, moving her hips against my hand.
Her hands shake and move, but then she lets them drop to her sides.
“What was that?” I growl.
“I wanted to grab your hand,” she whispers, still in that disbelieving voice.
“Then do it,” I smirk. “Whatever will make you come faster, you horny fucking thing.”
“Okay,” she moans, grabbing my hand with both of hers, reminding me of how small she really is—or how big I really am.
She shifts her hips and moans louder as if there’s a budding confidence in her waiting to be released. I drive my hips forward, pushing my manhood against her ass cheeks, grinding as I move my hand up and down in time with the motion of her body.
“Oh,” she whimpers. “Oh, fuck—I’m…”
She melts for me, the eager vixen.
Her whole body trembles and she collapses against me, as though her legs can’t take the force of the pleasure moving through her.
I growl and rub her harder, feeling the tempting wetness seep through her panties and her pajama bottoms, soaking my fingertips through the material.
She reaches up as I lean down, grabbing my face, clawing her fingernails down my cheek.
Her moans are a battle of shyness and confidence, shimmering in the air as though she thinks she can’t cry out too loudly.
I apply even more pressure to her center as she sings out with lust and need.
“I own you,” I growl in her ear. “I own this orgasm. I own your sweet wet hole. I own your ass and I own your fucking womb. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes,” she cries, still caught in the quivering captivation of her release.
“Say it,” I growl.
“You own me,” she moans. “Oh, God. You own me. I’m yours. I’m, ah… ah.”
“Again?” I growl, pumping my hand and my hips at the same time.
The sensation of her ass rubbing against my cock has my shaft set alight, blazing from my base right to the tip. If I was a weaker man, I’d explode with this feeling alone.
Her ass cheeks are heaven made flesh.
The second orgasm thunders through her at a frantic pace, turning her moans hollow and strangled as she pumps against me.
Finally, she falls back, panting, struggling to catch her breath.
I wrap my arms around her and cradle her close, letting my lips come to rest against her sweaty cheek.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” she moans.
I grab her shoulders and turn her around, staring down into her unsure eyes.
“Why can’t you believe it?” I demand.
“Because… Well—Jeez, Ryland, isn’t it obvious?”
I chuckle and lean down, bringing my face close to hers.
“Why are you laughing at me?” she whispers.
“I’m not laughing at you, you anxious little minx,” I growl. “I’m laughing because you’re so damn cute I can hardly stand it. Come here.”
I grab her luscious hips and pull her close to me, claiming her lips with mine. She gasps through the kiss, as though shocked, and then her lips part, and our tongues magnetize to each other.
It’s like our bodies have been waiting for hundreds of years to be close to each other, and now they’re not going to waste the opportunity.
I slide my hands around to her ass cheeks, palming them, squeezing them, and feeling the answering shivers move through her body. She pauses in the kiss when I push them together, our tongues touching.
“What is it?” I growl, breaking off the contact with an effort.
Her lips are so hot. They feel so damn good. Her mouth is heaven, made for kissing and smiling and fucking all at the same time.
“I just can’t—”
“Believe it,” I finish for her, shaking my head.
“Look at you, Ryland,” she murmurs. “And look at me. It makes no sense.”
“You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. I really don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I’m not sexy,” she murmurs.
“Rosie,” I snarl, beast-like. “If I tell you you’re sexy, that means you’re fucking sexy, understood?”
She flinches. “I’ve never been called sexy before,” she says.
I almost blurt it all out right now.
I almost tell her she’s mine, that she belongs to me.
That she’s going to give me a family one day.
But this is all rushing ahead so quickly. I don’t want to spook my horny naïve minx.
“Go and get changed,” I growl. “You’re my maid now, remember? I’ll show you how sexy you are.”
“Are you serious?” she says.
I stroke my hand around her hip, squeezing onto her ass and then tugging her toward me.
I drive my cock against her sex, my rock hard, throbbing cock.
“Does it feel like I’m serious?” I snarl. “Do what you’re told. Now.”
CHAPTER NINE
Rosie
I keep waiting for the punchline as I walk back to the library, dressed in the maid’s uniform Ryland left for me at the bottom of my wardrobe.
When he fell upon me in the library, I was sure there was some sort of twisted joke waiting beneath it all. I’ve never been wanted in that way, and especially not by a man like Ryland.
My lips – my mouth-lips and my other lips – are still tingling from what we did.
My nipples are tender and hard in the maid’s uniform, my breasts feeling weighty without a bra on. Excitement bubbles beneath the surface of this moment, but there’s something else, too, something grotesque and twisted.
This is a trick, the scared high schooler inside of me screams. He’s making fun of you.
I don’t want to believe it.
This is a lot of trouble to go through to make fun of somebody.
And yet the alternative doesn’t make any sense.
He said he found me sexy.
I’ve never been called that before.
I’ve definitely never felt it before.
He’s sitting beneath one of the towering bookshelves when I return, one leg laid across the other. His suit is slightly crumpled from what we did, creases in the stark silver, making him look even more savage and possessive.
He said he owned
me as he brought me to orgasm.
But I know he didn’t mean what I wish he did, that we’re going to be together forever, that we’re going to start a family together.
But then he did say he owned my womb, too.
What did he mean by that?
Maybe it was just dirty talk. It’s not as though I’ve got enough experience in this area to judge.
He stands up, his near silver eyes glinting in the lamplight of the library.
“Fucking hell,” he smirks, swaggering over to me with his hands behind his back.
His muscles throb and pulse in his steel-colored suit jacket, the tendons in his neck shimmering as though he could explode any second.
“Did you bring your duster, my little maid?” he snarls.
I’ve never been called little before, but I think he’s talking about our age, rather than my size. A thrill moves through me at the word, setting my nerves alight, making me want to reach out and grab the thick outline of his manhood.
“Yes,” I say, taking out the miniature duster and opening the contraption.
“Good little minx,” he smirks. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s time to clean.”
His eyes burn into me, his smirk captivating as it twitches toward a real smile.
But I think Ryland is too much of a wild beast to actually smile for real.
“Don’t you think I’ll need more than this little thing?” I murmur, giggling.
“Just bend that gorgeous ass over and start dusting, maid,” he smirks. “You’re not staying here for free, remember.”
I turn away from him, wondering if he’s laughing at me behind my back. The desire to accept this budding closeness rises inside of me like a deafening scream, moaning at me that I deserve this.
Just because the douchebags in high school never paid me any attention, it doesn’t mean nobody ever will.
I walk over to the nearest bookshelf, awed by the size of it, by the number of books. My heart swells and sings knowing that this man places such a high importance on books.
I wonder if I’ll get a chance to tell him about my passion for literature.
I wonder if he’ll care.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls as I bend forward, trailing the duster along the shelf. “Who told you to take your underwear off, Rosie?”
“They were all wet and sticky,” I murmur. “And I thought you’d want me too. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, his voice husky. “I can see how wet you are, glistening in the light. Your hole is so fucking pink. Your lips are so big and juicy looking, begging to be touched. Keep cleaning, maid.”
I move along the shelf, sticking my ass out for him, fireworks flaring through me when I hear the floorboards creak toward me. He walks calmly across the room, bringing with him his just-Ryland scent, musky and woodsy.
“Tell me you’re sexy,” he growls.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He takes another step forward, bringing his possessive hand to my thigh and squeezing down. I whimper and almost drop the duster, as he grips even harder, sinking his powerful hand into my flesh.
“Tell me, Rosie,” he snaps. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the goddamn truth,” he snarls.
“I’m sexy,” I say, quietly, as he inches his powerful grip further and further up my thigh.
“Say it like you mean it,” he grunts.
“I’m sexy, Ryland,” I moan.
Higher and higher, he moves his hand until he’s barely inches away from my sex, still sensitive from where he ground my panties against it earlier. And yet it throbs with neediness, begging for him to move up the rest of the way, to push against me with searing flesh-on-flesh contact.
“If you don’t start putting some fucking passion into it,” he growls, “I might have to spank you until you can’t sit down for a week. Now—say it.”
“I’m sexy,” I moan, voice shivering as his finger brushes along my lips, sending tempting tingling to my clit. “I’m sexy. Oh, that feels good.”
“You’re soaked,” he breathes. “You’re drenched. Have you ever been this excited before, Rosie?”
“Never,” I moan. “It feels so good.”
“I need to taste you,” he snarls.
I cry out in shock when he loops his arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet as though I weigh nothing.
I’ve never been held like this before. I feel like I’m flying.
“I’ve dropped the duster,” I giggle as he carries me across the marble floor, his shoes making clicking noises against the surface.
“Don’t worry about the damn duster,” he laughs savagely. “You’re still my horny maid. Don’t worry about that. But right now I’ve got a more important job for you.”
He lays me down on a table and looms over me, his clean shaven jaw tight as he glares down at me with savagery in his eyes.
“What?” I whimper.
“Cream for me,” he snarls. “I need to taste your come, Rosie. I just know it’s going to be as juicy and perfect as you are.”
I moan as he falls to his knees, sliding his hands from my ankles, up my calves, and over my thighs.
Sensations dance up my skin toward my sex, my clit singing a song of need even after the pleasure that rioted through me so recently.
He pulls me down the table and brings his face close to my sex, his warm breath whispering over my lips and my hole.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I can smell how wet you are.”
“Is it bad?” I murmur.
“You smell incredible,” he snarls. “I bet you taste the same.”
I stare down between my thighs, his silver hair dancing in the lamplight. His shoulders are like boulders barely contained within the prison of his steel-colored suit.
I bite down when he brings his tongue to the edge of my hole, skirting it teasingly.
He moves the tip of his tongue around and around, making my hole get wetter and warmer each second.
I let out an insistent moan. I don’t even mean to.
It’s like my womb sends the signal up through my body, screaming at me to make him touch my clit, to make him gift me more soul-searing pleasure.
He chuckles deeply, removing his tongue for a moment.
“You’re an eager thing, aren’t you? And don’t you fucking dare say sorry, Rosie. It’s not a bad thing. I love how horny you are.”
Love.
The word blazes a trail across my mind, leaving a shivering mass of want and need in its wake.
Even if I know it’s silly – even if I don’t know this man, and love should be the furthest thing from my mind – I can’t help but clasp the word close to me.
He sinks his fingers deeper into the flesh of my thighs, dragging his tongue from my hole up to my lips, toward my clit, pressing with so much firmness I can’t stop my thighs from juddering and wriggling, the blooming pleasure sending rhythms of desire through me.
I let out a cry when he finally brings the scorching tip of his tongue to my clit, swirling it around in captivating circles.
I bite down instinctively, killing the noise.
“If you want to scream,” Ryland growls, “fucking scream. Nobody can hear us. Your mother and her nurse’s room is on the other side of the estate.”
“It’s not that,” I moan, as his warm breath paints my sensitive sex.
“What, then?”
“I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” I whisper.
“This again?” he snarls. “You’re not making a fool of yourself, Rosie. You’re sexy. You’re captivating. You’re everything a man could ever desire in a woman. Now be a good little minx and squirt all over my mouth.”
He slides his hands further down my hips, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling me even closer to him.
I throw my head back and let out a shivering cry. His tongue burns against my clit, licking slowly at first, and then faster and faster until I feel a
s though the table is going to collapse beneath me.
My legs won’t stop twitching, my heartbeat sending the frantic movements through my body, making my toes tingle and my freaking scalp sizzle.
My clit flares as he somehow picks up speed, flickering his tongue against me, my clit feeling like it’s swelling to twice its normal size.
He growls through the movements, maybe sensing how close I am.
Soaked pressure swells in my sex, close to my hole like there’s a balloon full of starlight just waiting to explode and cascade through me.
“Oh—oh,” I moan, but I can’t say anything else.
My words cut off and something animalistic takes their place, my choked half-cries filling the room, rising to the round ceiling as I pump my hips against his face.
“That’s right,” Ryland growls. “Fucking work those hips. I can taste how close you are.”
I grind up and down, and he licks with superhuman speed, my clit flaring and becoming even more engorged.
Then everything seems to pause.
It’s like the world stops spinning, and only this moment exists.
The pressure explodes and my whole body judders and vibrates, my thighs closing around his head, trapping his face close to my sex.
He licks me faster, harsher, firmer, and I’m left completely at his mercy. All I can do is quake as the pleasure barrels through me at a hundred miles per hour, the wetness seeping out of me in euphoric waves.
“Oh my God,” I pant, growing slack on the table. “That was…”
I trail off when he stands up, reaching down for his belt.
His silver eyes are glassy, as though the beast inside of him has completely taken over now.
“I need to feel your wet hole,” he growls, pulling his belt loose and letting it drop to the floor with a metallic clatter. “I need—”
“Wait,” I say, sitting up quickly, shaking my head.
He steps back as though I’ve struck him.
“What’s wrong?” he says, letting his hands fall away from his trouser button.
“I… I want it, Ryland.”
“I know you do,” he snarls. “I can see that. I can taste that. I can smell that. So what’s wrong?”
I stand and walk over to the nearest bookshelf, pulling down the hem of my skirt, letting my eyes move over the spines of the books.
Maid for the Hitman: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 5
