At Your Service

by Alysha Ellis

  “Not for a while, Henry.” She held out her glass for another. “Can we tell Bassett we don’t want dinner after all? Would Mrs Bassett be offended? I’d rather go to bed with you, Henry…now.”

  “Oh, darling. I’ll just tell Bassett that we’ll eat later. They can go home.”

  She watched him as he hurried towards the kitchen and thought how it’d been a win-win situation all round, except for Christopher Mortlock, but with his talents he’d surely find his way in the world, out there in the colonies.

  The only small concern she had was the noticeable swelling of her breasts and the darkening of her nipples. Could Mortlock have left her and Henry a farewell present? Could he have succeeded in the one area where Henry and she had failed in all the years of their marriage? A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she remembered how Henry often said Mortlock certainly had the knack of getting seeds to germinate.

  * * * *

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs entwined, noses almost touching, their breath mingling, they enjoyed the afterglow of sexual satisfaction.

  “So you think you might be with child, Helen?”

  Dear Henry, such an old fashioned expression. “Yes, I think I must be. A doctor’s visit will confirm it, but yes, I think I am. Do you mind?”

  “What? After all the years we’ve tried, not one jot do I mind. It’s probably Mortlock’s, but it could be mine. It doesn’t matter, Helen, it’ll be ours. An autumn lamb for the Montrose’s, I can hear society muttering already.” He chuckled.

  “Do you want a son and heir, Henry?”

  “Not really, I’d rather have a daughter, the mirror image of her mother.”

  She stroked his face, running her fingers down his jawline and kissed the tip of his nose. “I do love you so, Lord Montrose.”

  “And I love you too, Helen. My lady, my rose.”

  About the Author

  I have played with words most of my life and now have the time to put my dreams and fantasies on to paper. I’m a published poet and I try to put poetic images into my prose. I endeavour to express my ideas in a manner that will entertain and amuse.

  I live in the aptly named Bay of Plenty, New Zealand, close to the coast and its long white beaches.

  Email: virginniadeparte@gmail.com

  Virginnia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  THE BUTLER DID IT

  Kate Deveaux

  Dedication

  For BRD

  Forever isn’t long enough

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  People: Time, Inc.

  Ferragamo: Salvatore Ferragamo S.p.A.

  Lillet: Lillet

  Bombay Sapphire: Bombay Sapphire

  GQ: Condé Nast Publications

  Ermenegildo Zegna: Ermenegildo Zegna Holditalia S.p.A.

  Bentley: Bentley Motors Limited

  Versace: Gianni Versace S.p.A.

  Baccarat: Baccarat Crystal, Groupe du Louvre, Starwood Capital Group.

  Cointreau: Rémy Cointreau

  Jimmy Choo: J. Choo Limited

  Chapter One

  Clarkson Dale rose to his full six-foot-four frame as he rode the private elevator in the swanky new high rise to the penthouse. He’d been out of work for a month and had been grateful to finally get the call from the agency for his new posting. The elevator zipped along silently until a loud ding announced he had arrived at the forty-first floor.

  Stepping out on the top floor, he found himself in a private lobby with two impressive carved wood doors, and behind those, his new employer. The agency had provided him with a brief bio. He recognised his employer’s name from the newspapers and People magazine, as she was a leading fashion designer and had recently purchased the largest condominium in Miami.

  Vivienne Martin heard the door chime echo across her vast penthouse. She put the phone down and impatiently called for Marie to answer it. The bell chimed again but still no Marie. Just where had her maid got to? And how was Vi supposed to get any work done around here if she had to answer both the phone and door at the same time? A reminder of just why she had let the agency know she was desperate for a butler for her new sprawling Miami retreat. Exasperated, she left her office, her Ferragamo spiked heels clicking as she strode quickly across the marble foyer.

  Smoothing her skirt, she opened the front door widely and smiled.

  “Ms Martin?” Clarkson asked, with surprise.

  “And you are?” she asked of the hunky well-dressed man before her. Damn the media, he was probably a reporter looking for the newest scoop on her Miami retreat.

  “Clarkson Dale,” he stammered slightly, his eyes lingering on her silk blouse, unbuttoned to reveal ample cleavage. “The agency sent me. You requested a butler.”

  “Clarkson, last name or first?” she said crisply, relieved that he was the new butler. He could deal with the snooping press from now on—he was tall enough and built well enough to take them on.

  He just stared at her. He probably wasn’t used to an employer answering her own door. That made two of them. “Clarkson, first name, madam,” he said politely.

  “Madam,” she snorted, and she saw a smile flicker across his chiselled face. “No one’s ever called me that. Now come on, Clarkson, I don’t have all day to stand here. The sooner you get to work the better. I’ll give you a quick tour—I don’t know where Maria got to. She’s the maid and she should really show you around, but I guess I’ll have to.”

  “Yes, madam,” he said, following her into the lavishly decorated surroundings.

  “Vivienne,” she said, “but I prefer you address me Ms Vi. Definitely not madam.”

  “Of course, Ms Vi.”

  She glanced back to catch him eyeing the sashay of her pencil skirt. It was one of her own designs and she was well aware that it accentuated her pert ass. But she also knew that as a professional butler, he knew better than to think of his employer in anything but a professional sense.

  She smiled, sensing his gaze boring in-to her as she led the way, and paused in the middle of the grand room, with its unobstructed wall to wall view of the ocean. She turned to look at him. “This is the living room. I like the bar stocked at all times. I drink Lillet on the rocks,” she said, gesturing to the wall that housed fine art as well as a substantial bar. “Sometimes G&T, Bombay Sapphire, lots of ice and slivers of lime.” She was uncharacteristically self-conscious as he stood close to her, aware of the rise and fall of his broad chest. Clarkson was the sexiest damn butler she’d ever seen. Here, she had thought she’d be getting some old fogey, but no, Clarkson Dale looked more like a GQ model than any butler she’d ever employed or had met at any of her friends’ houses. And that Italian designer suit fit him like a glove. She’d like to be a suit of his.

  She showed him the kitchen area, introducing him to her chef, Michel—a young Cordon Bleu trained chef straight from Monaco. Clarkson saw the way Michel’s steel-blue eyes devoured his employer’s curves as she leaned on the counter looking at the day’s menu, the opening in her blouse revealing the promise of smooth round breasts. Who could blame the young man for his indiscretion? Their employer exuded sensuality with every move she took.

  Leaving the kitchen and Michel’s admiring attentions, Vi continued to give Clarkson a brief overview of the household he would be supervising. She showed him the dining room, and the substantial glass table that was flanked by a million dollar view of the Miami coastline. She told him she had dinner there every night when she was in residence, sometimes with guests, sometimes alone.

  He barely said a word as he took in the palatial home that seemed to almost float in the clear blue Miami sky, and tried his damnedest to focus on his new job rather than on Vi’s luscious curves and seductive green eyes. They toured all the rooms on the main fl
oor, finishing with a state of the art workout room, before she started to climb the staircase to the second floor of the penthouse. He could barely concentrate as he followed her toned legs up the plush carpeted stairs. Some of his employers never stepped foot in their home gyms, they were strictly just for show, but obviously Ms Vi actually used all that workout equipment in order to have a body like hers. Concentrate, he scolded himself.

  “The top floor is my master suite,” she said, gesturing grandly to the expansive second floor that was cantilevered over the massive living room below. “I spend most of my time in my office or in my gym, but if you can’t find me there I am up here.” She led him through a set of double doors to her bedroom.

  He gulped as he spotted the king-sized bed draped in taupe silk in the centre of the room. She wandered slowly over to her bed then ran her hand across the satin coverlet before meeting his eyes with a sultry smile.

  His mouth went dry, his eyes locked with hers and he caught a blush on her cheeks. Was she thinking what he was thinking? God, he hoped not. He’d be fired before he even started.

  “Let me show you my closet,” she said, holding his eyes. “I am very particular about it and how I like my clothes laid out. Must be the designer in me.”

  “Of course, Ms Vi,” he said, following her once again.

  “Clarkson, you’ll be supervising Maria and the other staff, her assistant Mathilde, Michel the chef, the chauffeur, the rooftop gardeners and my pilot. There’s a heli pad on the roof. Now, as for Maria… Well, she’s not that reliable—as you may have noticed from her absence. I trust you’ll sort that out.” Vi let out an exasperated sigh. “And please make sure she lays out the outfits for me to wear the following day, ready for me to review the night before.”

  “Of course, Ms Vi.”

  “Is that all you have to say, ‘Of course, Ms Vi’?” she asked with what he detected was a playful tone, leading him to her walk-through-closet—a closet the size of most people’s living rooms.

  “Of course, Ms Vi,” he replied, pushing the envelope, unsure how she would respond.

  Her eyes sparkled as she laughed. “You’ve a quick wit, Clarkson, we’ll get along just fine,” she said.

  He struggled to maintain his employee status standing in her closet, only too aware of her tempting curves and smouldering gaze.

  “How old are you, Clarkson, may I ask?”

  “Thirty-two, Ms Vi. Is that a problem?” His lips were parched at the want of her as he imagined just what her lips could do. Not now! He needed this job. He’d miss his car payment this month if he didn’t get a pay cheque. The last thing he needed was this Vivienne Martin sending him back to the agency.

  “No, perfect,” she said, running her hands along a green silk dress as she continued through the closet.

  His cock pressed against his pants at the sight of her delicate fingers thumbing the fabric and her appreciative gaze as she looked at him. He hoped she didn’t see his evident arousal, but he had a suspicion she had when she flashed a devilish look his way before ushering him through to her large bathroom.

  “I like a tub drawn every night. Maria is hopeless, so I’ll leave it for you to do. Not too hot,” she said.

  As she stepped past him, he couldn’t help visions of their naked bodies frolicking in the water from popping into his head.

  “Come to think of it, I might like one now,” she said, with a slow smile, motioning for him to draw her a bath. “I’ll be in my bedroom. Let me know when it’s ready.”

  What the fuck? He was a professionally trained butler and he’d worked for some of the richest and most prominent families in the US and overseas, and now he was standing in his drop dead gorgeous employer’s bathroom with an obvious erection. Thankfully, she’d gone back to her room. Suppressing his overt desire, he proficiently went about drawing her bath, harnessing his most professional demeanour. He set out the tray of soaps and a few fluffy towels beside the tub and dimmed the lights. When the bubbles reached the top of the gigantic tub, he checked to make sure he’d thought of everything his employer might want and realised she’d need her robe.

  He stepped inside her closet. “Oh.” He paused with a gasp. Vi was bent over, slipping out of her skirt, her see-through lace panties revealing her perfectly shaped ass. Her eyes widened in surprise as the skirt slithered to her feet.

  “Excuse me, Ms Vi, I thought you were in the bedroom,” he said, quickly averting his eyes. “Your bath is ready.”

  “Clarkson?” she called.

  He mustered his self-control and turned back to her, diverting his gaze to the row of clothes hanging orderly behind her to avoid looking directly at her half-naked body.

  She smiled tentatively at him, stepping towards him in just her bra and panties.

  He should move, leave the room, but he could not command a muscle. He longed for those full breasts, to feel the smooth curve of that body under his touch. It wasn’t professional to have these feelings for his boss, he knew better. He was damned if he refused the enticing temptress before him and damned if he gave into his desire and she accused him of coming on to her.

  She smiled as if she could read his mind and reached out for him. Oh shit, to hell with the job. He could always get another one. He pulled her close to him, her body was so soft and hot, pressing against him. His cock yearned for her. His lips met hers, and he brushed the long auburn tendrils from her face. He pushed his tongue into her soft and welcoming mouth, feeling her shudder as he grasped her round buttocks and squeezed her against him.

  “Umm,” she murmured, roaming her hands across his wide back, under his suit jacket. His muscles rippled under her fingers as she dug into them. She explored his mouth, tasting him, wanting more—it had been so long since she’d been with a man, too long. And now this sexy butler, ten years her junior, had arrived. She knew it was wrong—she didn’t normally mingle with the help, a little fantasising here and there was the most she’d succumbed to. But this guy was way too hot to resist. Kissing him deeply, she grazed her hands down his back then to the front of his pants, fumbling with his button. She undid his zipper and his cock burst free from his pants. Vi eagerly took his thick erection in her hand, her lips never leaving his as she flicked her thumb over his tip, slick with pre-cum, making him gasp at her touch as she teased him.

  His lips travelled quickly along her neck, his hands finding the swell of her breasts. He slid his hand into her lace bra, freeing one breast so it spilled out from the cup, rubbing her nipple. She moaned and pressed her body into him, feeling his cock throbbing with each firm stroke of her hand and she could tell he was as turned on as she was. He pulled her top over her head, keeping her gaze as he undid her bra, before kissing her from her neck to her breast, taking a nipple between his lips. She groaned at the delicious sensation of his hot mouth sucking her erect nipple as his hands slid across her curves, pulling her closer to him. Eager for more, she slipped off her panties. Her pussy was wet with anticipation and she quivered as he slid one finger between her tender folds, making her tremble. She was going to come if he kept this up—she ached to feel his thick cock deep inside her.

  “I want you,” she gasped as she thrust against his hand, the pulse of his rock-hard cock quickening in her grasp. “Condom,” she managed to murmur between soft groans of pleasure.

  “I don’t usually carry condoms on me…when I’m dressed for work,” he said, looking up at her with hesitation.

  “But I thought a butler was always prepared.” She flashed him a wicked smile and was rewarded with an equally seductive glint in his eyes as he grabbed her ass and pulled her hard to him, his cock stiff against her.

  “Oh, I’m prepared, Ms Vi,” he teased, looking at his cock then back up at her.

  Her eyes met his. She wanted his massive erection buried deep within her. “Oh, yes, I see that,” she said glancing down again as he began to slide along her body, nibbling his way south.

  “Oh,” she murmured in approval, then pulled him
back up to her, kissing him fully on the lips. “But I want you inside me—and I’m used to getting what I want,” she taunted, pulling away and leaving him standing there half-naked in her closet. “Come with me,” she called back to him, disappearing into her opulent bathroom.

  Vi grinned to herself as she heard him quickly clamber out of his remaining clothes and hurry after her. The room was thick with steam from the bath he’d drawn her and the lights were low as she fumbled for a condom in her drawer.

  She smiled at him, enjoying the vision of him standing there before her, naked and fully erect. She knelt in front of him, looking up at his muscled physique, then rolled the condom onto his hard shaft while stroking his balls with her free hand. He moaned and grasped her long hair with his fist as she stroked his sheathed cock before standing to rub it across her slick pussy, teasing her clit with the tip of his shaft. Turning her back to him, she leaned against his rigid body, feeling his erection pressing between her thighs. Eagerly, he kissed and nipped at her neck and shoulder.

  She wanted him. Bending forward, she arched her back slightly and reached through her legs for his thick cock. She teased it along her moist folds, shuddering at his hardness parting her lips as she bore down on him in one movement, taking him deep inside her. He grabbed her hips as he thrust into her from behind. She watched their reflections in the mirror. Instead of it being impersonal, him fucking her from behind, it was the ultimate turn on as their faces and their bodies writhed with pleasure, reflected in the partially fogged mirror. His gaze met hers as he wrapped his strong arms around her and squeezed her breasts, pinching her erect nipples before moving to her sensitive clit, flicking his finger over her pulsing bud. Each deliberate stroke brought her closer to climax as he drove hard into her, her moans echoing through the dimly lit bathroom. Closing her eyes in pure delight, she shuddered, her channel tightening around his cock as she climaxed.