by Katie Ford
So yes, despite our unconventional beginnings, the starlet and the President found their way together. It was crazy, our first meeting taking place in a seedy joint called the Pink Flamingo. But you know what? It’s no crazier than on-line dating or using a matchmaker. And what’s important is that my true love is in my arms … for better or worse, richer or poorer, until death do us part.
THE END
His Princess
~The Billionaire’s Maid~
© 2018
By Gemma Wolf
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CHAPTER 1
HOWIE
My cock is rock hard and throbbing against the zipper of my tailored pants. If I stare at her too long, I’m going to have to take these Italian slacks back to the dry cleaners. I’ve never seen the maid by the couch in my penthouse before. I would have noticed a girl like that. She’s on her hands and knees by the white leather sofa, right in front of my penthouse window. She wipes the marble floor like it needs cleaning, but actually, this whole place is pristine.
I set my briefcase down on the kitchen counter while she work on the other side of the apartment. I keep her in my eye as I ask Edwin, my butler, about the new girl.
“Edwin, who is that?”
“Who, the maid?”
“Yes, the maid.” Her head perks up like she’s heard us talking. But no, the girl’s noticed a stain on the couch and sits upright and starts to wipe again. Her blonde hair is bound in a tight ponytail that reaches down her back. I can see her breathing. Her chest moves up and down. She’s on her knees on my floor. Her sweet cunt hovers over my Persian rug.
Edwin frowns while staring her way.
“We hired her while you were vacationing in Florence. Is there a problem with her services?”
“No problem at all, Edwin. Just asking.”
My butler nods and bows before scuttling off. Suddenly, it’s just the two of us together in the living room. The blonde’s kneeling now, stroking at a stain that doesn’t really exist. My cock twitches under my belt. I have to adjust my pants to hide my erection, but at that moment, she raises her face and I catch a glimpse of a perfect profile. Wow. Since when did Miss America clean house for others?
I know what you’re thinking. He’s just some rich asshole with no heart for others. He doesn’t care about the help, much less some poor girl who works for pennies. But you’re wrong. I’ve served my time, literally. I was in Afghanistan during 2007, where I almost lost my leg and my arm. I’ve known the grunts, and I’ve known the guys in charge too. But somehow, this girl changes the equation. All the memories of war rush away when I see her ponytail bobbing up and down on the other side of the white couch, intersecting with the tip of the Empire State Building looming in the penthouse window.
I clear my throat. I’ve got to say something. If I don’t, my cock is going to scream something rude and crass. In fact, there’s a little bulb of moisture coming out of the tip. And all this from seeing her ponytail, for god’s sake. I clear my throat again. This time the maid’s face turns, and the breath whooshes out of my chest.
Because she’s gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. Blue eyes as clear as the sky and lips like rose petals, ripe and velvety. She’s looking straight at me.
“Mr. Bates,” interrupts a voice to my left. It’s Albie, the elderly woman who is the head housekeeper of my New York property. “Mr. Bates, you’ve got a phone call.”
I try to bring my erection down. I try to think about Albie or someone else who’s old and decrepit. But it’s useless because I’ve seen that face now and my body’s on fire. Her chin hovers above lush, swaying breasts. Those tits scream out for me under the buttons.
Oh shit. I need her. My very own Cinderella.
But the phone call can’t be ignored, so I grunt something inarticulate and turn away, striding to my mahogany-paneled office. Seizing the receiver, I speak.
“Yes, go ahead and transfer the six hundred million. The offshore accounts are going to be fine. Look, next time you need my permission, go through my accountants, okay? You’ve interrupted a perfectly lovely afternoon.”
Because this business stuff is fucking boring. I’m thinking about how soft her lips are going to feel on my cock. I’m thinking about tonguing that pussy. Fuck, I’m thinking about tonguing that asshole even. I just want my mouth on that delectable maid.
The voice on the line burbles something that sounds like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon.
“No apology necessary,” is my grunt. “I’ll talk to you later.”
And with that, the call’s done. I hang up and fall back into my chair. I don’t really need to have any say in what goes on with my business affairs anymore. It’s all behind me. I made my money and now I’m free from all thoughts and cares because at this point, the money makes money by itself. After twenty years of slogging away, my company now runs like clockwork. Sure, they need my okay sometimes for big transactions, but for the most part, it runs on its own.
So that leaves me plenty of free time, and I use it. I’ve got my penthouse, my vacations, and my… service team.
A knock comes on the door.
“What is it?”
“I’m coming to pick up the trash.”
I know at once it’s her. I can just tell. No one else in this house has a voice like that. Musical, innocent, and sweet. She sounds younger than I thought. My cock stiffens again at the thought of everything I want to do to the sweet female.
“Come,” is my commanding tone.
She does as she’s told. Good. Just as expected, there’s Cinderella, dressed in a short black and white maid’s uniform. I can see her full frontal now, and it makes my mouth water. Long legs coated in beige nylon. Face like a princess. A tiny waist that flares into full, round ass. Boobs straining mightily against the tight button holes of the uniform.
Perfect. Just perfect. Because everything about her look screams “my type.” But to my surprise, I’m at a loss for what to say and how to command her. It’s odd because usually these things come naturally to me. I know how to use women, and I definitely know how to make them feel good.
So to find myself frozen, the words melting on my lips, is weird. But I guess it makes sense in some messed-up way because ever since getting back from Afghanistan, things have been off. Sure, I still go to the nude beaches and debauched parties in SoHo filled with celebrities. But I’m not into it anymore. Instead, I’ve been totally celibate, which isn’t my usual style. The therapist says its PTSD, but I call it Pretty Things Stopped Deploying. Shit is different now, and I don’t know how to get my mojo back.
But the blonde girl has one hundred percent of my attention. Now she’s coming near the other side of my desk to grab the trash. I scoot my chair back and my cock rages under my pants. I hope she doesn’t see because she’ll run screaming in fear, my package is that huge. Her supple breasts bounce as she nears, and I desperately want her to sit on my lap. I want to push myself inside her. I want to fill those holes with my straining length.
Fuck.
She bends before me, and I catch a whiff of her scent for the first time. Lilac perfume, sweet and light.
“Excuse me,” she smiles shyly, reaching under the desk. Her blonde ponytail grazes her cheek as she extracts the bag of trash.
“Miss?” I ask. She looks up, blue eyes wide and trusting. I hope she doesn’t see the bulge in my pants, but it’s near her face. She’s between me and the desk and it’s taking all of my control not to mount her from behind and tear through those nylons.
“Yes?” she murmurs.
“How long have you been working here?”
“I started a month ago.”
I smile smoothly.
“No wonder we haven’t met. I’m Howie. Howie Bates.” My dick twitches even as I extend a hand. She’s so near I can almost taste her. My
body calls out for the lush female. The perfect proportions have my mouth salivating, my dick twitching involuntarily in my pants. I can envision my cum dripping down the inside of her thighs. Fuck.
And the poor thing has no idea what I’m thinking because if she did, she’d sue for sexual harassment or some shit like that. Instead, the blonde smiles.
“I know.” Her voice is so soft as she clasps my hand. “Welcome home, Mr. Bates.”
The words move over her moist lips like poems, and my heart seizes. But I don’t want to hurt her. She’s so pretty. So young. So innocent.
“What’s a girl like you doing working a job like this?” I growl.
She blinks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re … well, if I may be frank, you’re drop-dead gorgeous.” I scoot my chair towards her a bit, and inch closer to her with my feet. She’s blushing. She turns to leave, cheeks flushed, but I can tell she’s holding back a smile. “You’re too pretty to work on the floor like that,” is my rumble.
She turns to face me.
“Like what?” she asks, lowering her hands to her thighs. “What do you mean, Sir?”
The tight black maid’s dress is at the tips of her fingers. If she wanted to lift up her skirt and show me, she could. Oh shit. I’m dying for a glimpse of that tight little pussy, wet and puffy. My cock twitches in anticipation. Good thing my pants are black because cum is leaking onto the fabric front. She’s got to be able to see the bulge.
But I keep going like nothing’s wrong.
“In the living room. I saw you, on all fours on the floor.”
She blushes again as I smile wolfishly.
“Don’t be shy. Look, I know I’m being a little forward. It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone like you before,” I say simply. “Never.”
And slowly, I raise my hand. The need is too strong, and I reach out to trace the bottom of her skirt with my fingertip.
“Mr. Bates, I-”
“Never in my whole life have I seen someone as pretty as you,” I trace my finger onto the nylon of her thigh now. My digit moves a little ways under her skirt now, gentle and unassuming. “May I?” is my courteous question.
Of course, she doesn’t really have a choice. I’m a self-made billionaire who’s as handsome as fuck, while she’s the maid who literally works on her hands and knees in front of me, scrubbing the floor. Our positions are so imbalanced that there’s only one right answer.
Imperceptibly, the girl nods.
“Good,” I say with satisfaction. Slowly, I move my hand between her legs and slide it gently up her thigh. Oh shit. My hand’s approaching a furnace, she’s so hot. And as my fingers move slowly up that luscious flesh, I feel it then. This girl’s so wet that she’s leaked through the fabric of her panties.
Oh yell yeah. Just my type.
I slide my hand over that juice and squeeze lightly through the lace, savoring the puffy, full flesh. She lets out a moan.
“Mr. Bates, I- …” The girl pants helplessly, eyes wide as she teeters before me. Just then Albie calls from the kitchen.
“Lacy, we need you out here. The grocery delivery just showed up!”
Fuck this! Fuck Albie! But in response, I pull my hand back from her cunt and take a deep sniff of those female juices on my fingertips.
“Lacy is it?” I grind out.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Lacy, I’m going to need to see you in my private bathroom when you’re finished helping Albie. There is a stain in the grout, and maybe you can help me get it out. We’ll use special tools.”
She smiles and it’s like the heavens singing, sunshine streaming through the clouds to bathe me in a warm light. I can’t help it. I have to know.
“What’s a girl like you doing cleaning house anyway?” I ask again.
But Lacy has me wrapped around her little finger already. With a mysterious smile, she leaves my office without bothering to answer. I watch her ass sway back and forth as she moves across the room. Now my cock is really raging. I need to dump my hot jism in her sweet holes, panting as she cums on my dick.
And I guess this is a good thing because I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Not since I first enlisted. Not since the first days of basic training when I ran my body hard, hurtling over obstacles with a gun in hand and a fifty-pound pack on my back. I felt alive then. But the years of war took something from me, and I’m looking for that missing piece now.
Maybe she’s it. Maybe this Cinderella will bring my body back to life and make me whole once more. I don’t know. I hope so.
I stride out of the office and down the hall to my bedroom. The bed’s done up in black satin sheets, and there’s a view of the New York City skyline worth millions. I imagine taking Lacy out of that little maid’s dress and throwing her on the sheets of my king-size mattress. How many lonely nights have I spent in that bed, sorrow coursing through my veins? Escaping the pain of having a perfectly toned body and a couple billion dollars in my bank account, but no sweet princess to share it with?
But now, maybe the story’s different. Lacy’s a part of my household now. She showed up in my home. She eats my food. She gets paid from my bank account. In short, the girl belongs to me, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I stride to the attached en suite where a massive shower stall beckons. I want to take her there. I want to jet my cum deep inside her as her curves quiver and shake, the blonde fucked so hard. But when the time comes, can I do it? It’s been so long.
Suddenly, there’s a soft knock and Lacy pushes the bathroom door open. I’m staring in front of the mirror, staring at my own reflection. My chiseled jaw and penetrating blue eyes look back at me, along with the ink-black hair I’ve had since birth. Yep, that’s me. Howard Bates, billionaire veteran.
“Mr. Bates?” she murmurs.
“Lacy. I’m so glad you could make it. I know you’re a dedicated worker, and you like to make dirty things clean again, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Bates,” she nods.
“Well, there’s something I need to show you on the floor. It’s a stain that I can’t seem to remove.”
“Where is it Mr. Bates?”
My dick is getting hard again. She’s so perfect and sexy. And so ready to get down on her hands and knees below my giant muscular dong.
“Lacy, it’s right here.” I tap my toe before me. Without any hesitation, she crouches down and gets on all fours in the shower stall. Oh shit, this female takes direction really well. My cock is rock hard as I watch her ass lift in the air, giant and round. Slowly, I move behind her.
“Do you see it Lacy?” is my low growl. I kneel behind her bottom. Fortunately, the floor in the bathroom is heated and made of warm stone.
“I don’t see anything Mr. Bates,” she murmurs, her nose an inch from the ground. Slowly, Lacy turns her head to gaze at me over her shoulder. Her perfect ponytail bobs up and down as she smiles knowingly. She wants it. I can feel the invitation in the air.
“Well then, it looks like we’re going to have to make a mess for you to clean up.”
She shakes her head, a little confused now.
“How would we do that Mr. Bates?” My cock is rock hard. It pushes the elastic of my boxer briefs. In one smooth stroke, I reach my hand and push her dress up high so that her entire ass is revealed.
Lacy gasps, her eyes going wide. She’s completely still kneeling on the floor of the shower stall, but all I can see is that teeny pink thong under her nylons.
“Don’t you worry about that,” is my low growl. And with that, I rip the seam at her ass with my hands and take handfuls of her tight cheeks in my hands, squeezing the soft flesh. I tear her thong off with my hands, the smell of horny pussy wafting to my nostrils.
“You like it, don’t you, you dirty girl? You wore these panties to tease me, didn’t you?”
“Yes Mr. Bates,” she pants. “Yes, yes.”
But I know something about her is different from the
usual sluts in my life. Lacy may act like she wants it dirty, but I can see the innocence in her eyes. She’s pure. So as much as I want to sink my dick into her tight cunt, I stop myself. It’s not right. She has to be ready for me first so that when we finally reach the edge, she’s begging for me for it. Lacy may be a maid right now, but I see the potential within. My Princess. Cinderella.
Slowly, I lean down and lap her plush pussy lips. Oh fuck. Fragrant juices drip from her tight hole onto my tongue. I push it in deep and slurp hungrily, before bringing my mouth to her clit to suckle. She moans.
“Yeah, you like that baby? Right here on the floor? You dirty little whore.”
And to be honest, Lacy tastes incredible, like warm honey and sweet musk. She is the most delicious woman in the world, and as I lick her from behind, I reach around and take handfuls of her tits. She moans louder. My cock rages, dying to push itself in. I want to put it in my maid so bad that it’s practically unstoppable now. My hunger rises to the fore.
“You taste so good!” is my low rasp, tongue running over her wet slit.
