Serving Him

by Cassandra Dee

  Now, compliments usually don’t do much for me. I’m surrounded by people who want shit, and often they’ll say anything to get it, along the lines of: “Mr. Caldwell, that was hilarious! That joke about the sandwich was so funny.”

  “Kane, I think you’re right. You’re absolutely right, one hundred percent.”

  And my personal favorite:

  “Oh god, your dick’s sooo big! I’ve never had bigger, oh shit, oh shit.”

  So yeah, I’ve had men, women, hell even children tell me what I want to hear, all in the hope of getting on my good side. But after decades of hearing the bullshit, you get accustomed to it. The words just slide off my back, they don’t even penetrate my brain anymore, so I’m definitely not getting juiced from frilly nothings. But somehow, with Becky it’s different. When the girl speaks, I’m listening, and not just that but I’m hanging onto her every word, my ears perking up to the musical tone of her voice. And like she knew, the brunette laughed lightly again.

  “You’re amazing Kane, really amazing,” she murmured, craning her head to cast me a sweet glance over her shoulder, the movement making my dick twitch within. “It was amazing, it gets better each time.”

  I grunted, trailing a big finger over the slope of her shoulder, lightly caressing that delicate skin. My chest puffed out with pride, she made me feel ten feet tall.

  “Naw, you’re amazing honey,” I ground out. “You’re delicious, baby girl, absolutely delicious.”

  Because shit yeah, Rebecca really is incredible. And I couldn’t help but tell her, which is also totally out of character. Compliments from me are pretty rare, generally I’m a wham, bam, thank you ma’am type of guy, maybe a slap on the ass, a tweak of her clit and I’m into the showers. But with Becky, everything’s been turned on its head. I was lingering in bed with the woman, savoring her female essence, just breathing deep of her aura, and it’s fucking insane, it feels so good. It’s fucking insane how this teen girl has such a hold on me, and I don’t even wanna think about it, it’s gotten so crazy.

  So when Becky laughed lightly again, wriggling her hips, I was all ears.

  “Baby want more?” I ground out. “Daddy’s got more for you.”

  The brunette merely giggled again.

  “I do want more,” she confirmed. “But I was wondering …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Wondering what?” I rumbled, lightly stroking her shoulders before caressing the sweet S of her waist. “Hmmm?”

  She mewled with pleasure, stretching a little.

  “I was just wondering,” she said breathily, “How much I’m getting paid?”

  That was a subject to make any man’s dick go limp. Because we never want to be reminded that the girls need money, that they don’t just subsist on penis and cupcakes, that they need shit like food, shelter and salaries. So I grunted noncommittally.

  “You’re here as a server right?” I ground out. “They kept you on as a server?” Of course Rebecca was here as a maid, I’d specifically told Housekeeping to hire her.

  The brunette nodded.

  “Yeah, but they didn’t set out the terms. I was just wondering if maybe you knew? Like ten dollars an hour, or fifteen?”

  I went completely still. Clearly, the girl had no idea how the Billionaires Club operates, how money flows through the veins of this place like water. But I didn’t want to give it all away just yet.

  “Well, that’s a little on the low side,” I rumbled, a big hand smoothing circles on her back, caressing the skin, keeping her warm. “I’m sure we can do better than that.”

  Rebecca bit her lip, shooting me a quick glance over her shoulder, hesitating for a moment.

  “It’s just that I need to know,” she said quietly. “My family at home needs me to work, so I was hoping to send something back to them soon. But I don’t know how much I’ve made yet.”

  That made me frown. This girl had family? She wasn’t just a single, innocent female orbiting the Earth, with no cares in the world, craving nothing but dick? What the hell, real life sucked.

  So I massaged her shoulders then, buying time by pulling my cock from her pussy, watching as the purple pole slowly exited her flesh, shiny and covered with cream.

  “Unnnh,” Rebecca moaned, turning her face into the pillow. “Ohhh, that feels good.”

  And once I was out, I pulled her to me again, cradling that curvy body close.

  “Naw, I think we can do better than ten or fifteen an hour,” I rumbled into her ear, weighing her breasts with my hands. Shit, she was so luscious, these Double Ds so pendulous and full, overflowing my palms, and I tweaked a nipple for good measure, making her squeal. “I think we can do better than that. I’ve been thinking to keep you on as my personal maid, and that pays a lot more than fifteen per hour.”

  The brunette sighed, eyes closed. But then those lids lifted again, and her brown gaze was filled with worry. I hated seeing it, I hated seeing those chocolate depths wide, a little scared, a little on edge. But she’s a brave girl, and steadying her chin, she turned to look at me.

  “Kane, when they hired me for the auction, they told me that I’d make ten thousand minimum, just for my time, just for making the trip to Nevada even if I wasn’t sold. So I was wondering, do you think you could help me? Do you think you could pay me ten thousand? I’d work as long as you want, I could keep your quarters clean,” she rushed, gesturing with a small hand to my suite. “I could cook your food in the kitchens, I could iron your clothes, do whatever you like.”

  And I threw my head back and laughed then. Because we had people to do all that shit, I didn’t need a housekeeper.

  “Baby, I appreciate it,” I said, stroking her cheek. “But it’s not necessary because we’ve got staff. We’ve got staff to take care of all that, although that’s a nice gesture coming from you.”

  Becky blushed then.

  “Oh I just meant,” she said quickly. “That I can take care of you, Kane, I know how to do all that stuff, I’m good with an iron, I’m good with a frying pan.”

  My heart expanded then because the thought of the two of us, living in a cozy home, my woman looking out for me, making sure all of my needs were met, made me go wild with hunger. Most of the women I date are the opposite. They expect butlers, maids, and chefs, not to mention hairstylists, masseurs, and the dozens of people involved in a woman’s upkeep. Those ladies figure that being with Kane Caldwell is a golden ticket, that they’ll never break a nail anymore, no worries, there’s a manicurist on staff.

  So to hear that my baby girl wanted to take care of me in the most innocent way warmed me to the heart. Becky was about the basics, and she wanted to show me that she meant it by being the little woman tending the hearth. And I loved it, absolutely fucking loved it, the sweetness of her gesture, the genuineness of her emotions. But there was no need, I’ve got loads of money, and one thing money does is buy you conveniences. So I chuckled deep in my chest.

  “Naw honey, that’s okay,” I growled. “There’s just one need I have and it’s right here,” I said, drawing a big finger down her poochy stomach before trailing over the soft folds of her twat. “And you’ve been doing a great job, you’ve been providing for Daddy like a good girl.”

  She twisted a bit, moaning, spreading her legs unconsciously.

  “I know,” she breathed. “I know, Kane. But I just want to make sure that I do everything right because I need money, Kane. I really need it. My family needs it. My little brother,” and here she choked a little, “isn’t getting enough to eat and I’m afraid that he doesn’t have the energy to grow and learn, that he’s falling behind in in school because he’s hungry.”

  I was still for a moment. Usually I hate sob stories, I’ve heard them all: My parents died, I grew up in a hovel with ten other kids and no running water, I chopped wood for pocket change, hustling on the streets. But for some reason, Becky’s story grabbed my heart, made me go still for a moment.

  “Where are you parents?” I growled, eyes bl
azing. “Why are you looking out for your younger sibling?”

  Becky took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking me in the eye.

  “My dad, I have no idea. He’s never been part of the picture, I don’t think I’ve ever met him, not as long as I remember. And my mom, Ellen, well,” she took another deep breath before lifting her chin. “My mom was okay for a while, but then she got injured on the job and went off the rails. We get her disability checks, that’s how we survive.”

  I nodded. Job-related injuries are the worst, I see them as the head of an international conglomerate, they’re a real liability. But still, why was an eighteen year-old girl in charge of her brother?

  “So?” I asked. “It should be your mom supporting the family, somehow, some way. You’re just a child yourself, you can’t be shouldering these burdens.”

  And Becky looked back at me steadily, incredible bravery and courage in her eyes before answering.

  “I think my mom is an addict,” she said quietly. “I think she’s addicted to something, I’m not sure what, and I think she’s got a couple boyfriends to make money on the side. It’s why I never ask her to spend significant time with Mattie. Because she’s a bad influence, it’s better if Mattie doesn’t know his mom too well.”

  And my head roiled, mouth dropping open. Shit, was I hearing this right? Was “boyfriends” a euphemism for johns, paying customers? So in her own way, Becky was telling me that her mom was a hooker of sorts? Holy shit, holy shit, this went beyond bad, this was fucking awful. And my mind whirled, determined to make her life better.

  “How long has this been going on?” I growled, giving away nothing. “How long has your mom been on the streets?”

  Becky swallowed heavily.

  “For as long as I can remember,” she said in a whisper. “At least since Mattie was in diapers and he’s eight now.”

  My eyes closed for a moment, before opening once more, staring at the girl hard.

  “So you’ve been taking care of your younger brother and this woman, Nana, for almost a decade?” I ground out, voice rough. My chest felt tight, like I was having pains, and it was a new experience. I’ve faced down tough boardroom negotiations, I’ve made grown men cry without feeling a thing, and yet this one little girl, this one sweet female was making my heart ache, her vulnerability so palpable that something in my chest wrenched.

  The brunette nodded slowly.

  “Ever since I’ve been able to work, I’ve tried to help my family. Even just a little babysitting, a few shifts at the bodega, I did it. I wasn’t legal, you have to be twenty-one to sell alcohol. But I did it and the owner paid me under the table,” she shrugged, trying to smile a little. “Anything for my family.”

  And with that, I growled, pulling the girl into my arms, blue eyes blazing. Because this woman was flat-out amazing. She’d been a pillar of strength to the people who meant the most to her for years now, these narrow shoulders had carried a burden that was meant for a much older woman, an adult. And yet, Becky was still sweet and innocent, trusting the world, and not a hardened, cynical criminal. It was incredible, the pure goodness that shone from her, the girl’s determination to do right, to honor her loved ones and provide for them as best she could.

  So I pulled her into my arms again, stroking those soft brown curls.

  “Honey, as my personal assistant, you’re gonna be paid really well,” I ground out, smoothing a big hand down her back. “How does fifty thousand sound?”

  Her breath hitched, eyes going wide as she looked up at me.

  “That would be wonderful,” she said, voice wavering. “I was just wondering if I could get some breaks to go back and see my family? It takes a while to earn fifty thousand, and I’m grateful for the opportunity, I am,” she hurried. “I’m happy to stay at the Billionaires Club for as long as it takes me to earn my keep. But if I could get a day off occasionally, I’d really appreciate it, to see my brother and grandma.”

  I just held her to me tight again, heart overflowing.

  “Of course you can get a day off honey, but you’ll find that the fifty thousand comes quick. You’re making twenty-five thousand each week.”

  At that, her mouth dropped open, eyes going wide.

  “Twenty-five thousand a week?” she parroted softly. “That means that I’m only here for two weeks.”

  I nodded with a wry grin.

  “Less than that now. You’ve been in my suite for, oh about four days, would you say? So that leaves ten days in Nevada, and then you’ll be free to see your family.”

  Becky threw her arms around me then.

  “Thank you Kane,” she whispered against my ear, her breath so soft, so giving. “You can’t imagine what this means to me, it makes all the difference.”

  But the thing is, I could. By making Becky happy, I was making myself happy, and it’s pretty different from how I usually operate. Generally I’m a selfish motherfucker, I buy shit to make myself feel good, spending lavishly on vacations, dirtbiking, skiing, renting out entire Caribbean islands if it comes to that.

  But with Becky, everything’s been upended. Instead of spending on myself, I was spending on her, and only too happy to do it. Fifty thousand dollars for two weeks of work was over the top by any standard, but the thing is that I didn’t care. With Rebecca, I’d give as much as she wanted, for as long as she wanted, and it felt good. It felt incredibly rewarding and worthwhile, like this was the first time my money actually made a difference.

  So I merely pressed another kiss to her forehead, running fingers through those brown curls.

  “Honey, just tell me how much you need, and I’ll make sure you get it,” I ground out.

  But my girl is one with good boundaries, she’s not a greedy ho, not like so many of the women I know.

  “Thank you Kane, but this is more than enough,” she breathed, that curvy form pressed close to me. “You’ve made a world of a difference, you can’t even imagine.”

  But the thing is I could, I could picture Rebecca living in a one-bedroom in some shitty neighborhood with her grandma and brother, the walls peeling with paint, the plumbing ancient and creaky, sleeping on a pull-out bed. And the visual pained me, chest constricting again.

  “Just tell me,” I ground out, voice low and filled with emotion. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

  This time, she didn’t reply. The brunette’s head merely rested against my shoulder, moving up and down as I breathed, and nothing had ever felt so right. We weren’t doing anything, not really, but the world was coming together, each piece fitting together perfectly, the angels singing. Angels singing? I was fucking losing my mind, Kane Caldwell was going insane, screws in my head going loose. But what I hadn’t counted on was loving it, loving the fall. I was completely unrecognizable, even to myself … and it felt fucking amazing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rebecca

  I can’t say that Kane’s changed, or that he’s a different man. After all, I only just met him a week ago. But even within these seven days, he’s become someone different. At first, he was just so horny, nothing mattered except the physical.

  Bend down.

  Turn around.

  Pull yourself open.

  That was the extent of his words to me, and of course, I obeyed. I understand what my role is at the Billionaires Club, and it’s to keep silent. I’m not an activist, I’m here to make money the best way I know how, and that meant doing as Kane ordered.

  But recently, something’s changed. It seems incredible given that most of our conversation in the beginning consisted of squeals and moans, both of us naked and going at it like horny animals, unable to get enough. But sometime during the loving, as we relaxed, ate meals, and showered together, our interactions took on another hue. We talked a little, me revealing my desperate financial situation, and Kane was curiously empathetic, which surprised me. I hadn’t thought a hardened businessman would feel for someone in my situation, that I’d be anything more than a
warm body to him.

  So the revelation that Kane cared, that he was a real human with emotions, astonished me. We were sitting in the sauna together late one night, both of us wrapped in towels, sated and relaxed when he stunned me once again.

  “Um,” I stretched, putting my feet playfully in his lap. “Umm, that feels good.”

  The big man merely grunted, massaging my soles.

  “Baby you’ve got pretty feet,” he growled. “Even your toes are gorgeous,” he said, dropping a kiss on my sole.

  I squealed, pulling my foot away.

  “No, don’t, don’t!” I panted laughingly. “That’s gross! Don’t kiss my feet.”

  But Kane merely grabbed my ankles and planted a smooch on my calf this time.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled threateningly. “Every bit of you is beautiful Rebecca, you know Daddy loves it all.”

  And I flushed because all my inhibitions have gone out the window with the big man. I let him touch me everywhere, kiss me everywhere, lick me everywhere, and places that I’d thought were taboo were now areas of fun, delicious and sensitized, I could hardly wait for his caresses sometimes.

  But I was just about to protest again when suddenly the door swung open and a man came in with a woman on each arm, each female clad in nothing but a purple thong. Oh god, that thong. I had a dozen of them as well, they were the “uniform” for Club girls, we wore nothing but a thong and heels most times. But given that I’d been locked in Kane’s room for the past week, my underthings had barely seen any use. I’d been bare as a baby, doing everything in the nude in front of my man, letting it all hang out.

  So I gasped, pulling the towel higher over my breasts, making sure everything was covered discreetly.

  But the other man didn’t even notice, he was so into the girls on his arm, the giggling, swaying females. Although he did throw a respectful look at my companion, nodding slightly at the alpha male.