The Billionaire's Maid
By Moira McGuinness
Copyright 2013 Moira McGuinness
All Rights Reserved
The Billionaire's Maid
Book Design by Moira McGuinness
I watched as he unbuttoned her shirt, holding her close to him. He grazed at her flesh, licking and biting her stomach. Taking off her bra she pushed him into her breasts, his tongue flicking at her nipples, taking one fully into his mouth. Throwing her head back she clutched him closer to him, running her fingernails through his hair.
Standing, he held the back of her head as she unbuttoned his pants. Taking out his cock she fed it into her willing mouth. While he held onto her, pushing her face into his groin she teased at his balls, and ran her hand over his stomach, digging her deep red fingernails into his skin. His cock was huge, a thick proud specimen that she fought with, allowing it to sway between hurried sucks. Wildly it swung, hitting the side of her cheeks.
Standing her up he led her over to the bed where he bent her over. Now looking directly at me she waiting for him to enter, her ass high in the air. Standing behind her he held his dick in one hand while parting her lips with the other, before pushing his cock deep into her. Despite the thick glass that separated us I could hear her moans and she writhed on the bed, bucking as he roughly fucked her.
Standing in the garden my fingers were now furiously rubbing my clit, my other hand still wrapped around the dog’s lead. While sure that I could not be seen I was both terrified of being caught, and engrossed in the show. Hiding in the orchard I was probably 50 feet from the house, 100 feet from the road. Leaning against a tree, holding onto a dog, watching my new employers as they fucked. My hand switching from my bosom to my pussy, I gripped the trunk behind me as I watched and fingered myself, seeing that he was now holding her hair, slapping her ass, and pushing himself into her. As I felt myself reaching orgasm he pulled out, turning her around to face his cock. Her mouth wide open he shot his cum over her face and her tits, shuddering as he released his massive load.
I pulled my hand out from my dress and hurried to the side of the house, aware that they may want a late night snack before bed. Sex has a way of increasing appetite, those burned calories need to be replaced. Putting the dog in her crate for the night I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, sitting down at the table to await any instructions. When I heard footsteps descending the stairs I grabbed a magazine - hoping to look occupied, as though I’d been here the whole time. Not standing outside in the garden like a teenage boy, peeking in through the windows, watching a young married couple fuck. When Mr. Anderson walked in, dressed in a white t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, he seemed surprised to see me.
“Amber!”, he said in surprise. “You’re still up? I thought you’d gone to bed ages ago!”.
“I wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed”, I said meekly; acutely aware that by now, he probably had. “Plus the dog was whining to be let out. Would you like me to make you any food?”.
“No no!”, he said. “You go on to bed. We’ll talk in the morning about when your hours should be. There’s no need for you to be waiting on us at this hour”.
We were still learning the ropes. This was the first time I’d been employed as a maid, and the first time that Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had taken one.
I sometimes felt that he was a little uncomfortable with their wealth. Mr. Anderson had been born into a wealthy family, but most of the money that he now had was held in trust until he was 30. He had joined the family business - an investment firm - when out of college, and had spent the following 8 years working in all departments to get an understanding of exactly how the company was run. He had been paid a decent salary, enough to buy a house and car, and had learned how to manage his employees. Now 34 he and his new wife had bought a sprawling mansion in the town that I had grown up in, and had decided to employ a maid to help them around the house.
20 years old, I had wanted to leave the family home but had nowhere to go. Answering an ad online for a live in helper, I had jumped on the chance to both work and leave home.
I hadn't had the happiest of childhoods. My family were supportive enough, but I wasn't really too popular at school and didn't have many friends. I'd never had a boyfriend, pretty much never been kissed, and certainly never had sex. Watching my bosses fuck was as much education as erotic. I longed to be in her place, to feel what she felt, to do what she did. I had a small vibrator but to date, it was my only sexual partner.
I had moved in a week ago. Taking a room in the rafters of the house I had a twin bed, a dressing table, a wardrobe and a small chest of drawers. A small bathroom was attached to my room, with a clawfoot tub and tiny medicine cabinet. I didn’t care what the place looked like, that the wallpaper was peeling in the corners of the room, or that there was no television or radio, this was my little corner, a place to call home.
The next morning typified the different relationships that I had with Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. Mr. Anderson left for work early, usually out of the door at 6am. He departed before I woke and he has told me that he doesn’t want me to do anything for him before he leaves. He makes his own coffee, he feeds and takes the dog out, and tries to be as quiet as possible so as to not disturb anyone else.
Mrs. Anderson, on the other hand, treated me quite differently. She rose at 10am, summoning me by ringing a bell that she kept hidden from her husband in her bedside cabinet. When I reached her room she lay in bed and directed me to fetch her clothing from her closet in her dressing room, or ‘boudoir’ as she called it. When I had fetched her outfit she required me to help her dress, taking care to cover her breasts from my sight. Not that it mattered, of course. I had seen her fully naked the night before, I’d seen her sliding the cock of her husband in between her cleavage. She could play the part of demure lady all that she wanted, I’d seen her at her dirtiest.
That night, after I had served dinner I stood alone, washing the dishes in the kitchen. Listening to some light music I stood for a while, staring out of the window. I didn’t even hear footsteps or the door opening. Turning around with a dinner plate in my hand I jumped when I saw Mr. Anderson, standing just a couple of feet away from me. The plate slipped out of my hand, smashing into a hundred pieces.
“Oh no!”, I screamed. “I am so sorry!”.
“Please!” he said, bending to pick up the shards. “It was my fault. I didn’t mean to scare you like that”.
I couldn’t bear to think what Mrs. Anderson’s reaction would have been, if she had been here.
After Mr. Anderson picked up the larger pieces of the place I vacuumed the floor. Making sure that all of the fragments were cleaned, we sat at the small table and shared a pot of french press coffee.
“I’d like to thank you”,he said. Dreaded words. I’d heard them only once before, immediately before being fired. “I sometimes don’t know what I’d do without you”.
“Oh, it’s really nothing”, I said blushing slightly. Ever since I’d met Mr. Anderson I’d had a little bit of a crush on him, even before seeing him naked. He wasn’t the tallest man but he was well built and carried himself confidently. He always dressed impeccably, wearing closely tailored suits to work and designer jeans with t-shirts around the house. He had a weight room in the basement, part of his ‘man cave’, and would frequently come upstairs with his shirt off, his smooth chest glistening with sweat.
He leaned in towards me, keeping his voice low so that his wife wouldn’t hear us from the next room.
“Between you and me”, he said in a hushed tone. “I sometimes think that you’re the only sane person
in this house”.
I sometimes thought he was right. Mrs. Anderson seemed to be more in love with her husbands money than she was with the person. I had no doubt that she wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t in a house like this, or if she didn’t have access to the credit limits on their shared credit cards. Whenever he walked shirtless through the house on his way to the shower it was only me who looked up at him. While I had witnessed their lovemaking the night before I wondered if she only opened her legs to keep his wallet open too.
Going upstairs to bed after walking the dog I took a bath in the clawfoot tub. Allowing my hands to wander I thought back to my moment with Mr. Anderson, when he had leaned in close to me to whisper his thoughts in my ear. Leaning my head back I ran my fingers across the outline of my breasts, imagining Mr. Anderson's lips upon them. I turned my head to one side to bear my neck, almost feeling his tongue caressing me, nibbling at my earlobe, running his fingers through my hair.
Naked and wet I jumped from the bath and into my room. Lying on the bed I reached over to my nightstand, opening its drawer I located my trusted vibrator. Slender and smooth it was nowhere near the size of the cock that I had seen the night before, but it was all that I had - all that I ever had - and it would have to do. Engaging it I first put it into my mouth, allowing the buzzing to tickle my tongue, fantasizing that it was Mr. Anderson’s dick that I was tasting. Rolling my nipples with my free hand I felt my pussy yearning to be touched, aching for something to be inside. First warming up my clit with my hand I rubbed myself vigorously, my eyes closed as I moaned softly. My nipples tender, every tough brought me closer to orgasm.
Hurriedly I could take no more. I brought the vibrator down to my pussy, massaging my clit with the purring toy until my folds beckoned me to enter. Sliding my plaything deep inside I pictured Mr. Anderson standing over me, thrusting his dick inside, sending me to the brink of my pleasure.
Fucking myself strongly, my eyes still closed and with my right hand grasping at my tits I rode myself, rocking against my toy. Holding it inside my pussy and against my clit I buckled under the strain, sending myself to a strong orgasm.
Lying on my bed, still with my eyes closed, I heard a quiet footstep. Sitting up quickly I looked towards my door, to see it closing. Someone had been watching me. The watcher had become the watched!
The next morning I watched from my window as Mr. Anderson went to his car. I wasn’t positive who was watching me finger myself the night before, but it had to be one of he or his wife. I really hoped it had been him, my hands against the window almost called for him to look up and wave at me. Turning before he got to his car he seemed to look up in my direction, before turning back to head off to work.
Mrs. Anderson gave no clues. She was her usual belligerent self and made me fetch three different outfits to wear, before jumping into her convertible and heading to the mall. She worked so hard there, spending almost a full day spending the money that her husband had made. Such a hard life when you’re the wife of a billionaire.
When I served dinner I retired to the kitchen to eat the food that I had prepared for myself. Mr. Anderson had initially said when I was hired that I should dine with them, but Mrs. Anderson had apparently thought that to be unworkable. ‘What if someone comes over’, she had said. ‘We need to keep up appearances’.
When the happy couple had completed their meals I collected their plates, and took them into the kitchen. Positioned at the sink I heard a cough, Mr. Anderson standing in the doorway.
“I thought it might be wise to announce my arrival”, he said with a smile. “That china isn’t cheap”.
Ah yes, I thought to myself. I have a habit of being surprised.
“That’s probably a good idea”, I said with a smile. “Coffee?”.
Together we sat again at the table, chatting about absolutely nothing of importance. World news. My family. His car. I hung onto his every word and hoped that he wouldn’t notice my reddening chest.
“I really like chatting with you”, he said as he took his coffee cup to the sink. “You get me”.
“Likewise”, I said, standing to walk in his direction. In my mind I threw my cup to the floor, leapt into his strong arms and allowed him to passionately kiss me. In actuality only the first part was true, as fumbling I dropped my mug. Mr. Anderson lunged forward, cat like reflexes and plucked it out of the air when it was merely an inch from impact. Standing, his face close to mine I could feel his breath on my cheek as he exhaled.
Stuck in this moment for what felt like hours we looked into each others eyes. The tension in the room so thick it could be cut, wrapped and served for lunch I felt an irresistible urge to move in for the kill, to have the kiss that the occasion deserved. Just as we started to move towards each other, our eyes both closing, his wife’s voice called from the dining room.
I figured that it was probably for the best. What if we had kissed? What if things had gone further? What if he had taken me on the kitchen table? He was hardly about to leave his attractive trophy wife for a frumpy young virgin maid.
That night I bathed in silence and without deviating from the task. Cleanliness only. I considered my options and wondered if the store in town might be hiring. Perhaps it would be better to leave some space between myself and this couple.
In the morning I again stood at the window and watched as Mr. Anderson walked to his car. Again I placed my palm to the glass, hoping against my better judgment that he might turn around. I knew I couldn’t have him, I knew I shouldn’t have him; but that couldn’t ever stop me from wanting him.
Mrs. Anderson clearly meant business today as well. She had already selected her outfit when I went to bring her tea and the mail. She was meeting with her irritating friends at the country club and playing golf, and would be absent for the day.
I watched from the garden as she left and wandered around the grounds of the house for a few minutes. Turning back to walk to the house I heard another car drive up the driveway. ‘Dumb bitch forgot her purse’ I thought to myself, turning to greet her arrival.
To my surprise, though not my dismay, it was not Mrs. Anderson who approached. Her husband pulled in front of the garages. Getting out of his car he spotted me among the lilacs and sprinted towards me.
“Can I help you with anything?”, I called as he approached.
“You might say that”, he said.
Taking me by the hand he lead me around the side of the house to the kitchen door. Opening it he waved me in, then directed me to the very spot that I had been standing on the previous night at the moment that the cup had been dropped. Standing close to me, as close as he had 12 hours earlier, he held my shoulders in his hands. Again I could feel his breath on my cheek, again the chemistry that had flooded this room the previous evening returned.
“I need to know”, he said huskily. “I need to know what happens next”.
My brain attempted to send warning signals that my body ignored. My heart pounding, I knew that I could be within minutes of knowing what it would be like to be a lover. Leaning towards him we both closed our eyes once more. Holding ourselves a fraction of an inch away from each other I felt his warm breath on my lips. Holding back no more, I pressed my open mouth against his, sending my tongue to dance with his. My hand on the back of his head I ran my fingers through his hair, twirling his short locks, digging my fingernails into his scalp.
His hands fast, he reached for my blouse. Unbuttoning rapidly he pushed the fabric to my shoulders, his fingers darting towards my tits. Lowering the lace over my breasts he grabbed my nipples in his hands, before breaking our embrace to take one into his mouth. He sucked strongly, sending pleasure throughout my body. My nipples usually sensitive but never before this erect played with his tongue and he nibbled and teased.
Standing he faced me. Dropping to my knees I dove into his crotch, unzipping him quickly. His already erect cock sprang towards me, begging for my mouth. My full lips kissed his head, my tongue sliding down his shaft a
s I warmed him up for my throat. Kissing the underside of his cock he panted, groaning, pleading for me to take him. Grabbing his meat in my hand I held it up while I licked his every inch, before taking him fully into my mouth. I sucked generously, holding nothing back as his hands ran down my back towards my drenched pussy.
Lifting me up he pushed me back onto the kitchen table, opening my legs. He slid my panties down to my ankles, allowing my freshly shaved pussy to see him. It yearned for his cock, for his tongue, for his fingers. Kissing my calves and then my thighs he made his way towards his destination, his tongue tracing the outline of my pussy. A small but steady stream of my juice escaping from my folds he feasted upon me, swallowing my scent.
The Billionaire's Maid (Deflowered by the Boss) Page 1
