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Best Wishes,
Meryl.
P.S. Sorry Nate called so late. And thank you for giving him your time.
I reply with a simple welcome aboard again.
***
Tuesday
I come back early because my schedule yesterday was brutal and I was back in the office early this morning, so I’ve had enough for the day.
I know, coming in that I’ll probably run into her, but I’ve already decided to play it cool, say hello, and go straight to the bedroom to catch a few hours’ sleep. Then I’ll go to the gym and kill time, not coming back until she’s in bed. Yeah, my life has devolved to this – hiding from the girl I was forced to hire to clean the apartment and cook for me.
When I walk in, she’s mopping the kitchen floor.
Mopping the fucking floor.
Like in her Austin Smut story.
She’s wearing lose but short black jersey gym shorts and a white tank top. She’s got dance music playing, her hair up in a bun. She freezes, mop in her hand.
I stare at her. Instead of hanging my stuff on the coat rack like I usually do, I drop it on the floor and I’m immediately cutting up the space between us until I’ve got her face in my hands and then my tongue in her mouth. She drops the mop.
“Pick it up,” I order, gruffly.
This is a bad idea. A bad, bad fucking idea.
She stares wide-eyed at me. Her nipples are erect, poking through her white tank top. Her eyes are on me. Huge.
“I said pick it up,” I repeat.
Is she about to tell me to fuck off? She should.
She bends over to fetch it and I grab her hips with both hands and pull her ass to my crotch. She squeaks in surprise.
“Mop the floor, Jada,” I demand.
She’s frozen for a minute and it dawns that no, she’s not down to play any games with me. Of course she’s not. I’m an asshole.
I’m about to let go and apologize when the mop starts to move. She’s doing what she’s told.
My head rolls back as euphoria sweeps through me.
She’s not pushing me away. I grind against her ass while she does it.
She lifts the mop and pushes the lever to release water into the mop bucket, then dips it and presses the release again before she starts on the next row of tiles.
She’s trembling. And I fuckin’ like it.
I slip my hand up the side of her pantleg and push my finger under the elastic to get to her silky, hot pussy. I glide my finger back and forth a few times.
But the mop has stilled.
“Keep going,” I order, “Otherwise I’ll stop.”
She pushes it again and I reward her by cupping her left breast.
She leans back into me and squeezes her ass cheeks around my erection.
My eyes drift shut and then driven by need, I push her front up against the fridge and yank those shorts down past her hips and let them drop to her ankles. The mop crashes to the floor and stuff inside the fridge rattles.
“Stay there,” I demand. “If you move an inch, I’ll make you edge for a fucking hour.”
She shivers.
I smile as I rush to her room. There’s no box of condoms on her nightstand. I go to the bathroom. Not in the cabinet. I’m back in her room, opening the drawer to the bedside table and there they are, directly beside a pink rabbit vibrator.
Well, well, well.
I grab a condom and the vibrator and practically fly back to the kitchen where she still stands, looking so perfect, facing the fridge, her shorts around her ankles, her little black underwear askew so that one apple-bottom ass cheek is exposed. Her palms are against the fridge and the mop is still on the floor beside her.
I undo my suit pants, then roll up my sleeves, taking my time doing it, watching her, knowing she wants to squirm, turn around, something.
But she doesn’t.
She’s a perfectly good girl, standing there, waiting.
And she’s got no idea there’s a vibrator on the counter beside me.
I roll the condom on and then I’ve got her panties in my grip.
“Can I take these off?” I ask.
“Now you’re asking?” she retorts breathlessly.
Ooh. She’s feeling a little sassy.
I yank them down roughly and she jolts in surprise.
“Sassy sweetheart,” I chide and then I playfully nip her throat with my teeth.
She squeaks and then she tries to turn.
“Nope. You dropped the mop; don’t you know how to behave?”
“I do,” she whispers, stilling. “I can behave very well.”
Fuck yeah.
“Sir,” she adds after a swallow.
“Show me,” I whisper. “Stand there like a good girl and let me do what I wanna do to you.”
“Okay.”
“You understand this is all I’m capable of right now, Jada?” I ask.
She nods, saying nothing.
“I need to know that you do,” I say softly.
“I do,” she replies, her voice loud, clear, letting me know she gets it.
