Lord.
Definitelya call girl.
If I were accidentally accosting a maid, she wouldn’t be aroused, right?
“You can put up a fight, but you want it,” I rasp in her ear, pushing two fingers past her slick entrance and?—
She jerks between me and the door, slapping at my hand.
Holy shit. She’s tight.
Too tight.
Virginallytight.
“Please,” she whispers, trembling.
A chill passes over me. No. No way.
“You’re really…a maid?” Denial streaks through my nervous system when she nods. “Why are you wet?” Wishing I hadn’t asked that second question out loud, I try to wave it out of the air. “Forget I asked that.”
“What did you think I was?”
I close my eyes. “A call girl.”
She spins around, visibly embarrassed, and hastily fixes her clothing while I stand there, dumbfounded and still achingly erect. Knowing she’s a maid hasn’t dimmed my need one iota,but shit, I have made a huge error. I’ve inadvertently just traumatized this girl.
I rake both hands through my hair. “Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t tell anyone? I’m the one who fucked up.”
“But I’m the one who’ll get fired.”
That sinks in hard. She’s right. I do live in a world where I could assault a maid and the accusation would roll right off me like water off a duck’s back. That’s what money can do.
But I don’t allow money to dictate who I am. Not like my friends and family.
There’s no way to make this girl understand that, though. Not after what I’ve done.
“Are you going to?” she whispers, appearing stricken. “Tell anyone? Because my aunt really needs this job and if she lost it while I was filling in…I-I can’t get her fired after everything she’s done for me.Please, sir.”
I’m going to be sick.
She really thinks I’m a monster.
Maybe I am. Didn’t I just instruct her to run away from me? Fight me off?
Swallowing my shame, I hold up my hands and try to appear as non-threatening as possible. “This never happened, okay? I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, clasping her hands beneath her chin.
“But for the record,youdid nothing wrong.Idid.”
She blinks a few times, studying me. As if trying to decide if I’m good or evil.
“What is your name?” I ask, because I need to know. I need…her, frankly.
