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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.
