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Her mouth falls open, her eyes going to the entrance, the information not prompting her to get her sweet arse into gear. I hear the door close and look over my shoulder, silently accepting there is no way out of this. A tea towel?
Ava makes a run for it, her speed quite something, her boobs bouncing, her tight arse not. The look of pure horror on her face, the situation, brings on laughter.
“Shit,” she yells, as I finally convince my legs to work and go after her, putting a protective palm over my dick as I run, stopping it from bouncing around and giving me a belly ache.
“Mouth,” I say, laughing when I hear Cathy’s unmistakable shocked gasp, reaching forward and swatting Ava’s backside halfway up the stairs.
“Goodness gracious,” Cathy cries. I laugh harder. I’ll go to hell.
I look back when I reach the top of the stairs, as Ava runs at full speed into the bedroom. Cathy’s at the door, a hand over her mouth, her carpet bag at her feet. I lift my spare hand and wave, smiling like a fool, and get my feet moving again, noticing a spot of blood on the carpet as I enter the bedroom, just as the covers waft into the air and settle on Ava’s hiding body. And I realize. She must have stood on some glass.Shit.
I go over, riffling through the sheets to find her. “Where are you?” I ask, finally locating her under a pillow. So adorable. “You’ve upset the concierge, and now you’vereallyupset my housekeeper.” I roll her to her back and put my face straight between her boobs.
“Don’t,” she groans, mortified, making me laugh.
“Let me see your foot.”
“It hurts.” She pouts, that’s adorable too, as I push myself up and take her leg by the ankle, scanning the sole of her foot. I see a small bead of blood on her heel and get closer, tracing the tip of my finger there.
“Baby, you’ve got a piece of glass stuck,” I say quietly, cursing myself and my clumsiness, apologizing with a kiss before getting up to go and find something that’ll get it out. “Tweezers?”
“Makeup bag,” she grumbles, looking plain mortified.
I rummage through her things in the bathroom, until I put my hands on a silver pair of tweezers, returning to the bed. I find her foot and settle on my knees, cleaning up the fresh drop of blood with my tongue, looking up her body when I feel her legs stiffen.
I smile to myself. “Hold still.” I’m very aware that me removing this piece of glass isn’t the only thing that has her tense. And on that thought, I lick the sole of her foot, watching her stomach harden, all of her abdominal muscles engaging. It’s quite gratifying, but now isn’t the time, especially with glass in her foot and a traumatized housekeeper on the premises. So I realign my wayward attention and remove the offending piece of glass, putting my lips around the area and sucking. I feel Ava look down at me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting it out.” I run my tongue across the area, feeling the shard now protruding from her skin, so I swap my mouth for the tweezers and get up close, pinching at the surface. Two tries and I have it. “There.” A quick kiss and I move away, catching a grin on her face. “What are you grinning at?” I ask.
She waves a finger at my face. “Your frown line.”
“I don’t have a frown line.” Do I have a frown line?
She bites her bottom lip. “You do.”
Well, that’s a kick to my delicate ego. I discard the tweezers and get to my hands and knees, crawling to her and trapping her beneath me. A frown line? “Miss O’Shea, are you saying I have wrinkles?” Do I need to get Sarah’s doctor’s number?
“No. It only pops up when you’re concentrating,” she says, her smile not letting up. “Or if you’re concerned.”
Fuck me, it must be a pretty deep line if that’s the case. “It does?”
“It does.”
“Oh.” I don’t tell it to, but my forehead bunches. “Is it there now?”
She giggles, which isn’t an answer, but she’s happy, and if Ava’s happy, I’m happy. I look down at her boobs again and sink my teeth into the flesh, sucking, and she lashes out on a yell.
“Get ready,” I order, kissing her forcefully, feeling her open up, inviting me to take more. But...urghhhh. “I’ll go see if Cathy’s run out screaming.”
Ava’s amusement vanishes, along with her tempting tactics. “Okay,” she murmurs, reality finding her, a reality where she’s got to face the source of her embarrassment. Maybe apologize too for being a piece of work last night.
“I’ll see you downstairs.” One more kiss. “Don’t be long.” I get up, grab some lounge pants and hop into them, pulling them up my legs as I leave the bedroom. I stop at the top of the stairs and smile when I hear the kitchen tap turn on and off. “Here we go,” I say to myself, my bare feet quiet on the steps as I take them. I reach the entrance of the kitchen and peek round. She’s cleaning up the glass with a dustpan and brush. “Morning,” I say tentatively.
“Boy,” she shrieks, making me flinch, before she proceeds to dash around the kitchen at a speed that defies her age. She empties the dustpan in the bin, stows it away, grabs her Flash spray, shoots it at the floor, then steps on the pedal of the mop bucket and spins the mop to rid it of excess water before slapping it on the floor and mopping ferociously.
I smile as I wander over to the stool.
