“Relax, Belle,” I told myself as I leaned back against the table and looked down at my pussy, still dripping with his spit and my arousal.
I was still in a daze from what he’d done to me. His fir
m voice was still running around in my head:
This isn’t a request. It’s mandatory.
Who has the balls to say something like that anyway? Alden McLaren, I guess. The man who’s used to getting what he wants, and somehow he’d managed to get me without me even realizing what he was doing.
I thought about calling Sara to tell her what had happened, but it felt somehow wrong. Alden had taken me into his home and we’d shared something together (even if we hadn’t quite finished yet), and it didn’t feel right to immediately go and blab about it to my friend.
Not yet. There would be plenty of time for bragging later.
Bragging!? I thought. Did I just think that?!
My pussy was aching and I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my entire life, but I felt like a leaf on the wind, blowing this way and that, never knowing which way I was really going or how I was going to get there.
I’d come here looking for a job, but what I’d found was a dream—a dream man who only had eyes for me. I’d come to be a professional, but I’d ended up in a French maid’s outfit while the most gorgeous man in the world ran his tongue around my clit and groaned like he was in heaven.
I didn’t really know what was going on or how in the hell I’d fallen so hard for Alden, but what I did know was that I wanted him back here, and I wanted it now.
With a sigh, I stepped out of the closet into the incredible hall and pretended like I knew what the paintings hanging on his wall were. One of them looked a lot like a Picasso, but it couldn’t be…could it?
I felt sexy in the heels and maid outfit, and seeing as how I had the whole house to myself, thought I’d take a little tour of my own while I waited for the master of the house to return.
I opened a few doors to find guest rooms that looked like they belonged in a five-star hotel or a British estate, two gorgeous bathrooms of white marble, and an upstairs lounge at the top of the stairs complete with a bar, two pool tables, a poker table and a cluster of leather couches.
I could only imagine the high society who he’d entertained there.
I saw a dark wooden door at the end of the hall and opened it to find myself in Alden’s bedroom. Actually it was a small entrance area with hangers and shelves that led into the much larger, gorgeous bedroom.
The first thing that hit me was the smell—his smell, and my desire for him immediately swelled. I slid my fingers into my G-string and began to play with myself as I stepped inside.
I was so wet, and as I found myself alone in his room, the room of one of New York City’s titans, I was so completely turned on that I barely knew what to do with myself.
His bed wasn’t made. It looked like he’d just thrown the covers aside when he got out in the morning. An ornate, antique wooden dresser sat by his bed with a line of photographs and other things on top of it.
For a moment I felt bad about wanting to look, but he did say I could go wherever I wanted.
The photos were mostly of him with various elite people, some politicians and celebrities. He had a family photo with what I assumed were his parents, but beside that was something that took my breath away.
It was a necklace—a necklace of countless diamonds that looked like something fit for a queen.
Is he married?
I was shocked at just how much the thought pained me and just as I reached out to touch them, I heard Alden’s voice behind me.
“My ex-wife’s,” he said as I jumped and spun around to face him. “My last maid tried to steal them. Could have retired if she’d managed to fence them.”
“I—I didn’t mean to snoop—”
“I told you that you could go anywhere you wanted,” he smiled as he came around the bed and stood beside me. “Nothing is off-limits to you.”
I was blushing. Blushing and dripping wet for him. I wanted him to take me, have his way with me, but I could see that something was bothering him.
“What is it?” I asked. “Was the…emergency something bad? We…don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No,” he shook his head. “My ex-wife, actually. She faked another suicide attempt to try to get me to go back with her.”