Maid for the Millionaire (4 page)

It was slow work at first. My hips moved forward just enough to keep the angle right. I loved the feeling of my breasts pressing up against his chest through the fabric of my uniform. Then I moved backwards, touching my forehead to Mr.
Carawell in the process. Feeling the exhales of our breath intermingle. On my toes I continued to rock back and forth. It was a new position for me, but the surrealness of the tryst still hadn’t turned me off. It was almost like an addiction; I just couldn’t stop. With each glance at Mr. Carawell I almost felt boredom from him. Was he used to slow sex? On that thought, I grinded faster for him. Gripping his shoulders tight, practically slamming our chests together. The pleasure I felt grew more intense and soon I was feeling the heat of the moment again. Faster. Harder. More passionately. In that moment, I felt like a sexual goddess.

Hands roughly grabbed my hips. I paused in the moment to see Mr.
Carawell staring at me. He still wasn’t satisfied. I felt him pumping up from below. There were only a few thrusts before his pace became frenzied. Filling me to the hilt, pumping at an incredible rate. There was no way I could hold in the moans that flooded the room as he fucked me silly. With each thrust Mr. Carawell moved my hips to meet his movements. I no longer felt like I was making love. I felt like he was using my body for his own pleasure. In that second, in that room, the thought turned me on immensely.

It all happened in a blur. I buried myself in his shoulders as I felt the buildup in my womanhood. He roughly clawed at my back, tearing the uniform in certain places. The chair shook with such force I was sure it would fall over. My mind could only concentrate on the feeling of his dick continuously entering me at a frenzied pace. I couldn’t stop it.

“I’m coming!”

Mr.
Carawell stopped thrusting. I started grinding again before he wrapped his hand around my throat. Not tightly, but firmly enough to enforce the idea that he was in control. It took me a moment to register what was happening.

“April, you will not come until I say so.”

I nodded my head while squirming as much as I could. It was futile though. I couldn’t defy Mr. Carawell. With his hand still on my throat, I leaned into his lips. He returned the kiss, but half-heartedly. As if I was swearing fealty to him; he was acknowledging my submission. Our lips still locked, he once again thrust up into me. The way he played my body was masterful. We danced the edge of my orgasm, denying me relief with seconds to spare. I held off as long as I could. My body was shaking from the anxiety. I begged.

“Oh please, Mr.
Carawell. I can’t take it anymore. Please let me come.”

“April, I still haven’t given you my permission. I’m still not done with you yet.”

“Oh... Ah! Oh please. I can’t... I can’t take much moreeeee Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Sighing, he spoke.

“Very well. You may come.”

The second the words left his mouth I felt a rush of euphoria escalate through my body.
It cumulated in an explosive ecstasy that almost made me topple over. Mr. Carawell grabbed me to sit me up straight as he continued to pump away. I rode every trust through my orgasm before he came himself deep inside me.

It was quiet afterwards. No hushed whispers of voyeurs at the door. No murmur of confusion through the walls. Just the gentle breathing of us two as the blood rushed back to our heads. My head rested on his shoulder, looking right into his face. Mr.
Carawell had his eyes closed. Meditative. Calm. It was almost romantic. Before his eyes shot open.

“I need to go.”

Picking me up and setting me aside, Mr. Carawell began gathering his clothes. As he meticulously put them back on I questioned him.

“I’m
sorry, I just wanted to help you... I hated seeing you in pain like that.”

Sighing once more, he spoke.

“It’s not that April. You did nothing wrong. It’s me.”

Putting on his clothes at an almost expert pace, he continued.

“It’s as I said before. My past self was not someone I want to resurface.”

“What? Did what we just did stir something in you?”

Mr. Carawell remained silent as he buttoned up his shirt. I decided to press the issue.

“I can handle myself. Everything we just did, I wanted. So you like to be a little dominant? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Ignoring my question, he gave himself a once-over in the mirror. I wanted to keep talking. Show him that his past self was gone. But I realized that he was still practically a stranger to me. And as much as I wanted to, convincing him was out of my knowledge. For now.

“This won’t happen again. When we see each other tomorrow, there will be no mention of what transpired here tonight. Doing so will result in your termination. Are we clear?”

I nodded.

“Are you still ok with the incident with Mr.
Lockheart?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well. Good night April.”

And there he left the room, leaving me in a disheveled uniform and a sore body. I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up, desperately wanting some sleep. Instead, I spent the night staring at the ceiling in the dark. What could he be hiding? What was going on with
his wife? What was going on with his future?
I would find out in due time. We would be spending much more time together.

After all, I was his maid.

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