Page 21 of His Undercover Maid

“That would be a travesty,” I whisper back, and slide my hand up her thigh, squeezing her leg through the denim. I see her glance over my shoulder at the darkened glass that separates us from the driver, and I sit back after nipping at her bottom lip. I can wait.

“I didn’t see you this morning. Was Mike on your rotation again?”

She nods and immediately looks wary.

“Did he harass you again?” I swear I will kill him if he’s attempted to lay a hand on her again.

“No,” she says, shaking her head quickly. “He just…I got the impression that he wasn’t too happy about the other morning, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

There’s a wariness about her again that I sensed when she got in the limo, and I wonder if she’s telling me everything about Mike.

“Rose…if he harasses you, you have to tell me.”

“I will,” she assures me, then asks, “So, where are you taking me?”

I sense that she’s trying to change the subject, but I can’t blame her for not wanting to ruin the evening by talking about that idiot. He’s clearly said something to unsettle her. I’ll have a word with him on Monday. Honestly, I can’t stand the guy and would love an excuse to fire him.

“Luxury hotel in the Hamptons,” I say casually, smiling when her mouth drops open.

“Wow, really?”

“Sure. We’ll be staying in a nineteenth century manor house, with our dinner cooked by one of the best chefs in the country…and I’ve booked you in for a full body massage afterwards. You work too hard.”

She looks uncomfortable at that. “Hardly, compared to you,” she murmurs.

“Hey. My job is no more worthy than yours. My mother cleaned for years, it’s a good, honest job.” She winces at that, and I add, “Although I know it’s not what you want to do long-term.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” she says, snuggling into my side and draining her champagne glass. “Tell me more about this lovely hotel.”

We chat about everything and nothing until we arrive at our destination, and I take pleasure in seeing the look on her face at our surroundings. Once the concierge shows us to our room – or, I should say, suite – it’s even better. In the bedroom the ornate four poster bed has been showered with rose petals at my request, and in the huge bathroom there’s a hot tub waiting and a fully laid out massage table. In the dining area a table for two is already laid with a bottle of white wine on ice, candles and fresh flowers, and a waiter stands ready to take our order.

“Wow,” she says.

“Do you want to eat now or wait a while? I’m starving,” I admit.

“Me too…although I don’t want anything too heavy if I’m about to have a massage.”

“I didn’t think of that,” I frown. “I’ve never done all this for a woman before.”

She looks delighted, her eyes shining. “Really?”

“Really. You’re special, Rose.”

She takes her seat at the table, blushing furiously again. Now that we’re here, and so close to the bedroom, the thought of finally sinking myself inside her is consuming my thoughts. I try not to stare at her as she eats, transfixed by her every movement.

“This food is delicious,” she says, catching me watching her.

“So are you.”

After a light dinner we drink wine on the balcony as the waiter clears away the table, then there’s a knock at the door.

“That will be your massage,” I say.

From my seat in the dining room I discover I can see the table from where I’m sitting, and I watch as Rose strips down to nothing but a lace thong and lies on her tummy on the couch with a towel covering her while the masseuse, a middle-aged woman with some impressive biceps, kneads and manipulates her muscles. I’m torn between the eroticism of her lying there half naked, covered in oil, and a twinge of jealousy that anyone else, even the masseuse, has their hands on my woman.

As the massage begins to wind down and the other woman has pulled the towel up to work on the back of Rose’s legs, revealing part of her ass, I can’t take any more. I get up and walk into the bathroom.

“You can leave now,” I say. The woman nods and silently picks up her oils and makes her way to the main door of our suite.

I shut the door behind the masseuse then walk over to Rose and roll her over, so she’s lying in front of me in nothing but her white lace thong. I run my eyes slowly down her body, drinking her in. I know every inch of her now, and tonight I’m going to finally claim her for my own. I reach for her breasts, palming them with my hand and rubbing the pads of my thumbs over her nipples. She closes her eyes and smiles, her lips pouting with contentment. My God, she is so fucking beautiful. I lean over her and kiss her softly, then trail my lips down to her luscious breasts, pushing them together so that I can take both nipples into my mouth at once, a move that elicits a little scream from her as I suck and lick at their stiff peaks.

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