Authors: Katie Porter
Cass’s jaw dropped. He could do that all day, adding facts to his character that would’ve seriously jeopardized the absorbency of her panties—had she been wearing any.
No matter how fabulous Ryan looked, her hands were restless for wanting to see him stripped. Something about his expression, however, told her he’d be the one giving orders.
Yes, sir.
“Well, I should finish up my duties.” So breathless now, she heard her accent slipping.
She turned to leave the bedroom, but he called out, “Miss? Could you help me first?”
“My pleasure,
monsie
—I mean, Ryan.”
He seemed to stifle a private smile. “This coat.” He began undoing the buttons. “It’s too hot in here for it. I won’t be able to get comfortable.”
“I should think not.” She crossed the floor, her knees shaky. “Here, let me help.”
He dropped his arms to his sides as she undid the remaining buttons. Her breath was coming in fitful gulps, but she forced herself to concentrate.
Calm down.
By the looks of how they were playing this hand, they would take their time. She needed to get herself under control or she’d wind up begging for a quickie down on the carpet to cut the tension. What she loved about their game was what would rip her up inside. The waiting. The deliberate buildup.
She pressed her hands flat against his body, right above his ribs. Slowly, slowly, she smoothed them up the inside of his coat, making love to his chest with her palms and her fingertips. His shoulders were tense. Corded ropes of muscles bunched and relaxed beneath her touch. She eased the dress coat over his shoulders then down his brawny arms.
Through it all he held his tense stance, chin thrust out. She liked to think she had all of him at attention, but she didn’t dare go for his crotch. Not yet.
The coat dropped to the floor behind him. Ryan seemed to snap out of his trance. “Thank you,” he said curtly. “You can hang that up now.”
Cass hid her smile. She angled her backside in such a way that he would get the choicest view as she bent at the waist. She took her time, first retrieving the coat, then strolling to the closet where she found a hanger. Every action felt bathed in molasses, so achingly slow. In that hotel room, time had ceased to have the same properties.
A
pop
sound yanked her heart into her throat. She turned to find Ryan pouring champagne. The pale blue dress shirt did even better things for his tan than the dark coat. Muscles pulled and shifted with every movement. Her mouth watered at the prospect of seeing him fully nude. They’d shared so much so quickly, but damn did they have a long way to go.
“Come,” he said.
“So soon?”
His gaze jumped to hers. His expression told her she was naughty to risk ruining their charade. “Cut the impertinence, miss. Come here.”
She toyed with the lace edge of her skirt as she approached. His eyes jumped and danced, as if trying to take in everything.
“My apologies again. It’s… I’m new here in
les États-Unis
. I wasn’t trained in cleaning. Not really.”
“What did you study?”
“The history of art.”
“Paris is a lovely city for that.”
“It is.”
Ryan handed her a full champagne flute before downing a big gulp from his. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he managed to appear. “Then what are you doing here, working such a menial job?”
Something about his eyes, the way he regarded her so intensely, transcended their game. They’d met in a restaurant, after all, where she bided her time waiting tables.
“One must have money,” she said.
“Then why not earn it doing what you love?”
Cass glanced down at his uniform, wondering for the first time what he did for a living. “Not all of us can be so exotic, Major, in following our passions.”
“No? Seems if you want something bad enough, you go for it.” He nodded to her champagne. “Now, drink.”
“Oh, but I cannot. I’m still on duty. My manager would be very displeased.”
“Your manager has a nasal whine and beady eyes. I’ve already taken care of him.”
Cass hid her giggle behind her glass then dove in for a healthy sip. The bubbles went straight to her oxygen-starved brain. Ryan made her half-drunk already. The alcohol didn’t stand a chance when compared to his blatant sex appeal.
“I want you to do something for me,” he said, his voice tight and low. He wasn’t a man about to ask for a hotel-issued toothbrush.
“Anything. Anything you need.”
He finished the last of his champagne then refilled them both. “Go sit on that loveseat.”
Cass willed her feet to move. She crossed away from the serving cart and sat primly on the edge of the loveseat’s stiff cushion.
“No, no.” Ryan wore the look of a man who was on the verge of losing his temper—or his control. “Not like that.”
He set his glass aside and met her there. The window behind her allowed the lights of the Strip to shine in, bathing his face and his crisp, pale blue shirt in color. His hands taut with tension, he grabbed Cass beneath her arms. Roughly he lifted her until she sat on the arm of the loveseat, her feet turned to rest on the seat cushion. A wall was at her back, about a foot away. She could lean against it if she needed to. For now she just waited, perched there, loving the way he touched her everywhere with his hot gaze.
“Cassandra,” he said softly.
“
Oui
?”
“I’m going to go down on you.”
“Oh!
Monsieur
, I cannot permit that.”
He sat on the cushion, right between her legs. “Why not? You deserve a reward for such diligent work.”
“I was sloppy. Impertinent.”
“Well, consider it a punishment, if you want. I won’t be deterred in this.”
He eased nearer, one hand on each of her thighs. The bag from the sex shop had contained a replacement pair of stockings. His expression was tense, serious, until he caught sight of that new black silk. Now playfulness and stark, powerful arousal fought for control.
Without warning he pulled her thighs apart. The skirt dipped into the valley between her legs, concealing her naked pussy. His fingertips trembled slightly as he lifted the lace hem. Cool air washed over her bare skin.
Ryan sucked in a breath. “Jesus.”
“Major?”
“Hmm?”
“I will let you do what you want.”
He looked up. She’d never seen a man so caught up in his desire. Cass felt powerful, feminine and so damn hot. “Good,” he rasped.
He ducked his head and licked, starting at the top of one stocking. He stopped just short of her neatly trimmed bush. A breath. A second of hesitation. Then he licked dead center, just one quick swipe of his tongue.
She shuddered.
Against that wet, sensitive skin, he whispered, “Just out of curiosity, why did you change your mind?”
He licked her again. Cass could hardly breathe, let alone form words. She swallowed and tried again. “Because after you’re finished, I’m going to return the favor.”
“Not if I don’t turn you over and fuck you first.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we,
monsieur
?”
“Seems like. But, Cassandra?”
“
Oui
?”
Ryan hooked his arms beneath her knees. “That’s gonna be a long time from now.”
Chapter Nine
Ryan was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven somewhere during the drive to The Paris.
Naturally, heaven was centered right between Cassandra’s sleek legs, wrapped in sexy packaging.
He’d thought her kisses tasted like crème brûlée, but he’d been insane. The taste of her pussy was even more delicious than her mouth. Creamy with just enough spice. Even better, she’d been soaking wet before his first lick.
He swiped his tongue flat over her center then curled one hand over her hipbone. He scraped his nails through her neatly trimmed curls. When he spread her lips open, he was rewarded with another shudder that worked down her legs. She dug her feet into his back. Even the bite of the heels she still wore worked for him.
Absolutely everything about this worked for him.
When the door had swung open and he’d seen her completely decked out in the French maid costume, his brain cells quit firing. The tiny straps of the bodice curled over her shoulders, and the skirt… The skirt had been barely there. The white underskirt flounced around her thighs as she’d turned away.
When she’d spoken in a French accent—the final straw. His mind had just been…blown. It had been everything he could do not to throw her onto the bed and bang the hell out of her.
Ryan had to make this right, to thank her for her willingness to humor him in this fantasy. He hadn’t indulged for so long, only lived it in his head more times than he could count. So the fact that she was ready to go along made the night even more amazing.
He licked and sipped at her pussy, pouring every ounce of gratitude into giving her pleasure. Her hands curled under the collar of his dress shirt and spread wide over the tops of his shoulders. Sucking, he set the barest edge of teeth against her clit—just enough to make her stomach jump. A quiet moan purred in her throat.
Ryan dragged the nubs of his nails back around her thighs, playing with the lace border of the new stockings. If he kept up, he was likely to ruin this pair too. He didn’t think she’d mind if he kept buying replacements. Maybe if he promised to make her come every time.
The stiff white petticoat brushed against his forehead. He pushed back the pulse in his balls that said his orgasm was entirely too close. He was
not
going to come in his dress slacks. Absolutely not. If that happened, she’d know exactly how nuts the entire scenario made him.
He circled the opening to her cunt with two fingers. Her juices spilled over his tongue.
“Oh,
monsieur
.” She kept up the act, but the accent seemed too much to maintain. Her trembling, restless hands said she was right on the verge of an orgasm. “God that’s good. Your mouth, sir. Lick me.”
Oh fuck, yeah.
He loved it—loved the pretending, loved the step they’d taken outside of themselves.
Not like there was any chance he would stop. He wouldn’t end this until his sexy maid came so hard she saw stars.
He pushed both fingers into her tight channel then curled his fingertips toward him, searching for that certain spot. He knew he’d found the right place when her nails dug into his neck and her entire body jerked.
She dropped backward, her upper back hitting the wall with a soft plunk. “Oh, God, sir.
Yes
. Right there. Don’t stop. Your mouth—” She broke off with a keening wail that signaled she’d come and come hard. Her sheathe clenched on his fingers.
Ryan was unbelievably glad he didn’t have to cut off her scream like he’d needed to at the sex shop. Heavy satisfaction almost let him forget about the way his cock throbbed against his uniform pants.
Though he drew his fingers away, he kept licking until her shakes eased and she pushed gently at his forehead.
He swiped the back of his hand across his wet mouth, unable to hold back his grin as he looked up at her. “Do you think your punishment was appropriate, Cassandra?”
The sigh that lifted her chest was rife with contentment. “I’m not sure,
monsieur
. Perhaps you should try another application.”
He pinched her hip underneath the fluff that barely imitated a skirt. “Is that how you speak to your employer?”
“No, sir,” she said with a swift smile. “I should never dare be so bold.
Merci
, do forgive me.”
“I think you might have to make it up to me.”
She pressed her skirt between her thighs, hiding the beautiful view of her wet pussy. “Right away, sir. First I believe we must take off this uniform. Your superior officers would be quite disappointed should you show up all…mussed.”
Would they ever. Ryan shoved back thoughts of the outside world and let her pull him to a standing position.
Cassandra stripped him methodically, starting with his uniform shirt before moving down to his belt and slacks. Along the way she stole caresses and strokes across his skin. He forced himself to stand at attention as if he wasn’t totally eating up the way she adored his body.
She folded each piece of his uniform and placed them in a dresser drawer—the bottom one of course, so she was forced to bend at the waist. The pale curve of her ass had likely never seen the sun. She treated him to a prime view.
When Ryan was finally stripped, she pushed on his chest until he walked backward toward the bed. The mattress hit the backs of his knees and he let himself sprawl.
“Oh,
monsieur
,” she breathed, her hand wrapping around his cock. He was so eager that a drip of precome dotted the head. Her fingers cooled his hot skin but offered no relief. She sank onto the mattress with one smooth move. “It appears that you have a problem.”
“I think that would depend on your point of view.” From his position, flat on his back and staring at Cassandra where she knelt between his knees, life looked damned good. The black bodice of the outfit cupped her breasts. He trailed a touch over the bare slope of her shoulder. “Perhaps you should do something about it.”
“I should hate to be told I give bad service.”
He had to choke back a snicker at that. Instead he coughed. “I would hate to give you a bad review.”
Cassandra’s stretch, reaching behind her, turned her body into a long sinew of beauty. The skirt flirted around the tops of her thighs, hinting at the sweetness he’d just tasted. She snagged her half-drunk glass of champagne, then looked up at him as she deliberately tipped it over his cock.
The cold splash sent a shiver through him and made his balls draw up. He loved it anyway.
“Oops. I seem to have caused a terrible mess.”
He schooled his voice to a modicum of sternness. “You better clean it up then, hadn’t you? You wouldn’t like to see me displeased.”
“Of course not,
monsieur
,” she cooed, still using that perky hint of an accent. Then she bent her head. Her tongue dragged up the full length of his cock.