Veronica

My heart was beating like mad in my chest, as it seemed to be so often these days since I'd started working for Mr. Heyman.

Everything had gone great so far, as far as that was concerned. I'd gotten a handle on my responsibilities a lot quicker than I'd imagined I would have. It was all pretty straightforward work, nothing too complicated, and even taking care of Julie was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

She was such a sweet little girl, and so smart for her age. Or, at least, I imagined she was smart for her age, not that I had any kind of child rearing experience to go by in that regard.

I loved the feeling of holding her in my arms, like she was my own little girl. I loved rocking her to sleep, and letting her grab at my face, and playing peek-a-boo with her. Honestly, there were some days where I didn't really feel like leaving her for the night. I was getting far more attached to her than I knew I really should have- not to mention to the glorious specimen of maleness that was responsible for her existence.

I knew I was just the cleaning lady. That this was just a job like any other, and Johnathan and Julie were just my clients. But they began to feel like family to me. Like a real part of my life. Not just some tedious responsibility I had to tend to every day just to try and make a living.

The lines between my emotions and my responsibilities were quickly beginning to blur for me, and on the night in question that barrier was about to be pushed to its limits. Diminished beyond the point of any and all recognition.

Mr. Heyman had just gotten home, and I had just been about to leave when he stopped me at the front door, placing a gentle hand against my shoulder.

“Veronica, could you hold on for just a minute? I want to go up and tell Julie goodnight, but then I'd like to talk with you about something really quick if you don't mind. I mean, unless you have plans or something, in which case this can wait for some other night.”

“No, I'm not busy,” I insisted, a little too vehemently. In truth, I was supposed to have met Marcie for drinks almost a half hour ago, and his lateness back from the office had already pushed ahead my plans. But there was no way I could tell this man no, no matter what he asked me, and he smiled and nodded at my answer, like it was just what he wanted to hear.

“I'll just be a minute,” he said, then walked past me in silence, barely making eye contact with me.

And ever since then I'd been standing there in the foyer, stiff as a statue, my arms folded up behind my back as they'd been the moment he left my side. Of course, I had my fantasies about what this might be, but I didn't really believe them. I thought it far more likely that he was about to chastise me for something. That I was cleaning this wrong or I wasn't polishing that right. Knowing him as I'd come to up until now, he would be gentle about it, sure. But I still couldn't imagine being told any of the things I really wanted to hear.

Maybe a nice bit of disciplinary action will be in order, I mused to myself with a kinky grin. I imagined him pulling me over into one of his antique chairs, bending me over his knees and spanking my ass raw for whatever it was I must have done wrong.

There's no way, I thought sadly. But hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Suddenly Mr. Heyman reappeared as I was still thinking of my corporal punishment, and it was like being caught with my skirt yanked down around my ankles and one hand down my panties.

“Oh, Mr. Heyman, sir. Is Julie still sound asleep?”

“She is, thank you,” he said with a tender smile. His warmth was disarming, as was the warmth of his hand on my shoulder as he ushered me over toward the couch. “Please, come. Have a seat.”

I didn't need to be asked twice.

I sat down happily next to him on the couch and he adjusted himself in place next to me, smoothing out his dress pants and looking down at the floor in front of him. Just what the hell was this, anyway?

“Would you care for something to drink?” he asked me, finally looking up into my eyes. “Some wine, or?”

“No, thank you,” I said, although I immediately wished I'd accepted after I said this. “I'm good.”

“Well then, do you mind if I-?”

“Not at all,” I said.

He went over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of wine, and took a generous sip of it. He came back over to the couch and sat both the glass and the bottle down on the coffee table in front of us. Then he sat down with his hands between his knees, his fingers all laced up into one another. Maybe it was the low light and the shadows cast over the planes of his knuckles, but it just sort of sank in for me all of the sudden what an age difference there was between the two of us. Not that that was by any means a bad thing. Just that I noticed it, and it stirred something inside me.

“First off,” he said, “I'd like to tell you, right off the bat, that I have been endlessly impressed with the work you've been doing for me so far. Both as far as keeping up with the housework, and even more with how great a job you've been doing looking after Julie when I'm away.”

“Ohh,” I said, blushing at this. “The pleasure is totally mine. It doesn't even feel like work some days, she makes it so enjoyable for me.”

He grinned. “I'm glad to hear that,” he said. “I guess that means I don't have to keep on paying you then.”

I smiled back at him. “I really wish you would,” I said, and he laughed.

“If anything,” he said, “you deserve a pay raise. And we can talk about that if you want to. It's just. You've brought so much life back into this house. After all that's happened, well... I guess there have been times where it feels like I'm walking around through a crypt in here. Before I took you on I started wondering whether I should just sell this place, and put everything behind me. But in the end, I didn't think I could bare to part with all the memories I've made here, even if that meant keeping the bad ones...”

He was looking away from me again, and so I took the opportunity to study him. I wondered whether he was referring to the more recent murder of his previous housekeeper, or the loss of his wife. Then I decided, of course, it was just as likely that he was referring to both events, given how traumatic both experiences must have been for him.

“That's really nice to hear,” I whispered, smiling at him, trying to give him a look of full sincerity.

He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

“All that being said,” he continued, “there is something that I need to talk with you about...”

Here it was, I thought. I was certain from his tone that I was about to get a lecture on something. Taken to the woodshed for something I'd been doing wrong, without even being aware of it.

“Of course,” I said, trying to sound brave. “I'm always willing to do my very best to improve, in whatever area you believe that it's needed.”

He didn't seem to understand. He puzzled over this, then smiled with the same warmth he'd shown me earlier. Like he thought I was so naive, but so sweet. That's honestly how I felt in that moment.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Your performance has been nothing but exemplary, by all metrics. This is about something else. Something personal.”

This sure as hell got my attention.

Without really meaning to, I sat up straight, on edge as I prepared to receive his next words.

“Oh?” I said. Faking my unsuspecting innocence at this point was nothing short of a miraculous feat.

Another deep breath. Looking down at his hands again. Then curling them into fists, like he was forcing himself to come out with what it was he had on his mind.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he said.

“I won't be,” I assured him, my heart racing faster.

He smiled, but didn't look up.

“Well,” he said, “That's good. Because, I don't know what it is about you, Ms. Brewer. I mean, I do. You're smart. Talented. Funny. Kind. Drop dead beautiful.” (This got me blushing like you wouldn't believe.) “But it's something... Something so much more than all of that. Some indefinable quality, that I can't really put my finger on...”

I took a deep swallow at this. The idea of him putting his finger anywhere on me was making me weaker than I cared to admit. “Oh. I see,” I muttered, and I pushed my knees in tight together, like I didn't dare let him know what was happening to me down there.

“I want so much not to make things uncomfortable between us. I know that I'm your boss, and that I might be taking advantage of my authority by even bringing up these feelings.”

“You better be careful,” I teased, “I might report you to HR.”

I was hoping for a laugh, but he was so damn sincere. His expression just grew more serious, like this was a matter of life and death for him.

“Should I not have said anything?” he asked. “I'll stop right now if you're uncomfortable. Just forget I ever said anything, and I swear, this won't change anything whatsoever between us as far as I'm concerned.”

It was me that ended up laughing. Here he was. A man who was worth more than I ever would be in a dozen lifetimes. The world at his feet. Any woman he wanted likely willing to eat right out of his hands if he asked them to. And he was so afraid, so nervous about telling me how he felt about me. Like his hesitation wasn't already a loud and clear indicator of that.

It was such a gratifying feeling, knowing that I'd made a man like that feel the way that he did.

“I'm not uncomfortable,” I said softly. I fixed him with the gentlest, sweetest pair of eyes I could muster, and he seemed to calm down some when he looked up at them, his defenses falling.

“Oh,” he said, then he cleared his throat. “Well, then... I'm glad... Because the truth is, Veronica. In the time since you've started working here, you've been driving me a little bit crazy. In the best possible way. Everything about you, it- it just mesmerizes me. You fill something in me. Something that I feel like I've been missing for a while now. And maybe it's too soon, in a lot of ways, to take it as seriously as I might be. I mean, I have no idea whether you even remotely feel the same way about me. But I feel like- like I don't know. Like I just needed to tell you, I guess. However you feel about it. And-”

I stopped him at this point. I hadn't been planning to. It just happened.

My lips were against his.

I'd practically leapt across the couch to him, placing my hands on his shoulders, and drawing on him. Long. Slow. Deep. My heart fluttering. His lips delicious, making my toes curl, and my ears ring. His whole body was stiff for a moment, I think mainly because I'd caught him so unprepared. But then his shoulders slackened. His muscles grew loose. He sighed through his nose, and I felt his warm breath against my skin, giving me goosebumps.

I felt like I couldn't let go of him. Like I couldn't pull away, as improper as this was, and as hard as it was becoming for me to breathe. He didn't seem to mind, though. He brought his hands up to the sides of my face, stretching his palms out over my cheeks, holding me so gently.

It was such a delicate kiss. No tongue. No funny business. And yet it seemed to go on for so long. To stretch so endlessly as we sat there across from one another, lost in the heat of the moment.

Finally we separated. My chest was heaving, and sweat was standing out on my neck. I'm pretty sure my eyes were bugging too, like I was more surprised that I'd done that than even he was.

“I'm so sorry,” I said. “I don't know what came over me...”

He grinned. “Do I look disappointed to you?” he asked.

I smiled back at him. “Well, no. Not really.”

He laughed. “Should I take this to mean, then,” he said, gently pushing a strand of hair from my eyes, “That you might feel a little bit the same toward me as I feel about you?”

“It's a possibility,” I said shyly, feeling like a teenager, the way he so often made me feel.

“Well, then... I'm glad to hear we're on the same page.”

We stared at one another for a long moment. Like there was so much more that needed to be said, but we couldn't quite find the words to say it. Then we kissed again. Or, he kissed me again, and I wasn't about to pull away from him.

It was even better this time. Hotter. Steamier.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him by the midriff. My back felt like it was about to erupt in flames at his touch, and at this point I wanted nothing more in the world than to let him consume me.

His palms shimmied up and down along my spine, and his tongue pushed deep into my mouth, sliding in gentle circles around my cheeks. I let out the most feminine of whimpers, my shoulders tensing up, my body pressing in toward him as a demonstration of my need.

I kept expecting him to take charge. To exert his control over me, and show me who was quite literally the boss. But I simply couldn't seem to stop myself from clambering all over him. Climbing up onto his warm, solid body, sliding my hands across his chest, loving the steady thumping against my palm every time I pressed against his heart.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he whispered to me, as I leaned further and further into him.

“Hell no,” I said between violent intakes of air, barely able to stay in control of myself. “But don't stop...”

Before I knew it, I was on top of him. Straddling him there on the couch, so turned on that I didn't think I could ever be turned off again. At least, not until I'd gotten what I wanted out of him. What I so truly, desperately needed from him in that moment.

His hands slid up along the back of my shirt, untucking it from my skirt so that his palms seared the bare flesh of my naked spine. I let out an earnest whimper, my jaw trembling as the goosebumps spread across my entire body, my nipples hardening against his chest as it rose and fell against me.

Practically dying for it at this point I reached out and began unbuttoning his dress shirt with one hand, loving each new inch of bare flesh visible to me as I stripped him to his core. With my other hand, I reached down between the two of us and grabbed at him, thinking even as I did it that it was a step too far too fast, but deciding that I really didn't give a damn.

He was as hard as I expected he would be as I wrapped my fingers tight around him, pressing his cock through the fabric of his dress pants and loving the way it kept getting harder and harder against my fingertips. He groaned with pleasure, and shook beneath me. Then before I knew it his hands were on me again, this time on my upper arms, though not with any of the tenderness or affection I might have hoped for.

Instead of caressing me, or pulling me closer, he was pushing me back, nearly giving me whiplash as my head jerked up away from him.

“God, I'm sorry. Too far?”

“No. No,” he said, shaking his head. “Just... Not here.”

“Oh?” I said, relieved, but not understanding his objections. “Where then?”

He smiled at me. He slid his legs out from beneath my weight, and set his feet down onto the floor, steadying his weight. Then he surprised me, by lifting me up into his arms, pulling me close to his body and carrying me from the sofa to the stairs.

We kissed the entire way up as he carried me along, my arms wrapped around his neck, my body cradled so gently in his arms that I thought I knew how Julie must feel every time that he held her.

We were in his bedroom before I knew it, every inch of me burning for him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He placed me down on the bed and I lay there, looking down along my body at him.

“This is much better,” he said, and peeled the dangling remnants of his sweat soaked shirt away from his chiseled musculature. I gazed, unashamedly open-mouthed, at his sculpted pectoral muscles. The glorious rungs of his six-pack abs, and the sweeping, unexpected arrow of his Adonis muscles.

He smiled at my reaction, clearly pleased at how wide my eyes and my mouth both were at that moment. To top this off he unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, and pulled them down along the course of his body. He had on a tight black pair of underwear beneath, an unmistakable erection pressing its imprint against the fabric, and a dark pool of his desire seeping through at the tip.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, and I nodded at him, fixing him with my darkest bedroom eyes.

“I just hope you do too...” I said, and he stepped toward me, that perfect body getting nearer and nearer, and my head getting lighter and lighter.

“I'll be the judge of that.” he said.

Then he climbed up on top of me on the bed. He pinned my hands up over my head against the mattress, and kissed my face. My neck. My shoulders. My clavicle. Everywhere but my lips, as starving for him as I was becoming at this point.

He peeled me out of my shirt, and immediately put his hands to my chest. He pushed up on my breasts, kneading them through the cups of my bra, and causing the straps to sink down along my shoulders. I let out a perfect little whimper that must have set him off just right. He put his lips in the center of my chest and ran his tongue along my cleavage, then pushed the cups of my bra down, exposing my nipples for his viewing- and tasting- pleasure.

He took them in his fingers, and squeezed on the tender flesh. I moaned, and worked my body up into him. He pulled back, and twisted, and got my heart racing faster and faster, taking me to heights I might never come down from again. Every touch, every move he made got me wanting it more and more.

Then he opened his mouth, and pushed it up against my left breast. I closed my eyes, gasping, and felt the warmth of his mouth dissolving around me. The firmness of his teeth sinking into me, leaving an unmistakable impression.

“Oh yes... Yes...” I gasped to him.

The tighter he bit down, the more firmly his fingers sank into the opposite breast, and I felt like I might just melt against his grip at any moment. He pulled back slowly on me, stretching me out between his teeth, and just when I thought it would be too much for me, he let go. The flesh fell softly back into place, and I let out a shuddering gasp, my eyes wide with sensation.

“You like that, don't you?” he asked redundantly. I was too high on him right now to even think about answering.

He alternated between my breasts, taking it slow, moving from one side to the other and back again, getting me so worked up for him that I almost couldn't stand it. Then, in the middle of it all, I felt one of his hands sinking down along the front of my body. He pushed into my skirt, and reached down across the lace of my lingerie.

“Just stop me if I go too far,” he whispered to me. At this point I didn't think there was any possible danger of that happening, and if there was I would be far too dumbstruck by the time he actually made it there.

He reached between my legs, and gently moved my panties out of the way. He reached out to me, then, and gently stroked my wetness. Like he was admiring just how badly I wanted it. How much I needed it. His touch so delicate, yet so intense, and my arousal growing worse and worse with every move of his fingertips over the silky perimeter of my vulva.

“I think someone's a naughty girl,” he said with a sneer, his breath blowing hot against my neck.

“Fuck I want you so bad,” I gasped, in a single breath, well aware that this was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He shoved his fingers up inside me without further delay. I squeaked. I tensed up. His fingers drove up higher and higher, and I almost couldn't take it. But then he relented. I relaxed. I let out an exhausted sigh, my eyelids fluttering as he pulled away from me, grinning.

“That's it,” he said. “Nice and easy...”

He alternated between firmness and gentility. Pushing his fingers softly up inside, pulling them so tenderly back out again. Working me up to it, letting me relax, then causing me to want more, and more, and more of him as his pace intensified.

“Yes... Yes... Oh God yes...”

Sometimes he would laugh at me. Amused by my shrieks. My gasps. My inability to control myself with his fingers inside me. It was so cruel, and yet it made me want him so much more. Feeling so helpless, so delicate in his grip. I never wanted to stop. Ever.

He pushed faster, and harder, and deeper. His hand began to slap against my body as his fingers thrust inside, and my cries quickly deteriorated into a long, drawn out moan of ecstasy.

There was only so much of this a girl could take- and yet I found myself wanting more, and more, and more of it...

He drove me right up to the brink. Just to the point where I thought it was inevitable, and I knew, I knew that climax was just around the corner.

And then he stopped.

He pulled back dangerously, a sharp withdrawal that nearly gave me a heart attack.

I lurched forward from the bed like I'd just been in a car crash, gasping and panting for my breath, my entire body trembling as I tried to settle myself back down again.

Why the hell had he stopped, I wondered, but I was too breathless to even begin to ask him.

He was smiling at me, though. Fixing me with his eyes, like he had me exactly where he wanted me, and he and I both knew it.

I swallowed hard waiting for whatever torture, whatever beautiful torment, he might have in mind for me next. He reached out to me, and I saw how wet his fingers were from being inside me. And then, as he brought them up to my lips, I thought I knew exactly what it was he had in mind for me next.

I closed my eyes as he pushed his fingers into my mouth. I took a deep breath, savoring myself on him, so sweet and delicate and light. It made me feel so dirty, and yet so intimate with him, and I loved every second of it.

Gently I opened up my eyes, and it only took one look at that smile of his to know I was in for something special.

“How do you taste?” he asked me.

“Good,” I said, my cheeks red hot as I said it.

“I better find out for myself then...” he said.

Then he pulled down my skirt.

He gently slid the lace of my panties down along my body, moving them across my thighs, to my knees, down to around my ankles. Instinctively I pushed my legs together, like I had something to hide from him, so that all he could see was the soft white triangle of flesh, pointing him to where he wanted to go. Like he hadn't just been all up inside me, giving me exactly what I wanted in far greater quantities than I could stand.

He ran his hands up along my thighs, making me tremble on the bed as he rose along to my knees. His fingers curled in against my kneecaps, and very gently he opened me up, spreading my legs. A revelation I was only too happy to indulge for him.

I sighed as I felt myself being exposed to him. My pussy glistening as it burned for him, the wet, floral folds looking like the most savory of delicacies to the man gazing down at me. He grinned, and gave me a last, dark look. Then he drew his body in. I felt the heat of his breath inside me. He kissed me.

I wanted to scream.

That beautiful head of jet black hair pressed hard against my body. His lips melting against me, making me feel like the most wanted woman in the world. His tongue lapped around my trembling vulva, moving around and around, building up the tension as my patience grew thinner and thinner. Then he pushed it inside me, and I did scream, just a little bit. His warm tongue making me blush, for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. It slipped and writhed around the inner walls of my body, eating me up like I was the only thing that could possibly satisfy his hunger.

I hoped this was true. But whether it was or not, I knew for a fact that he was the only thing in the world that could satisfy mine.

I closed my eyes and lay there, taking it. Gasping. Moaning. Feeling the fire in my loins and in my belly, his tongue bringing out an itch that couldn't be scratched, except by him, doing exactly what he was doing. A prickling sensation, a warm radiance of pleasure spreading out between my thighs and up along the trunk of my body. Bathing every inch of me. Swallowing me up.

That tongue of his, jostling around. Twisting and penetrating. Flicking. Lapping. Dipping in, and then plunging. Destroying me from the inside out as the sensations grew, and grew, and grew.

Over and over again he took me to the point of no return. Right up to the precipice of where I could no longer stand it, just before easing me back down again. I was growing so used to it, so accustomed to his backing me down at the last moment, that I found myself wholly unprepared as he rode me to full climax. His tongue striking at just the right spot, at just the right moment. And then staying there...

God it was far, far too much for me.

I screamed. My ass tightened, and my legs slammed together, my knees imprisoning him exactly where he wanted to be- and exactly where I wanted him to be...

Colors flashed and sizzled before my field of vision. I breathed through my teeth, trying to keep in control, but failing delightedly as the orgasm ripped through my body like a tidal wave. It swept me under, dragging me deep beneath its currents.

My fingers curled into that jet black hair, nearly digging into his scalp.

I held onto him so tight that I might never let go, and screamed as the pleasure poured into every inch, every digit, every nerve of my trembling, breathless form.

It felt like absolute heaven on earth...

I held and held, sustaining my pleasure for as long as humanly possible as it burned through my entire body. I never wanted it to end. Never wanted to be free of the miraculous force that had seized me in its grip, and pulled me so violently beneath its surface.

Inevitably, though, the feelings ebbed gently away. They dissolved from between my legs and radiated along my thighs, spreading out across my body until they grew thin and insubstantial.

And then I just lay there. Shaking in a pool of my own sweat. Johnathan's perfect face still buried between my legs, licking softly, nibbling on me. Easing me back down again after he'd pushed me so fast and furious through the roof of all I could stand.

He relented finally. Kissing the insides of my thighs. Running his hands along my legs, adding to the purity of all I was presently feeling.

I was so grateful to him for the gift that he'd given me, and yet I couldn't help but be just the least bit disappointed that it was over. I lay there with a smile on my face, my heart still racing like it didn't know when to quit.

I very gently opened my eyes, and I saw happily through the crevices of my eyelids that my fears were entirely unfounded. Of course this wasn't over yet...

He was sliding a hand down into his boxers, grabbing his immensity. He pulled the black fabric down along his thighs, and pushed his long cock out into the open, his enormous shaft dripping with pre-cum, his loose red balls jostling in his grip as he pumped himself.

Honest to God, it was at that very moment that I first began to suspect that I might just be in love...

He smiled as he rose up over me, not saying a word as he covered my burning body like a blanket. He used his legs to keep mine pushed apart, and I felt the hot enormity of his tip pressed up against the opening of my slit, hovering there for moments on end as the anticipation built.

Then he pushed in.

My flesh tightened.

My back stiffened.

My eyes went wide.

I opened my mouth to moan, or scream, or do anything, but no sound came out.

I knew, even as he plunged me back into a state of sheer ecstasy, that I was a total goner...