HAYLEY

My life goes back to normal, or my new normal. I continue to play grunt at the hotel. I do it because I heard all those stories about Steve Jobs only attending calligraphy courses. Or rather when the world was my oyster those stories guided me. I was the exception. I didn’t need college to climb my way out of my circumstance. What I didn’t consider is how poverty is quicksand, and now I do all the things at the hotel to save up money so I can survive in between classes and my future career.

This all seems like a tangent, but as usual I’m working my fingers to the bone, and not once do I see Davis.

I tell myself not to worry. He’s a grown man. He got himself into the kind of trouble the government can then dictate his life in exchange for his freedom. How could I have known my snooping would screw that up for him?

That logic is right, solid and I’m sure someone can put a plaque on that bedrock. Guilt and worry still gnaw at me when a week goes by and there’s no sign of him. Telling myself to be concerned with my own neck ups by a thousand. I’m leaking information to a hacker, and though I’m invisible to the people around me, eventually when leaks happen everyone looks to the paid staff. I stand to lose everything that matters. A co-worker can get caught up in my mess and that’s the last thing I want.

All I hope for is that if I go down more than a few corrupt people go down with me.

On day nine, as I’m making a bed doing my rounds just as a maid—not maid slash Deep Throat—I’m thinking about Davis going down with me. He’s not faceless. Oh, he’s so corrupt. So am I if one wants to be honest. Principles aren’t white and black. I used to believe good people never broke the law or strayed from their moral compass.

If an unbiased party wants to weigh actions…I’m taking whispered confessions, forgotten cell phones under beds or notes tossed in the trash and giving that information to someone who has no problems leaking it to the public. I’m invading people’s privacy for political gain.

What was Davis doing? He fucked people. He fucked people with their full consent, and he got paid for it. Maybe my life is upside down now, but that doesn’t seem like a damning offense.

Or maybe it’s all excuses. I tell my gut that as I go room to room, cleaning up things, collecting some and being invisible.

It’s not until the end of my shift on day nine where I’m picking up food trays that the world shifts under me. But I should have known. The penthouse had a Do Not Disturb sign up for three days. Management had already set up deliveries of food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was weird, but by now I was use to that at the hotel where whims are wishes that get granted.

Today, though, the occupant stands at the door waiting for me.

Why, of course, it’s Davis.

I’m flooded with relief at the sight of him. I shouldn’t be. Nor should I be making eye contact with his nipples but I’m starting to understand why a man would be obsessed with breasts. He laughs softly, and I force myself to look up and say something.

“Do you have a thing for our towels, or did you know I was coming?”

“Both?” His stare doesn’t waver from mine as he backs into his room. “Come in.” He said he didn’t make promises with his voice, but his tone is coaxing.

“I’m working and I don’t want to.” I lean forward to check the bed. It’s mussed, and even though I haven’t seen him or his client, that doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m alone and I’ve been alone since I checked in.” His smile widens. “Yes, I can read your mind.”

I really hope not, especially when he’s only in a towel. “Anyway, work. For me. My kind of work. Cleaning things.” See. I can’t shut up when he’s exuding pheromones and speaking in a voice that begs me to get naked.

The way his gaze kind of smolders tells me he knows, and enjoys me being flustered. Bastard. “I really do want to talk to you. We can stay out in the hallway if you want.”

“Or how about I pick up your tray and we pretend like we don’t know each other?”

“I’ve retained a lawyer.”

I don’t want to admit how much that matters. I shrug instead. “What you do—”

“You’re off the hook.”

“Who said anything about—”

“My smirk might look vulnerable to you, but your eyes are very expressive. You looked relieved when you saw me. For the record, I wasn’t being waterboarded for the last week. I was being dragged over hot coals by my attorney, and then I was told to hide out in a safe place.”

I stop trying to act like I don’t care. “Is he any good?”

He gives me the smirk and I want to bite his lip again. “If he’s a hard-ass with me, and I’m paying him, the FBI won’t stand a chance.”

“You were an FBI informant?” No wonder he’d been pissed at my meddling. “They didn’t freeze all your money?”

“You really want me to talk about this in the hallway?”

I glance around us then sigh. This is the penthouse. No one else is up here, but you never know who might be listening. I drag in the cart, and step inside the penthouse as a guest of a guest. I’m in my maid’s uniform, which is barely functional as clothing to clean in, much less to stand in a room with a man wearing muscles and a killer smile.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and move over to the bay window that faces downtown Hartsburg. The hotel is only twenty floors up, but I can see everything from the local college to where I grew up on the other side of the tracks. The sun setting makes all the glass downtown sparkle. My city is beautiful.

I’m not here to enjoy him or the view. I ask, “What’s your attorney’s name?”

“Do you need him?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

I likely couldn’t afford him. “Curiosity.”

“A friend of a friend, Duke Alexander. He’s kind of a big deal.”

I’ve seen his name in the newspapers a time or two. He’s always representing criminals and getting them off on technicalities. I make a face. “I guess he’s a good attorney.”

He laughs. I turn to see it play across his face. He’s handsome in a disgusting way as in no man should look that good. It’s just not right or fair. Still I bask in the way his laugh lines make indents around his mouth.

My eyes track to the door. Before I walked in I had ten minutes left on my shift. This was the last floor to pick up food trays. I probably smell like that’s what I’ve been doing all day.

And I shouldn’t be here alone with him. He’s not everything I’m fighting against, but he’s part of it in a smaller way.

Isn’t he?

His hands close on my shoulders, and his thumbs easily find the knot just below my neck. I close my eyes. The scent of sandalwood surrounds me. “Davis…”

“You’re tense.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I’m not trying to get into your pants. I just…”

It’s not until hear I sincerity in the pause that I relax under his fingers. “This is my life, Davis. I don’t need a massage. I need to get downstairs to clock out before my manager crawls up my ass.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. He writes up anyone who he thinks is trying to get overtime.”

The warmth of his hands slips away. I turn only to see him strolling over to his phone. He picks it up. “Xavier,” is all he says.

Xavier? I gasp. “You are not calling my boss,” I whisper loud enough only he should hear me.

He ignores me. “Xavier, I need the room cleaned up. One of your staff is here and she’s doing it. Clock her out at the end of her shift.” He’s quiet for a second. “I don’t know what that word is.” He laughs. “Appreciated. That one I know.”

He drops the phone back into its cradle then looks at me, pride—maybe ego—in his eyes.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I say. “You don’t think he won’t ask me questions later?”

“And you’ll tell him that asshole in the penthouse made you change the sheets and leave new toiletries before I let you leave.”

That lie is plausible. I hate he’d thought of it with such ease. “So you’re not being waterboarded, you have an attorney and you’re hiding out in the penthouse. Is that all you felt you had to tell me?”

“No, actually.” He walks to the edge of the bed and sits down. The towel parts along his thigh.

I swallow. “Then what?”

He leans back on the bed, propped up on his palms, puffing up his chest ’cause he knows I can’t help but look. He’s not half-man, half-bear hairy, which I’m not entirely against. The light blond strands slick down his chest and grow darker below his belly button where the towel barely hides the shaved skin.

He laughs and I’m sure it’s at my expression. “I’m not going to bite you unless you ask me to. I want to see how you’re doing. I want to know if there’s anything I can do to help you. You’re playing spy, and as far as I know there’s just you that has your back.”

His answer is why the staff is discouraged from fraternizing with guests. Familiarity brings on a sense of intimacy. More than once Xavier has told me tales of previous maids who thought the rich councilman or CEO really cared about them.

They didn’t. They never did.

The maid or the staff was a passing fancy.

I’m not insecure enough to believe there’s no way he can find me physically attractive or appealing in an intellectual way. But what exactly does a man who can charge to have sex look for in a normal woman?

“I’m fine, Davis. I’ll be okay.”

His laugh is so bitter I’m surprised my mouth doesn’t pucker at the sound. “I’m trying to think if what I did to you is more than enough for you to hate me.” His chin lifts as he considers that. “It is enough, but…”

“But what?”

“What do you really want to happen right now?”

I’m ashamed to say I believed his looks were the sole reason women paid him for sex. I wouldn’t even if I could, but from head to toe he’s kind of perfect. I can almost understand wanting to pay for the pleasure of having Davis centering me in his life. He could do that for an hour or five minutes and it wouldn’t be a dime wasted.

But women didn’t flock to him just to end up staying because he somehow had a magic cock. They did it to get those blue eyes fixed on them, to have every part of them stripped down to their base needs with a single question. To be seen. And Davis can see me even when I’m standing in his room, half drooling and lying to myself about why I’ve stayed in his hotel room. I’m not romanticizing this knowledge. It’s just a fact as I stand acres away from him and still every part of me is being caressed by his gaze.

That sensation makes it easier to step away from the windows to him, until I can press my fingertips to his face. Stubble prickles the tips of my fingers. The muscles in his stomach flex. It’s a simple thing. Really a reflex. Yet it’s so sexy. I trace the curve of his jaw.

He curls his hand around my wrist. “Stay,” the word is barely above a whisper.

The plea feels real. I should hold onto the anger at how he scared me. I should be wary as fuck an escort who is in hiding is turning to me for…comfort? Connection? “And if I do?”

“Tell me what you would want to do.” He straightens from the bed but doesn’t stand. His neck is stretched as he looks at me. “Can I touch you?”

I glance at the door. It’s right there. Maybe twenty steps away. On the other side is…I don’t know. I’ve already put my job at risk, put on a gray hat. I’m already doing things that scare the shit of me because I don’t know where I’ll end up.

Letting Davis touch me is equally insane, disastrous and a list of things I can’t remember because the scent of sandalwood is filling my head.

“Yes, you can touch me, Davis.”

He doesn’t move his gaze from mine when he palms the backs of my thighs, moving his hands up slowly. “For months I’ve wondered what you wear under this uniform.”

My cheeks heat. At times I’d been sure he was checking me out, but he’d wondered about my underwear? “What?”

“I could never find a panty line.” His palms rove over my bare bottom. He hisses. “Knew it.” He grabs the thin straps of my thong. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes.” I spread my legs to help him.

He scoots to the edge of the bed, dragging the towel across his lap exposing all of his right butt cheek. It’s a slow, accidental strip tease and I’m finding it hard to breathe. He bends and I can hear his voice muffled by my uniform asking me if he can take off my shoes and socks.

“My feet—”

“Don’t care.”

I huff. “Okay.” I watch him cater to me in a way no man ever has. “Are you going to ask at every step?”

One corner of his mouth goes up. “You can give me a blanket permission to do whatever, anything and everything, I want to do to you.”

“What would that entail?”

His eyes light. “That could mean you ride my face. Or I fuck yours. Maybe I dig out some lube and we’ll see if your ass can take all of me. We fuck each other through our clothes. I get you off with just the tip of my cock rubbing your clit.” He shrugs. “Depends.”

Is it wrong I want to rip off the towel and get started on at least two of those things? I can only say, “Hmmm.”

His chuckle is like taking a bite of chocolate. It’s dark, delicious and hits the spot. Oh, god. It’s decadent. “It’s been a while for me,” he says. “I’m going to want to do everything.”

“Nine days is a long time for you?”

He bows his head, his hands riding up my hips again while his fingers draw small circles along my skin. “It’s been a while since…”

Since someone didn’t pay him for it, I finish for him in my head. I cup his face with both hands. “Can I kiss you?”

Red creeps from his chest up to his cheeks, but he laughs and my knees lose a bit of strength. The kiss should have been light, breezy, given Davis was still laughing when I leaned down to put my mouth on his. Except once his lips connect with mine, my heart quakes like I’ve been hit with lightening. I’m buzzing from our lips touching.

His arms slide under my ass, and he locks his hold as though I would stop. Then he’s kissing me like he hasn’t done something this simple in ages. Maybe he hasn’t and there’s no way I can feel anything but special. We move from a chaste meeting of mouths to lip sucking and then tongue. All of it is both soft and hot. Way more tender than what I’d expected from someone who embodies sex with every breath.

We kiss long enough it becomes its own form of fucking. I’m matching his rhythm with my tongue, sliding mine along his and sucking the tip only to start again. Each time it’s just deeper and deeper until I’m lost. My inner thighs are damp and slick. I want to squeeze my muscles to get off from this. The fact that I could is enough to make me need to.

He pulls back an inch. “Can I—”

“Yes.” I try to eat his mouth in small servings so I don’t fill up too fast on the taste of him.

He loosens the bear hug he had on my legs to unbutton my uniform. It takes him forever because he brushes his knuckles against every inch of revealed skin. The flesh above my knees gets attention. My mid-thigh, upper thigh is next. I melt when his knuckles spread my slit and graze my clit. He stays there for a while, moving his hand along the seam of my sex, flicking his tongue into my mouth like he’s showing me how he wants to lick me.

I slide my fingers into his strands and tug. I can feel his laugh in my bones, singing along my nerves.

He says, “You have to tell me what you want, Hayley.” His hands climb up the buttons of my uniform. He pulls back more, parting the material. It feels strange to say his gaze eats me up, but I don’t doubt he’s thinking of all the things he wants to do with my skin with his mouth as he takes me in.

I thank the heavens it was laundry day and I had limited options to wear to work. I didn’t dress for function, but convenience. That means I’m wearing a red lacy demi-cup bra.

“Hayley—”

“Yes.”

His hands are gentle as he undresses me until I’m bare, standing in front of him. The towel across his lap is tented and I get the barest hint of the base of his cock. It’s as thick as I remember it. Once again blushed from arousal. I swallow, aching to taste him.

“What,” he says, deep and rough, “do you want?”

I’ve never been shy, but I’ve never been direct outside the blur of sex when words like “fuck me harder” are reasonable. I kiss his mouth, his jaw and turn my face into his neck. It’s the only way I can say what I need. He won’t judge me, and still I hesitate.

“Davis…”

He presses his face into my stomach, leaving kisses along my rib cage. That small seduction takes a while and I can’t remember what I was afraid to say. Then he looks up at me. “What I want is to bury my tongue between your pussy lips with nothing in between us so I can know your taste intimately.”

“I—”

“And after I’ve made you come with my month, I want to sink into you, feel you squeeze my dick, so wet and deep—”

I kiss him. I push him down on the bed and he goes willingly as I climb his lap to straddle him. He breaks the kiss only to sink his teeth on a tender spot on my neck. The moan that escapes me is porn star worthy. He’s a blur of motion, flipping me onto my back, sliding between my legs and dragging his mouth down to my collarbone. His hands cup my tits, but it’s his thumbs and forefingers driving me wild. They pinch and squeeze and flick the buds tight and achy. His mouth follows with a harsh but wet assault.

He’s talking again, muttering against my skin. I don’t need to hear the words to know they are explicit and detailed. He meant it when he said consent makes his dick hard. His cock rests against my inner thigh, thick and fuck, fuck, wet. He’s smearing pre-come on my skin, lightly grinding into me as his mouth deadens my brain.

It’s the only explanation for why I can hear myself say, my voice husky and damn near a growl, “I want to suck you.”

He stills, his head rising up slowly until his gaze clashes with mine. “How?” is all he says.

He wants the details. I’m finally horny enough to tell him, yet I can still feel the rush of heat flooding to my face. “I want to be on my knees with you in my throat.”

Davis bites down on my lip and groans. Takes him a few more seconds to push off from the mattress, dragging me with him until we’re standing by the bed. “Get on your knees.”

Like him, I read. I’ve gobbled up books that include men who bark orders and the women who succumb to them without question. I never thought it could happen to me, but I’m on my knees and I can’t process when I bent them.

And Davis’s jaw is taut, his gaze dark and he’s stalking to the other side of the room. He opens a drawer, smiles, looks at me then digs in. What monster have I unleashed? The seconds tick by and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. He literally throws the extras on the bed. My head is too busy trying to see the items and watch what he’s doing behind me. He’s rips open a condom, pulls it over his thick cock as he walks toward me. On the bed there’s lube and…dental dam? It’s a long piece of latex colored hot pink. I look to him, and he’s smirking, of course.

I take in a breath and he’s standing in front of me, the backs of his knees against the bed, his hand closed around the base of his cock. His voice is a growl. “Can I fuck your mouth?”

Anyone else and I’d waver, but he’s made explicit feel like a safe space. “After I come. I’m going to want to play with myself as I suck you.”

He mutters, “Fuck,” but he only holds himself. I close my hand above his and take him into my mouth. We both moan. It’s too easy to take more, to let him glide past my lips. I do it until the lube on the condom mingles with my saliva. Davis drops his hands and balls both at his sides. I take him deeper. His groans rumble through us both.

The taste of rubber from the condom is strong, but my nose is so close to his pubic hair the scent of him is a flavor in the back of my throat. I do my best to swallow it, swallow him. Too fast. My gag reflex caves my stomach. Breathe. I slide him back out of my mouth, take in air then lower my mouth again. My spit grows thicker. I use it to fist him, and slick the way for me.

“You can fuck my mouth,” I murmur.

But he hears me. His hands clasp the sides of my head and still he’s gentle when he jerks his hips to my every downstroke. He holds himself still when I gag. I hate the sensation, but I love the way his stomach flexes, goes concave because he loves the feel of my mouth, my throat. I close my hands on his pelvis and find a rhythm. Out. In. Deep. Swallow him down.

His grunts turn raw. “Fuck. Slurp up all that spit.”

My pussy throbs. I want to play with myself. I know if I do I can close my eyes and my throat will relax more, I can take him, take whatever he needs to do to my mouth to come. I drop my hand to my lap.

“No,” he says. “Tonight I’m the only one who gets to tease your clit.”

I moan and press my thighs together. He pulls out of my mouth, still stroking himself. The smile he gives me thuds into me. It’s so fucking wicked, knowing.

“Do you know what I want, Hayley?”

“Something depraved?”

He laughs. “We’re going to fuck, but when I’m close, I want you on your knees again. I want to fist my cock and come on those pretty lips of yours. I want them pursed and wet.”

I can’t smile knowing I was right. I can barely move thinking of the picture he’s drawn. I want that. Shit, I need it. “I want you to pick me up, throw me on the bed and make me come.”

He smiles. “See. It doesn’t hurt to say exactly what you want.”

Davis helps me up. I climb onto the bed, and he’s right there on me, our skin brushes as he follows me up the mattress. Before I could even settle onto the bed on my back, he’s curling his fingers behind my knees, pushing my legs wider. In the next breath, he’s inside me, moving slow but hard. I dig my nails into his back because he’s too big. I’m wet. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, but he’s stretching me first with shallow thrusts, then his balls are pressed against my ass at the end of every pump. Every exhale is a moan or a pant.

I’m unraveling. His eyes are just dark. I can see the hint of a smile as though he knows every jerk of his hips makes my toes curl.

“Wait,” I breathe.

I glance up to find the pillows. I grab one and push him back until I settle it in the middle of my back. I drag him back to me and we’re fucking again, except this time my hips have more leverage. I can meet his every thrust with one of my own, rolling my hips so that my clit rubs against his pelvic bone. The interruption is worth it because now he’s moaning with me. The arms that have imprisoned me beneath him tremble. I have never felt more sexy, more wanted than I have in this moment. We trade kisses and sweat and fuck each other like it’ll be the last time we can.

He shifts to the side, his hips still pumping, but his thumb presses my clit. I moan into his mouth and it sounds pained. He holds still, while his thumb decimates me. I fist my hand in his hair and try to ride the orgasm building. His hand slides up, the curve of his thumb and forefinger hooks the back of my knee. He pushes my leg and just grinds into me.

I would like to say I came in a dignified manner, a sexy one, but the moan starts deep in my gut and crawls its way out as every inch of me shudders. Tears sting at my eyes and I can’t breathe, not when I’m screaming fuuuuuuuuccccckkkk. He pulls out and tugs me to the edge of the bed. My knees are too weak to hold me up. I’m a rag doll that can only lean into his legs for support.

“Hayley,” he says my name through gritted teeth.

I look up at him. He says my name again, this time with affection wrapped around each syllable. “I want to come on your face.”

I push myself up and close my hand on his cock. He throws his head back, his Adam’s apple working up and down. I take the condom off, still jerking him off. He’s hot and hard in my hand. I lick my lips then purse them, rubbing the tip of him against my mouth.

His groan rumbles through the both of us then his come is a hot, wet brand against my mouth and chin. It’s the dirtiest thing I’ve let a man do to me, and he’s not yet spent. I want to let him do it again. I rub his cock in the mess he made. His thighs shake and he murmurs my name again.

I look up to his face and this is the Davis I’ve never seen. He’s practically cut from stone, his face contorted from how hard he’s clenched his jaw. He’s beautiful. In this moment, he’s mine.