I was so unprepared, but what I hadn’t been expecting was my employer to be so fucking fine he literally made me speechless.
“Ms. Monsieur, I presume?”
I snapped my head up to look at his face, the sound of his voice slamming right into the most intimate part of my body. And by that, I meant my pussy.
My pussy clenched painfully, the inner muscles aching as if seeking something substantial to grip. Like his cock. Like his dick that I could tell was probably massive.
His voice was deep, so gruff it almost didn’t sound real. I could picture him in some medieval time. Maybe even prehistoric, a caveman, or a Viking wielding an ax, a barbarian about to chop down any foe who stood in his way.
“Mr. Hawthorne?”
He nodded slowly.
He certainly looked like a warrior, a warrior I wanted to be under while he pillaged between my thighs.
Oh my God. I was losing my damn mind for this man.
I noted, realizing several seconds had passed where I hadn’t responded. “Yes. That’s me.” Again, I felt like a fool but straightened my shoulders and continued to look him in the eye. I didn’t want to seem like I had absolutely no control over my body, but I had a strong feeling that’s exactly how I was portraying myself.
He stepped aside and pulled the door open a little bit more, a silent but universal gesture for me to enter. I stepped over the threshold and could instantly smell him. It was a spicy, woodsy aroma, expensive yet wild and free.
Again, my pussy clenched, and I embarrassingly felt how my panties became damp.
“Do you have bags in the car?”
I froze at the tone of his voice, this demand, yet I had a feeling that was just how he was, how he spoke.
I nodded and licked my lips. He glanced outside at my car then a second later back at me. He held my gaze with his own for an uncomfortable amount of time, as if he could read my thoughts, see the dirty images running through my head.
“I’ll get them then show you to your room.”
I nodded in response, but he was already outside, striding—stalking—to my car like a sleek panther moving through the jungle.
If this was how I felt upon first meeting him, I didn’t know how I’d last or control my libido working for Finland Hawthorne.
3
Fin
I allowed her to ascend the stairs first, not just because I wanted to be a gentleman, but because her ass would be right in my line of sight. Apparently, when it came to this woman, I had zero self-control.
I adjusted my stiff cock as we took the steps, not wanting her to see how I responded physically to her.
As I watched the way the perfect mounds of her bottom moved under her shorts, my cock jerked violently. Every time she lifted her leg to take the next step, I got a tiny peek of that crease where her ass met her thigh. I groaned deeply, thought I’d only done it in my head, but realized the sound had spilled from me deep and low.
I prayed like hell she hadn’t heard it, although when I saw the way her hand tightened on the banister, how her step faltered slightly, I knew.
She heard me.
That should’ve made me feel uncomfortable, made me feel shame, but the truth was, I got this sick satisfaction at the thought of her knowing how much I wanted her.
Once at the top of the stairs, I pointed in the direction for her to go down the hallway. Originally, I had her room set up on the first level. My room was on the second level.
But after I realized how much I wanted her, I knew exactly where she’d be.
In the room right next to mine… and eventually in my bed.
“This one,” I grumbled, pissed that I couldn’t control myself. Never in my life had I been unable to stifle my emotions or keep the apathetic emotions at the forefront.
But Kitty was an anomaly, one I wanted to delve deeper into.
I meant that literally and figuratively.
She stopped by the polished double oak doors and moved to the side to allow me to open them. I knew it was because she was nervous. She kept twisting her hands together in front of her, kept biting her lower lip anxiously.
I set her two bags down and saw the way she looked at me from under her lashes. I’d been surprised to see only the two bags. I assumed being relocated she’d have packed enough to fully move in.
I stepped close, my body only an inch from hers, and reached out to turn the handle. I kept my eyes locked on hers the whole time. My teeth were locked tight as I inhaled the sweetness that came from her.
Then I pushed the door open but didn’t move. “This is your room,” I said, my voice serrated. I should have moved aside to give her more space. It was a bastardly thing to do to crowd her, but I wanted her to brush up against me when she stepped inside.
And she did.
It was only the slightest of brushes, but it was there nonetheless.
It took a hell of a lot of control not to grab her nape, pull her to my chest, and lean down to claim her mouth.
“Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
It was like the very sound of her voice, the way my name rolled off her tongue, held a thousand bolts of electricity. It traveled through my entire body, lighting me up.
“Call me Fin. Or Finland. Mr. Hawthorne was my father.” I shouldn’t have said that. I should have at least tried to keep things semi-professional, even if I felt like they were anything but in my case.
But shit, I wanted her to say my name all damn day. It made me harder just knowing it slid between her lips.
I had to keep reminding myself I needed to act like I had my shit under control, be professional, and pretend I didn’t want to press her up against the wall and fuck the hell out of her.
I stifled the low growl that would’ve spilled from my mouth again and followed her into the room. No one had ever used it. In fact, no one had ever used any of these rooms on the upper floor.
I wanted Kitty close. It was an undeniable need. There was no point in even trying to fight. I didn’t want to.
She glanced around, and I could see surprise written on her expression. She was shocked by her surroundings. The room was lavish, and although I had nobody to spoil, no wife or children, no significant other that I could spend my money on, that didn’t mean I didn't enjoy the fruits of my labor.
So I built this extravagant home for just myself, decorated the rooms with high-end items, expensive decor. The works.
I spent my money on other items, other things. Charities, built organizations for victims of domestic violence, donated to food banks to feed the hungry. But even after spending my money on all these things, I still had deep pockets. So deep they were black fucking holes.
The very thought of dying and not having anyone to carry on my legacy, no descendants to leave any of this fortune to, had never made me feel depressed until right now, until I looked at Kitty and wondered if she’d be mine.
And if she would never be mine….
No, I wouldn’t even entertain that thought. I would claim her. It was an easy decision.
As easy as breathing.
4
Kitty
Mr. Hawthorne—Fin, as he asked me to call him—left me half an hour ago. He’d told me to get situated and comfortable, to “make myself at home.”
I’d unpacked, put my clothes in the dresser, and now just sat on the edge of the bed looking around. I was a little uncomfortable, if I were being honest. This room certainly didn’t feel like a place a member of the staff would stay. It was lavish, extravagant. It was opulent.