His Glorified Maid

Twenty-Seven

Michaela giggled when she found herself hurried back to his room, her heart thudding against her chest when he shut the door closed behind them.

"Strip for me, Michaela."

A shudder of anticipation tore through her at his husky demand. She eased her hands to her sides and slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head. She dropped it carelessly on the floor and then reached for her skirt and shimmied out of it. She made sure to bend forward as she did and was pleased to see his eyes drop to her breasts. She loved knowing she could distract him with her body. She straightened up again and went to remove the straps and lower the lacy red body suit.

"No. Leave it on."

She felt giddy as he closed the distance between them. His hands gripped her hips and tugged them against him.

"On the bed, sweetheart."

She laid down on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows so that she could watch him. She wanted to see him strip, wanted to touch and taste his skin almost more than she wanted to feel his touch.

He must have known what she was thinking because he shook his head as he climbed down onto the bed next to her, still fully clothed. She pouted, disappointed when he said, "I won't be rushed, sweetheart. Now lay down."

Lying on his side, with one arm propping him up, he used his free hand to run his fingers underneath the strap of her body suit, toying with it as it stretched across her breasts before he skimmed his finger along the rise to her nipple. His hand stayed there until the hardened nub tried to escape through the material, before drifting down the valley of her breast and back up to her other nipple.

He lifted himself, never breaking contact, and took her first nipple into his mouth. The sudden contact had her gasping.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart. Keep them on me."

Michaela opened her eyes and watched as he almost casually flicked his tongue across her breast and swirled her already hardened nipple, while the other continued to roll it between his fingers. The mix of rough and gentle contrasted to produce a pleasure she'd never known before. She focused on the sensations that were erupting in small tremors wherever he touched.

He pulled his lips from her while his hand continued to trace small circles down across her abdomen, then along the sides to hook under the opening of her body suit at the top of her thigh. She wanted him to touch her in her centre, craved it with a need that only he could satisfy.

"Open your legs for me."

"Yes," she said as she followed his direction. She wanted his touch there, but he had other ideas as his finger merely followed the edge of the lace between her legs instead.

"Please, Carlos," she begged. She wanted more, needed more.

His hand stopped. She bucked her hips trying to get him to move to where she wanted him the most. But he didn't. His knowing smile was infuriating.

With a sudden movement, he'd settled himself between her legs and she burned crimson at the intimate position.

"I want to taste you, sweetheart."

Oh boy. She loved the hoarseness in his voice. Despite his casual touch, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him and that made her feel powerful.

He slipped his arms under her and pulled her closer to him. He flicked his tongue over her body suit, and she felt the shocks spread right through her core. He still moved slowly, almost lazily. Did he not understand her urgency? She lowered her hands and pulled them through his hair, catching his eye. Oh, he knew. Yet he chose to maintain his torturously slow pace.