Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Here she is,” I say, inviting Ava onto the stool beside me. “Cathy, this is Ava, love of my life.” Poor thing looks so embarrassed as she comes over, her hands twiddling, her moves awkward. I reach for the jug of juice and pour some for her. She won’t be lifting a finger today. “I like your dress.” Hate it. “Too short but excellent access. It can stay.” For that reason alone. I smile when she glares at me in disbelief, then laugh when she boots me under the island.
“Ava,” Cathy coos, taking in my girl, probably thinking how different she looks without a scowl fixed to her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I don’t miss the quick glance Cathy points my way. Approval. But also disapproval. I can only imagine that disapproval will grow the fonder she grows of Ava, which is a dead cert. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“You too, Cathy.” Ava glances at me, smiling nervously. “I would love some breakfast, thank you.”
“What would you like?” I don’t know why Cathy’s asking. She’s half made it after I told her what Ava’s favorite is. Is this all part of her lady of the house philosophy?
“I’ll have the same as Jesse, please.” Ava collects her juice, looking over the glass at me as she sips. My smile is unstoppable. I’ve never seen her looking so awkward.
Ava clearly doesn’t appreciate my amusement at watching her squirm. Her hand appears in my lap and disappears past the seam of my lounge pants, and I cough, my eyes on Cathy, who’s happily preparing Ava’s breakfast. Fuck. She seizes my dick, making me jerk, my knee lifting instinctively, hitting the underside of the countertop. I curse, inhaling, sucking my mouthful of bagel back. It hits the back of my throat, making me choke. My eyes water; I can’t breathe. What the fuck is she doing?
I suddenly have a glass of water in my hand, and I take it gratefully, supping it back as Ava, the wicked thing, starts stroking my hardening cock. No. Not in front of my lovely, wholesome housekeeper. That’s a step too far, even for me.
“You okay?” she asks casually,
“Fine,” I squeak. She’s getting it. Hard.
My bagel falls from my grasp, I place the water down, and look at the love of my life who seems to have a warped compulsion to send me round the bend. Breathe. Breathe. I bite down on my lip, starting to sweat as she rolls the tip of her thumb over the crown, looking smug. So fucking smug.
“Good?” she asks quietly, peeking at me. She’s a secret sadist. I puff out my cheeks, planning all the ways I’ll get my revenge. But for now? I’ll enjoy this addictive torture until I can no longer remain quiet. Then I’ll drag her upstairs and fuck her until she begs me to stop.
“There you are, Ava.” Cathy presents Ava with her breakfast, she drops my dick, leaving me hard and helpless, and finishes me off by licking what she’s collected from my weeping hard-on.
Is she for real?
“Thanks, Cathy.” Ava smiles, collects her breakfast, and sinks her teeth in happily, humming her approval, telling Cathy how amazing it is. Oh no. She does not get to do that.
I’ll get her upstairs. Gag her.
Ava peeks at me. I hope she sees the disapproval on my face. The disgust. I nod toward the kitchen door, a silent order. “Upstairs, now.” I negotiate my strung body up from the stool, looking down at the massive, tented piece of material. “Thanks for breakfast, Cathy. I’m going for a shower.” I tilt my head, and Ava nods, watching me shuffle away, trying to hide said tent.
“You’re welcome, boy,” Cathy sings from the dishwasher, not looking up. Thank God. “Can we go through what you would like me to do today? I’m all out of sync, and I can see that you have done absolutely zero, except break doors and make holes in walls.” I see her rising, and I quickly swing away from her before I scar her for life.
“Ava can sort that out with you as soon as she’s helped me with something upstairs,” I call, rounding the corner and racing up to the bedroom, pulling my lounge pants down as I go. I look down at my cock. It’s crying. Literally. “Come on, baby,” I say, holding it, applying pressure, trying to stem the incessant throbs. I pace in circles, glancing around, planning my moves. She’s dressed. What a waste. But it does mean I get to destroy another non-existent dress.
I look at the door, listening for the sound of her footsteps. Creep closer, listen harder. Nothing. What the hell is taking her so long? My dick twitches as I open the door and peek round. No Ava. “For fuck’s sake.” I tread to the top of the stairs, my hand still over my groin protectively, and listen. Talking. They’re chit-chatting. How lovely.