Sleeping With the Help (Toyboy Lover)

SLEEPING
 

WITH

THE HELP

by Ava Rush

 

Other books by this author:

Crazed: A New Adult Romantic Suspense
 

SLEEPING WITH THE HELP

Copyright
© 2013 Ava Rush

Published by JAF Publications

The moral right of Ava Rush to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanic, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Title

Copyright
 

Sleeping With the Help
 

Sleeping With the Help
 

T
his was the second time that Rod Bentley's generously sized manhood had startled me with its presence. The first had been in my office; and now, in the living room of my home. As he stood completely naked in the middle of the room, hard-on throbbing, pointed in my direction, and a broad smile beneath his bushy, graying mustache, I didn't know whether to hand him the glass of champagne I'd poured or put it down and go to him immediately.

“You've earned this,” he said. He peered down at his cock, then back up at me, his smile widening. “All of it.”

“I'd be content with you paying what you owe me for getting you out of yet another bind,” I teased. I decided that putting the champagne down was the best option, seeing as he had other things on his mind to devour.

He took a confident stroll towards me, pulling me close to him with one strong arm. I felt the wooden imprint of his manhood against my abdomen. My body brushed against the gray-brown patch of hair on his bare chest, which blanketed his chiseled abs. It still surprised me how a man of fifty could be in such great shape; he could give guys half his age a run for their money. Literally. As one of the richest men in Virginia he beat out competition from all directions, and was good-looking to boot. Six foot one and bald (by choice), he was the only bald guy I'd ever found attractive enough to invite into my bed; into my panties. He was the only guy who could really pull off the look.

“You know I always pay up, doll. I'd be a fool not to pay my attorney now, wouldn't I? Especially when she makes me this hard.”

“This is highly unprofessional, and unethical,” I said, though more to myself than to him. My words lacked real feeling. I wasn't going to deny myself a bit of fun after months of hard work. He was right; I had earned this.

“You smell good enough to eat.” He buried his head in my neck, pushing my long, chestnut hair off my shoulder, and I felt his tongue dance across my flesh, forcing my eyes to flicker shut. “What's the scent?”

“Elegance,” I murmured, growing wet as he held me tighter, closer, his cock digging further into me.

He looked at me with a wicked grin, and slowly, without looking, undid the buttons on my blouse. “You'll be anything but elegant when I'm screwing you.”

I knew it was a promise, and it sent a shiver of excitement down my body, causing goosebumps to spread all over my skin.

He pulled away my shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and reached round to undo the hook of my bra. That too fell to my feet. He took one of my breasts in his mouth, gently sucking on my nipple, and lightly grazing his teeth against the sensitive area. As I threw back my head his hand disappeared beneath my skirt, and before I knew it he was sliding my panties down. I helped him out as best I could, just about able to find the strength, still overcome with ecstasy from his assault on my nipple.

With my panties now around my ankles, he led me
inelegantly
towards the back of my couch, before bending me over it. I gripped onto the top, my nails digging into the leather as he lifted my pencil skirt up to my waist. He reached his hand around to my chest and massaged my breasts, his fingers working my nipples, his touch getting more aggressive as the seconds rolled on.

So distracted with the assault on my breasts and the pleasure shooting through me, I was off my guard when he finally entered me from behind, driving his throbbing member into me. I let out a startled cry, as I had done the first time we'd done this, only truly able to appreciate his girth once he was inside me.

His thrusts came quick and rough, every now and then forcing a grunt from his lips, whilst consistently making me moan and shoot off the requisite “oh God, yes!”. My hold on the couch was so strong now I thought I'd tear the fabric.

“How elegant are you now?” he groaned, slamming his member against the wall of my hole. One of his hands clutched my butt firmly.

I knew I didn't look elegant or lady-like bent over the back of my couch like a hooker, but he felt so good inside me that I didn't care how I looked. My perfume should have been called Desperate!

As he neared his climax, his plunges sped up, and my whole body jerked as he took his final stab. He exploded, and collapsed on my back, his breath heavy on my flesh.

“I should get into trouble more often, so you can keep saving me,” he said breathlessly, moments later.

I laughed. “You do that. Your trouble keeps me in expensive suits.”

Someone tapped the living room door. And then, “Miss Victoria, sorry to bother you. I'm leaving now.” A woman's voice, timid, apologetic and heavily accented.

“Okay, Lupita. See you tomorrow,” I called back, my voice heavy with post-sex breathlessness.

“Your maid?” Rod asked, finally pulling out of me and helping me up.

“Yep. I don't know what I'd do without her. She goes above and beyond.”

“Next time tell her to join us. I don't think I've boned a maid before.” He thought about it, then continued, 'Women who've dressed as maids, but not a real one.”

“Well, I don't sleep with the help, so that's not going to happen,” I said adamantly. That had always been my motto, and I wasn't about to deviate from it.  

With both hands fastening my platinum and jade studded earrings, I bent down in front of the coffee table in the living room, peering into the darkness to find the right foot of my Louis Vuitton heels. This seemed to be the way I started every morning court appearance, rushing about searching for discarded items of clothing and trying to do a million things at once. Other people's lateness pissed me off to no end – I'd fired a couple of people over it – but I'd never managed to curb my own. The ultimate hypocrite!

My cell phone buzzed on the table.

“Talk fast – I'm going to be late for my court appearance. Judge Rickards is already on my ass for last week; I don't want to give him something else to penalize me for.”

“Just calling to remind you to bring the Montana v Winchester Homes case file.” The voice of Jake – my assistant – as on edge as I was, traveled down the line. 'Though you probably didn't need reminding.' He chuckled nervously, boyishly, sounding every bit the pimply, nerdy Ivy-Leaguer that he was.

“No, I didn't need reminding,” I said quickly, slipping on my newly located shoe, phone held to my ear with my shoulder. I made a mental note to run into the study and retrieve the file... which I
had
forgotten.

I heard the front door close, then Lupita popped her head around the corner, a huge bunch of white lilies occupying both hands. I noticed immediately that her normal honey colored complexion had turned a shade similar to the flowers she had in her hands. She looked sickly, though she continued to smile as she handed me the bunch.

“I've also been told to remind you that there's a partners meeting at three this afternoon,” my assistant continued. “They don't want you to miss it like you usually do.”

I took the flowers from the maid and read the card, not paying much attention to the conversation.

The only things as beautiful as you. Paul x.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, shocked by how cheesy the note was. I felt like sending him a fossil with the note,
The only thing as old as you. Victoria.
But although I was known as the Steel Woman in the industry, I didn't go around insulting people, especially people as powerful as Paul. He'd been trying to poach me for two years, trying to get me to join his law firm. If he hadn't been so sleazy I might have really considered it. But he was approaching seventy and in his old age he'd apparently forgotten how to be respectful.
 

“You want me to put them in a vase, Miss Victoria?” Lupita asked, little droplets of sweat dripping down her forehead. It couldn't have been any more than 50 degrees – she must have been the only person in the city sweating.

“No, the trash is fine,” I said, handing them back to her.

As she took them from me I hung up, cutting my assistant off mid sentence. And then I heard a thud in the hallway. When I rushed out I found Lupita lying on the floor, motionless.

“Overruled! Now move on, Miss Nash!” The booming voice of Judge Rickards echoed through the courtroom, as he repeated the command for the third time to my insistent objection, his face red with anger, his icy blue eyes narrowed at me. I was beginning to think that was the only word in his vocabulary when it came to me. Talk about biased. He was still sore about me causing the jury to laugh at him in my cross examination the week before.

I slumped in my chair and called him a dick-less asshole under my breath before laughing behind my hand at that imagery, then stopping when I realized how unprofessional I looked.

He called a fifteen minute recess a few minutes later, which no one requested. Everyone knew he wanted to spend that time in his chamber throwing back his bottle of forty-year-old single malt whiskey, if the rumors were anything to go by. Thankful for the break I rushed out of the courtroom and found a quiet corner to make a call.

“Hi. I'm calling to check on a patient. She came into A&E this morning. Name's Lupita, erm... Morales. No, Montez. Lupita Montez.”

After a moment the nurse said, “Obviously we can't give out any medical information. But I can tell you that she's conscious.”

“Is anyone with her? Family, friends?”

“Her son and daughter are here.”

After thanking the nurse, I hung up feeling like a complete shit, despising myself more than I did Judge Rickards. Lupita had been my maid for two years and I didn't even know she had children.

Navigating my way through hospitals was right up there in difficulty with passing the bar. My directional skills were crap, and the signs were confusing.

"You're really going to miss the partners meeting to go see your maid in the hospital? Why?" Jake had asked, once court was adjourned. He looked at me as if to say, "The Steel Woman doesn't do things like that. She doesn't care about anyone."

So I gave him an answer that I knew he would have found satisfactory, and very like me. I said, with my most blas
é
shrug, "I really hate those meetings." He probably wouldn't have believed me if I'd been straight with him, telling him that I actually cared about Lupita. And it certainly wouldn't have done anything for my hardass image.

Wandering through the disinfectant scented corridors, trying my hardest to ignore all the sick people around me, I turned onto a ward, crashing through the double doors, and immediately wished I hadn't. Several beds were lined up side by side, so close together I couldn't imagine how the staff had gotten the patients in. Crammed together like the hospital wanted to see how many patients it could squeeze in. And right at the end of the row lay a sheet-white Lupita, oxygen mask over her face.