Here I am spilling my guts, and he’s watching me like he’s trying to piece together a particularly baffling puzzle. “I don’t trust you.”

“Well, you can,” I offer, shrugging. “You don’t have to—I can keep tasting your food and repeating myself until I want to die, but it’s ultimately up to you. I don’t know what you want from me,” I tell him honestly. “You want me under your roof, I’m here. You want me naked in your bed, here I am. You want me to explain last night to you again, I do.”

“It’s too easy,” he says, shaking his head, his eyes locked on mine.

“Well, maybe easy is a good thing,” I tell him, snaking a hand down his abdomen. “If fucking your maid isn’t the epitome of simple, maybe you’re doing it wrong.”

He doesn’t stop me, so I push my hand down the open front of his pants, grabbing his hard cock in my hand and stroking him. “I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me. Simple.”

“Nothing’s that simple,” he murmurs, relaxing as I caress him.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

He closes his eyes, smiling slightly. “No.”

“Then I can’t help.”

“You’re helping plenty,” he says, his head lolling back. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing and we’ll be fine.”

“And what if I do?” I tease, but I don’t stop.

“Well, then I’ll have to punish you.”

“I might like it.”

“Don’t play games with me.” His words are light enough, but there’s something in his tone… something serious. “If you’re still playing me, Meg… It won’t go well for you.”

My heart pumps a little faster at the subtle threat, but I don’t respond. Since my words don’t seem to be getting us anywhere, I decide to put my mouth to better use. I finally stop caressing him so I can push his pants down, and when I do see his cock, I am not disappointed.

“I take back what I said about you overcompensating,” I inform him.

Mateo snorts, but I don’t wait for comment, dipping my head to take his smooth, satiny tip into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around him, sucking lightly, then push down to take more of him into my mouth. It’s no small feat; he’s got more girth than I’ve encountered before, but I love the feel of him. I grip him at the base with one hand and find a good rhythm, stroking him with my hand and pleasuring him with my mouth. His hand fists in my hair, pulling, but I don’t get the impression he wants me to stop, I think he’s just holding on, guiding me. Every little noise that escapes him is encouragement, his groans spurring me on until with a hiss and a shuddering groan the salty evidence of his release fills my mouth.

Swallowing, I use my mouth to suck off any remaining mess, then I climb back up to my spot beside him.

Mateo’s arm moves around me, tugging me close. I didn’t take him for a snuggler, but I’m content to curl up in his arms and let him hold me for a few minutes.

Chapter Eight

Everything goes smoothly the rest of the week.

Well, mostly.

Although Mateo has pulled me aside for a few quick interludes, we still haven’t had sex. It’s not a problem, necessarily, but I do wonder about it. He strikes me as a man who takes what he wants, when he wants it; not a man who moves slowly.

I’m finally off on Sunday, so I spend the day with Lily, and part of the day with Isabella, too. In the main house, I’m told Isabella has a large play room, and there’s a movie theater/media room where we could watch movies, but I opt for something cozier and bring both girls and a few board games to our little area.

Lily and I share a bedroom in what’s called the servants’ quarters, but I’m more comfortable here than I probably would be in the gigantic main house. Isabella beats Lily twice at the board games, and while she accepts it the first time, she starts pouting the second. The third game is a cooperative play game with no winner, so we end on a high note and everyone happy.

After that, we snuggle up on the couch with a bag of microwave popcorn and watch Sleeping Beauty. As we’re nearing the big showdown at the end, Cherie comes in.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” she says, looking at the girls. Lily has given up on the popcorn, but Isabella is still shoving fistfuls of popcorn into her mouth, attention rapt on the movie.

“It’s okay,” I return, quietly. “What’s up?”

Somewhat apologetic, she says, “Mateo wants you to do dinner and drinks instead of me tonight.”

I’m completely unwashed at this point, so this is somewhat alarming. “Oh. Um, okay.”

“Sorry, I know it’s supposed to be your day off,” she says.

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