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  Scotty sat down on the couch, beside us, as I climbed up onto Andy’s lap.

  “I’m not really sure how to do this,” I admitted, a little embarrassed.

  “Just move how it feels good for you, I can direct you from there,” he smiled. His hands ran up and down from my knees to my hips, and I wanted to kiss him. He kissed me first, still not seeming to mind the taste on my lips. I relaxed against Andy, and slowly lowered down, letting his hand guide his cock against me.

  God, his cock was thick.

  It wasn’t as long as Scotty or Leo’s, but it was definitely a bigger stretch than either of them. I felt like I’d been training up to his cock. I would have laughed at the idea, if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on lowering down onto him.

  Rocking a little bit to acclimate, I tried to get my body used to his.

  Andy was patient, kissing my chest as I sat up. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth and teasingly bit it. I gasped, and then moaned as he lavished it with his tongue. Moving a little bit more, lifting off of his lap, and then sliding back down onto him, I tried to get my body used to him.

  It wasn’t hurting, but it was still a lot of girth to acclimate to.

  Lifting off his lap again, I tried to lower down a little faster this time. The movement earned a deep moan from Andy’s lips, and the sounds was like treasure to my ears. I moved again, rising and then falling, rotating my hips. If I moved my hips just right, my clit dragged against his fuzzy pelvis, which made my whole body light up. I did it again and again, until I was starting to build a steady pace.

  The only sound in the whole room was that of my thighs slapping against his, of our bodies connecting again and again. His hands made it easier on my legs, lifting and moving me to my own tempo. I was thankful for it, and also incredibly turned on that he was willing to do all this.

  Leaning back, arching my back forward and using his legs as my support, I changed the angle. Now he was striking that spot inside of me, rubbing it on every thrust. My blood felt like it was boiling in pleasure, and I let my moans fly from my lips without pause.

  I couldn’t keep a steady pace, it felt too damn good, but he was working hard to keep us going, working hard to keep me feeling good. I could tell he was getting close, because his breath was becoming less and less steady, his thighs were shaking beneath me.

  “Andy,” I moaned his name, hoping it was what he needed. He surprised me, upping our speed and taking me harder. I gasped, moaning out, I could feel my orgasm nearing and I wasn’t even expecting to come again. The moment after he stilled inside of me, my own orgasm hit. I could feel my body sucking him dry, working his sensitive cock until we were both moaning out from the sensation.

  Leaning forward, I kissed him and then relaxed against his chest to catch my breath. Andy’s hands were soft on my hips, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs.

  “Oh my god,” I murmured, panting.

  Andy shifted, and Scotty pulled me from Andy’s lap, laying me so that my head was resting in Scotty’s lap. He brushed my hair from my face, and smiled at me.

  “You’re incredible,” he admired, and I laughed.

  Leo handed me my glass of water, and I stole a few sips before relaxing into the couch.

  This went a lot better than any frat party date could have.

  After almost twenty minutes, Leo started pulling on his pants, and Andy stood up to get dressed as well.

  “Are you three going to get in trouble for leaving your patrol for this?” I asked, suddenly worried that I’d put their jobs at risk. They’d saved me, and I’d lost track of how long I’d been there with them. Most jobs aren't okay with employees disappearing in the middle of a shift.

  “What?” Andy started, before looking down at his clothes. “Oh, the costume, haha,” he smiled as though he thought I made a joke, and then froze.

  Wait, what?

  “You thought we were actually cops?” he asked, looking at me for a moment, before glancing to Scotty.

  “Did you really think that?” Scotty asked, surprised as well.

  “I mean-” I froze, embarrassed and rethinking the whole night.

  “You didn’t just do this because you thought we were cops and you had to, right?” Leo asked, his concern showed loud and clear. I had to set things straight.

  “No! No, I mean I thought you were cops, but really I wanted to thank you because you were being so nice, the uniforms were just a bonus,” I was blushing even as the words poured out of my lips. “Seriously, you guys aren’t even cops and you helped me, thank you so much,” I added.

  “Hey, of course,” Scotty ran his fingers through my hair. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, I’ll drive you home in the morning,” he offered. The other guys started heading out, and I didn’t see any reason to say no.

  “Alright,” I agreed. Scotty kissed me softly, and distantly I wondered if this could be the start of something wonderful.

  Story 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Tara? Don’t forget my booze okay?” Merilyn Lucas drawled sleepily as her eldest daughter headed for the front door.

  Tara paused in her stride fighting down the bitter taste of anger in her throat and the urge to grab her mother by both shoulders and shake her as hard as she could until she vomited ten years’ worth of liquor.

  Her mother was the very bane of her existence! She cursed too much, drank too much, and cried too much. And when she wasn’t doing either of these things, she was making love to her dildo right there on the cushion in the living room and she never bothered that Tara was right there in the house!

  Tara’s sisters Lyn and Koyle has since kicked their mum out of their house and Tara was stuck fending for the woman because she was blessed — or cursed, depending on how you looked at it — with a soft heart which meant she couldn’t stand the idea of abandoning her mother now when she needed her the most.

  Merilyn hadn’t always been this bad, she reminded herself. Sure she had been drinking for as long as Tara could remember but she had also managed to hold down a full time job which meant she couldn’t possibly have been falling-down-drunk all of the time.

  But these days, she managed to be drunk every time Tara turned around.

  “Did you hear me?” Merilyn demanded.

  “I fucking heard you! Half the neighbors heard you!” Tara snapped, swearing uncharacteristically.

  “Well I’m sure none of the neighbors heard you coz you didn’t respond!” her mother shot back.

  Tara shut her eyes on a sigh of despair. Then forcing them open, she slammed out of the house and strode down to the sidewalk to wait for the bus.

  As she walked, tears formed in her eyes anew. Her mother had been with her a mere six months and in that time, Tara had managed to lose her job, her car and her boyfriend!

  She’d lost the job because she was constantly cleaning up after a drunk mother and kept going late until her boss couldn’t take it anymore. She’d lost the car because losing her job meant she couldn’t keep up with the loan payments. She’d lost her boyfriend because after being treated to one night of Merilyn bucking and twisting and moaning on the sofa while she fucked herself with her dildo, he had decided dysfunctional families were not really his cup of tea. He had moved out on her so fast she’d almost gotten whiplash.

  Tara wanted to hate Jamie for leaving her but she didn’t have it in her. How would she have felt if Mr Knox had suddenly whipped out his dick and proceeded to masturbate when he knew she, his son’s girlfriend, was around?

  She needed money and she needed it badly. Her rent was due in a week and for the third month in a row she didn’t have a penny to her name. Her landlady had been patient so farbut she wasn’t certain Mrs Hopkins would be patient one more time if her constant glares every time Tara walked by were anything to go by.

  A flyer landed at her feet as the bus pulled up in front of her. Tara stooped to pick it up, her pretty green eyes rounding in shock as she read the flyer: stripper wanted at a nigh
tclub! Could the fates be anymore predictable?

  With a hiss of disgust she tossed it aside. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t dance, she needed money urgently; being a stripper would mean having to learn the moves first and that would take too long. No sense breaking her spine for a few dollars. Perhaps she could wait tables somewhere instead?

  Her phone rang just then and she sighed as she picked the call. Melissa Rowan’s voice came through loud and clear over the phone lines.

  “Hey doll, are you close?”

  “I just left the house Mel,” Tara confessed. “And yes, I know that means I’m late for our date.”

  “Oh silly, it’s not a date! But the coffee is really good,” Melissa added with a throaty giggle.

  Tara’s lips curved in a sad smile. Melissa Rowan, her best friend, was everything she was not. Melissa was happy, carefree, fun, and vivacious. She was the sort of person who looked life in the eye and bent it to her own will. She had a perpetual smile with eyes that lit up like Christmas trees every time she saw someone she loved. She was also tall and willowy with endless miles of slim, straight legs and a straight mane of long blonde hair that hung down to her waist.

  Tara on the other hand had huge green eyes, short blond ringlets, pouty pink lips and legs that were unimaginatively short — to her way of thinking — and a tiny waist. She wasn’t very inspired by her figure, just like she wasn’t very inspired by a lot of things in her life these days.

  “I’ll be there soon,” she promised. “I just need to submit this application,” she said looking down at the envelope in her hands. The company was next door to the café Melissa was in.

  “Hurry,” Melissa called.

  Tara got off the bus at the next stop, her mind in a whirl. Perhaps Melissa would know about an opening. Melissa always seemed to know something about everything.

  Five minutes later, as Tara slid into her seat at Melissa’s table, Melissa announced with a wide grin, “Tara? I do believe I’ve found you a job!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I’m so sorry Ma’am, but all our openings were just recently filled,” the chirpy receptionist announced. She had cat eyes, helped along by her carefully drawn eye-liner and mascara. She filled the bustier of her blouse so generously with boobs that threatened to spill right out of her top.

  Tara held back her sigh — barely — as she handed over the newspaper Melissa had waved under her nose yesterday at lunch. “I’m not applying for a job at this company. Someone here advertised for a private maid. He gave this place as his address.”

  The receptionist barely spared the newspaper a glance. “Oh, the maid, huh?”

  Something in the suddenly sultry purr of her voice and the emphasis she laid on the words gave Tara pause. Tara cast a second glance at the advert in the newspapers that Melissa had pointed out to her. It looked pretty much the same; mysterious and surface.

  Maid wanted. Pay competitive. Demands … to be discussed.

  Or maybe the receptionist was just being snobbish about someone wanting to be a maid? Somewhat self-consciously, Tara shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

  The receptionist smirked; a look that clearly said, if that’s your story.

  “That spot’s still open honey,” the receptionist chirped.

  “Oh where do I hand in my application then?” Tara demanded eagerly.

  “No application needed. Just call the number beneath the advert,” the receptionist directed leaning over to tap the number scrawled at the bottom of the advert.

  Tara frowned, “Just a call? Strange. But I called that line severally before I walked in here and there was no response,”

  The receptionist ignored her, her gaze now firmly fixed on the screen of her PC. With a sigh, Tara turned around and left the building. Once outside, she dialed the number; this time around someone answered almost immediately.

  “Yes?” came the one-worded terse response.

  “Um, hi. I’m Tara. Tara Lucas. I saw your advert in the papers. Is— is the spot still open?”

  A hint of interest entered his husky voice “The maid?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Excellent,” he exclaimed. “Are you here?”

  “Yes, in front of the address in the papers. But your receptionist says you don’t need any more hands,” Tara said.

  A few choice expletives reached her ears over the phone and then he said shortly, “I’ll be right down.”

  The line went dead.

  Worriedly, Tara began to pace. What was he like? What was the job like?

  “Ms Lucas?”

  Tara spun around at the sound of her name and her breath caught in her throat. He was, very simply, magnificent. He was tall, at six feet two, slim with whipcord muscles and shoulders a mile wide. His silver-streaked hair was slicked back, he had perfectly chiseled features that lent an air of quiet strength to his face and his eyes were an arresting shade of turquoise; deep pools of blue that made her feel as though she could dive right into them and swim for all she was worth. He was a very fine man alright; he was middle-aged yes, but oh so incredibly hot! He was the very picture of controlled strength and intense masculinity with a definite and indefinable air of power and masculine sauce that hung about him.

  Without warning, moisture pooled in the juncture of her thighs and her nipples tingled as they peaked into hard, tiny buds beneath her bra.

  “Um, hi,” Tara ventured trying unsuccessfully to squelch the bolt of surprise that shot through at her unexpected reaction to him.

  He stretched out a hand for a quick handshake; his palms were smooth and so soft they were like velvet. “Max Loren,” he said smoothly.“You understand you’re to work as a maid and that entails cleaning, dusting and whatever else I might have in mind?”

  Whatever else he might have in mind? What could he possibly mean by that, she wondered with a frown.

  “What’s the pay? The ad only says competitive,” she pointed out instead.

  “How’s $400 an hour? My last maid took four to five hours to clean up so that’s roughly two grand per day.”

  Her heart jolted. Fucking what?

  He laughed at her stupefaction, the sound warm and husky. “I am a perfectionist. I don’t let just anyone into my home for cleaning because I’ve got lots of sensitive stuff in there; plus not everyone does it exactly how I like it. You have to sign an agreement before you start and you get to come in once a week, clean up, and leave.”

  It sounded like a dream. Could his house really be that horrible that he was willing to pay such a huge amount. A thought intruded and Tara paled as she stared up at Max with huge troubled eyes.“You don’t have illegal stuff stocked all around your house like drugs or something do you? I mean the agreement doesn’t entail buying my silence, does it?”

  Then again, why had he laid the subtle emphasis on everyone not doing it how he liked? And for that matter what was it? Why did cleaning have to sound so dirty and sinful when he talked about it in that husky timbre of his?

  Her gaze met his and she noticed how cold and blank his gaze had gone.

  He didn’t move so much as a muscle but somehow she felt his withdrawal from her. If she kept this up he would walk away and take his many dollars with him and then she would never have any hope in hell of getting her life back and getting her drunk mom out of her apartment!

  With calm deliberation, Tara wiped her face clean of all expression, careful to keep the panic off her face as she sternly composed her features.

  “I um, I’ll be there then,” she mouthed.

  One side of his lip canted in a half-smile and then with a curt nod, he strode back into the tall building behind them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “The boss wants you to wear this and get cleaning right away,” Tara was informed as soon as she walked through the gates of the mouth-gaping mansion she was supposed to clean.

  Her excitement was quickly draining away. The house was so huge it probably had about forty rooms tucked away inside of
it. How was she supposed to clean this monstrous building all by her lonesome?

  Two thousand per day was quickly starting to look small because she would have to hire ten more people at least to help out!

  “Where’s ‘the boss’” she grated.

  The guard looked her up and down carefully and then with a small leer he said, “Eager are you?”

  Tara’s teeth clenched.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The man gave her a bored look. “He should be in the den,” he tossed at her and padded away.

  Tara sulked as she held up the maid clothes she was supposed to put on. They were a careful combination of white and black ensemble with trimmings of lace here and there, topped off with a duster and a mop. She sulked. She didn’t need this.

  Slowly she strode down the corridor he had indicated. She stopped in front of a door and knocked. A guttural sound emanated from inside; she couldn’t make out the exact words, but it sure sounded like a command to come in.

  Within two seconds of opening the door, Tara realized her mistake. A pair of feminine legs, clad in lacy white stockings were splayed wide and facing the doorway. Their owner, obstructed from view by the naked male humping away between them was screaming louder and louder and ordering, “Cum inside me!!! Now!!!”

  With a flush, Tara hastily pulled the door closed and staggered away, almost falling in her haste. What sort of man fixed an appointment with a new employee and spent the morning fucking his girlfriend?

  Angrily she stomped down the same corridor she had just exited and flung the maid clothes onto a cushion as she passed, heading straight for the front door. She threw the door open, her anger carrying her along at unusual speed and she slammed straight into a taut, masculine, muscle-packed chest. The force of the contact unbalanced her and she went sprawling