At Your Service

by Alysha Ellis

  He panted breathlessly as he leaned over her, unable to contain his desire anymore. She quivered against his finger and his cock—he exploded into her and grunted his orgasm.

  “Wow,” she gasped, leaning back into him.

  His cock was still deep inside her as they stood in the bathroom, the foggy mirror now completely obscuring their reflection. He kissed his way gently up her spine to her neck, then sighed as his thoughts turned to reality. This wasn’t how the first day on the job was supposed to go.

  “That was amazing, Clarkson,” she said, and pulled away from him slowly, turning to face him. “I really don’t do this kind of thing”—she looked up and touched his face tenderly—“but then, you are so irresistible.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him fully on the lips. “Consider yourself hired.”

  Chapter Two

  Clarkson didn’t know what to think. He’d been on the job only a few hours and a good of portion of that time he had spent fucking his boss. After the surprising sex in Vi’s bathroom, she’d sent him to his quarters at the far end of the penthouse to get settled in while she had the bath he’d drawn for her. But just how was he supposed to function after their encounter? He couldn’t help but wonder if she did this with all her staff. The woman was incredibly sexy and a damn good lay. For some reason, he’d believed her when she’d looked up at him with those dewy green eyes and had said she didn’t do this kind of thing. Maybe it was those pert round breasts or the seductive curve of her hips that made him want to think what they’d just done was a special exception. Besides, she could have any man she wanted, so why would she lie about something like that? She seemed a woman in ultimate control, until that moment when she had succumbed to her emotions. He’d liked seeing that side of her, not sure whether he would see more of it or not. But if he did, he would have to quell his attraction. Fucking the boss was a no-no. This had been a one-time, mind-blowing thing, but he was a professional butler and he would do his job as he’d been trained to do.

  * * * *

  Vi soaked in the tub, still turned on by the wild impulsive sex with Clarkson. She’d surprised herself when she’d practically jumped his sexy bones before even finishing giving him the tour of the penthouse and going over his job duties. She usually was very careful about her lovers, being wary of unwanted press, not to mention a broken heart. This Clarkson could sell the whole tale to the press at a moment’s notice. But there was something about him that was different. Towelling off, she caught her reflection in the mirror, noticing the glow of a well-satisfied woman. Enough of that. She rubbed the towel briskly over her skin—she had work to do before dinner. Someone had to keep her clothing empire on track and formulate the new spring line, and she couldn’t let distractions by the new butler derail her much needed retreat to Miami. She’d try her best to forget the whole thing and let him do the job she’d hired him to do. Butler. But she sure had loved watching his face as he’d thrust into her. A quiver shot through her body as she reached for her robe.

  * * * *

  Clarkson set out the chilled bottle of Lillet on the bar tray, the crystal bucket filled with freshly chiselled ice. He carefully positioned the seltzer bottle next to the Bombay Sapphire just so, then placed the lime slivers in a silver dish. Vi had been sequestered in her office working for the past two hours and, according to the household schedule, that was her daily routine.

  He was grateful he hadn’t had to face her while he’d got his bearings on the place and tried to commandeer his self-control, which seemed to have flown out the forty-first floor window at the arrival of his unexpected attraction to his new boss.

  Ensconced in his suite in the staff quarters, he unpacked then showered and dressed in a freshly pressed suit. The suit he’d reported for duty in had wound up in a crumpled mess on Vi’s closet floor. Clarkson paused for a moment with his discarded clothes bunched up in his hands—the scent of her perfume lingered on his shirt. He held it up to his face, his cock swelling as he remembered just how sexy Vi had been looking up at him in her closet, those sensuous curves and that melting look in those bedroom eyes of hers, making him want to fuck her. And fuck her he had. He tossed the clothes into the laundry. He wasn’t sure there would be any more sex with the boss—it had been business as usual for both of them after the raw passion in her bathroom. That was probably best if he was to keep his job. After popping a couple of condoms in his suit, he grinned and patted his pocket. Just in case.

  Focusing on the job he’d been hired to do, he left his quarters and reviewed the binder that held his job description and pertinent details of the daily schedule, noting his employer usually broke from work or meeting with clients for a pre-dinner drink around five-thirty, then dined at seven-thirty. There were no guests tonight—she would be dining alone. He needed to check on Michel and see how the dinner was coming along. And he still had to find Marie, she was to set the table and as of yet he hadn’t found the infamous maid anywhere.

  “Good evening, Clarkson,” Vi said as he crossed the hallway from the living room towards the kitchen.

  “Good evening, Ms Vi.” He turned to her, unable to avoid noticing her tempting curves in the sleek white pantsuit. And the low drape of the neckline. He’d been treated to those succulent breasts only a few hours before and could still taste their sweetness and feel her arousal under him as he’d sucked each nipple.

  Tearing his gaze away, he summoned his most professional demeanour. “Cocktails are set out in the living room as instructed.”

  “Thank you, Clarkson. I hope you are finding everything okay. I mean, after the brief introduction.” She smiled broadly and he couldn’t help recollecting just how the tour had ended.

  “Of course, everything is quite clear,” he said, smoothing his suit jacket. “I trust you would like to dine in the dining room tonight?”

  “I think that would be best,” she said thoughtfully. “Too muggy out on the patio this time of year. July in Miami is over-rated.”

  “Perfect, I will have Marie serve in the dining room.”

  Vi smiled then walked into the living room. He watched her for a moment before continuing with his duties. How could they just pretend that steamy sex hadn’t happened the first hour they’d met? The bulge in his pants told him he, at least, was going to have trouble pretending. He could well imagine the trouble they could get up to in her vast penthouse, if only she would ask for more.

  Clarkson kept a watchful eye on Vi from the hall. When she sipped the last of her second Lillet while watching the evening news, he summoned Michel—it was time to serve the dinner. Marie, frantic in her crisply pressed maid’s outfit, had finally appeared ten minutes prior. She was a pleasant looking woman in her mid-fifties and had apologised profusely for her absence, citing a grandchild home sick with the flu as the reason for her disappearance. Clarkson had gathered from Vi’s brief comments that Marie was frequently absent. He would have to keep a close eye on her—his job as butler was to keep the house running smoothly.

  Marie assured him she would serve the meal as she did every night, and clear it. Then he would check on Vi after the meal was complete, to make sure everything had been to her liking. After that was done, he would be off duty for the remainder of the evening.

  Vi dined while Clarkson remained in the kitchen with Michel, pouring over the plans for the next few dinners, including important guests arriving that week. As Michel made notes on the menus, Clarkson couldn’t help but wonder if the chef and his employer had got up to the same antics that he had just a few hours ago. His cock grew hard as he remembered the scene in Vi’s bathroom, the way she’d looked at him in the foggy mirror as he’d pleasured her from behind. Oh, how he’d like a repeat performance, but this time he’d slow their frenzied pace down so he could thoroughly enjoy each second exploring her. Pushing those thoughts away, he worked with Michel on menu plans, glad to have something substantial to sink his teeth into while visions of Vi dining alone flitted through his mind.

  Marie wa
s busy clearing the dinner dishes while Michel finished plating the dessert. His attention to detail was impeccable as he wiped the edges of the plate clean and sprinkled a dusting of powdered sugar on the plate. Some dessert, Clarkson thought, a few slivers of fruit and a dollop of whipped cream on the side. That and the gym equipment must be how Vi kept so fit.

  After the course was over, Marie returned to the kitchen with the remains of Vi’s dessert—the fruit was gone, but the thick dollop of cream remained untouched.

  “Ms Vi is asking for you, Clarkson,” Marie said casually, cocking her head in the direction of the dining room as she placed the plate on the counter next to the sink.

  Michel looked at Marie and shrugged. “C’est la vie,” he said in a disappointed tone as he excused himself to retire to his quarters for the evening, leaving the coffee pot set out and ready when needed. Clarkson watched the chef as he left the kitchen, wondering if the young man wished he were the one his employer had requested in the dining room rather than the new butler.

  Marie reminded Clarkson impatiently, “She asked you to serve her coffee tonight. Suits me fine, I’m exhausted.” Marie sighed. “From cleaning this morning and then racing back from my grandchild in time to serve dinner…”

  “Yes, fine, Marie,” he said, redirecting his attention to the maid. “I’ll serve Ms Vi’s coffee. I’m on duty for another twenty minutes.”

  “Black, with a twist of lemon zest on the side,” she reminded him before excusing herself for the evening. “Oh, and Michel keeps the lemon zest in the fridge,” Marie called out as she departed.

  “Very continental,” Clarkson noted.

  Clarkson was aware of his heart pounding in his chest as he poured the piping hot coffee for Vi and placed the zest just so on the rim of her cup. She was waiting only twenty-five feet away, on the other side of the dining room door. He would be professional, that was his mantra. He eyed the clock.

  Only fifteen minutes until he was off duty. He opened the door gracefully with his hip as he carried in the tray. Vi smiled up at him. She was seated elegantly at one end of the long glass table, with its spectacular unobstructed view of the twilight lit bay many floors below. The sun was just sinking into the horizon and Vi’s reflection was duplicated in the panes of glass that stretched out across the room.

  “Good evening, Ms Vi, how was dinner?” he asked as he placed the tray on the table, careful to keep it steady despite the slight tremble in his hands.

  “Excellent, Clarkson.” Vi gazed at him appreciatively.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t like the whipped cream on your fruit plate, is that something you’d like me to have Chef omit from now on?”

  “You notice everything,” she said provocatively. “It’s just a bit rich is all, too decadent.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said, thinking it ironic that a woman who was surrounded by decadence denied herself a lowly dollop of whipped cream.

  “And how are you making out with Michel and Marie, everything under control?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” He carefully placed her coffee in front of her, catching a whiff of her perfume. Demanding pangs of desire taunted him as his eyes skimmed across her décolleté before his gaze drifted upwards. He caught his breath for a moment, she was so gorgeous. “We’re all set for tomorrow, and for your guests arriving, Ms Vi.”

  “Oh, dreadfully boring work business. I’d much rather talk about you.” Vi motioned to the chair next to her. “Have a seat, Clarkson.”

  He sat down slowly, his pulse quickening beneath his skin.

  “You look dashing in your suit, by the way,” she said, sipping her coffee before flashing that super sexy look of hers. “Ermenegildo Zegna,” she stated.

  He watched as her rosy lips brushed the rim of the cup once again, fighting his desire to slip his tongue into her mouth.

  “Clarkson, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t usually have these feelings. I am having a difficult time resisting my feelings…resisting you.” She placed the cup down and toyed with the demitasse spoon resting on her saucer then glanced up at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled, searching his.

  “I am not immune to similar feelings,” he said, clearing his throat with uncharacteristic nervousness.

  “I just don’t know what to do about it,” Vi said, sounding despondent as she looked out at the darkened bay. Sighing, she pushed her chair back and stood, leaving Clarkson at the table alone. He held his breath, wondering what she’d do next. She walked behind him and dimmed the lights of the chandelier and sconces slightly. He exhaled as she returned, standing behind his chair, running her fingers across his shoulders, one seductive stroke at a time. “One more time. I need you one more time,” she whispered. She leant down and kissed him near his ear, her hot, moist breath making him hard as she nibbled at him, sliding her hand down his chest, teasing his muscled pecs.

  “I’m still on duty, Ms Vi,” he said, looking up at her—he glanced at his watch then back at her with a mischievous smile.

  Her touch was intoxicating as she ran her hands along his arms, kneading his shoulders with her talented fingers before letting her lips trail slowly along his neck again. “But you’ll be officially off duty soon,” she whispered, blowing on his neck, continuing her trail along his jawline with her lips. “Very soon,” she said just as her lips reached his.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her as much as she seemed to want him. He pushed the chair back and stood to face her, grasping her in his arms and kissing her forcefully. She backed away for a moment and he feared he had come on too strong.

  “Of fuck, you’re hot,” she said, moving towards him. She kissed him fiercely then tenderly. He carefully undid the zipper on her pantsuit while she kept her eyes glued to him, her hands fumbling at his shirt unproductively. He slid the fabric over her delicate shoulders, admiring her round breasts nestled in her lace bra. She let out a low moan as he ran his fingertips across their fullness, teasing her by dipping into the cups. She bit into her bottom lip and looked at him as he unfastened her bra then threw it carelessly over his shoulder. She hurriedly tugged his suit jacket off then tackled his shirt buttons. He thumbed her nipples as she ripped his shirt from him. He savoured her soft lips, then trailed kisses along the silken skin of her shoulder and her graceful neck, back to her erect nipples. Vi cried out as he sucked her nub into his mouth, biting lightly, and she ran her hands frantically through his thick hair before wrapping her arms around his neck as he suckled her, his hard cock pressing against the fabric of her outfit. Lost in her caresses, he alternated between one full breast and the other, scooting her lithe body closer to the edge of the table. He let her nipple slip from his mouth as he looked at her in the dim light, her sensual curves making his cock twitch. She shimmied out of the bottom half of her pantsuit, revealing her long toned legs and her bare pussy. Tugging at his waistband, she slipped off his pants and boxers, his erection greeting her as she lowered her gaze.

  “Oh my, I think you like me as much as I like you,” she said playfully.

  “It appears so,” he said, enjoying the steady touch of her hand on his cock and the tease of her fingers as she played lightly—then more firmly—with his balls. He kissed her deeply. “Hold on.” He placed her hands around his neck. She stared up at him, her gaze molten with want as he scooped his hands under her bottom and lifted her up in his strong arms. He walked to the middle of the table and set her carefully down.

  Vi gasped as she lay back, naked on the cold glass. Clarkson stood over her, his thick cock beckoning her. He kissed her lips, then her breasts and trailed down her stomach to her navel, darting his tongue in and out playfully. She longed for his lips on her pussy. Anticipating her desires, he slipped down between her legs and gently parted her thighs. The cool air conditioning on her exposed pussy thrilled her until his hot lips melted her. She let out a low moan and wriggled as his tongue caressed her clit. The room spun out of focus as he flicked his tongue over her sensitive bud and bac
k into her again. She lifted her arms up over her head and pressed them down on the cold table, fantasising about another man holding her down while Clarkson pleasured her. It was too much for her to bear as she spiralled into orgasm, crying out his name.

  Clarkson gave her no time to recover, tasting her again, his cock pulsating against her as she trembled under his touch. She gave into the unrelenting wave of exquisite orgasm, her body wracked with the uncontrollable convulsions of climax.

  “Enjoying?” he murmured as she panted heavily.

  “Yes, but I want you inside me,” she said, grasping at his shoulders to pull herself closer to him.

  “Are you sure?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with desire.

  “I’m sure, now tell me you have a condom this time,” she said, smiling.

  “Oh, you can be quite sure I do,” he said as he rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes.

  “Just in case?” she asked with a sly grin, watching him.

  “Yes,” he said, producing a condom from his suit jacket. “Lucky I unpacked before dinner.”

  “And just happened to put them in your jacket?” She lifted her eyebrow with playful suspicion.

  “A butler is always prepared,” he said, alluding to their little joke. He rolled it over his thick shaft quickly while she lay there enjoying the show.

  “I was right, you do have a quick wit.” Vi gave him a broad smile. “I like that about you, Clarkson,” she said approvingly. “I can tell you’re a man who is used to getting what he wants.”

  “I am,” he growled. “And you look amazing.” He stared down at her nude body. “Just what I want.”