Chapter Seventeen

Day Two

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S TARING OUT AT THE impressive, landscaped driveway beyond the window, Amy didn’t know what to think. Breakfast had passed in a peculiar blur. Leonard’s food had been delectable. The chef might be creepy and unnerving, but his eggs were easily the best she’d ever tasted.

It was the corresponding list of new duties Kyle had presented her with, though, that had left her head spinning. Not only did he want her to follow up on the tasks from the prior day, but as if he’d been able to read her mind from the shower that morning, he’d added a whole raft of cleaning chores to her agenda. Watching two tiny birds singing on the well-established oak tree on the grounds, she recalled her response.

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“B UT,” SHE COUNTERED , as he’d taken her through his list one item at a time. “Cleaning a house this size is an entire job in its own right, sir. You hired me to be a housekeeper, not a cleaner.”

“I just lost my cleaner.” His smile looked well-practiced, as if he rehearsed it in the mirror. “And I was hoping you could help me until I found someone new.”

“Yes, I can help...”

“And didn’t you tell me you worked as a cleaner?” he added with an expression caught somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

She didn’t recall telling him that, but then, she supposed she could have divulged it with her backstory at the restaurant. That night was hazy in her memory.

“I don’t mind cleaning,” she’d insisted. “It’s just not what I was expecting when I signed...”

“I thought we’d established that clause seven—”

“Yes, sir,” she interrupted, not needing the clause seven lecture all over again. “I understand clause seven.” Hell, he’d used it to tremendous effect during dinner the night before. “I just wouldn’t know where to start with a property of this size.”

It transpired she’d needn’t have worried. Kyle had all the details worked out for her. She was to start in the drawing room—an immense space on the other side of the house that looked like something from a 1930s murder mystery scene—dusting the litany of shelves, mantles, and tables and then he would join her with information about the next task. That was where she found herself, dressed as his naughty maid and bewildered about how fate had unraveled in such an unexpected way.

“Fabulous.” She ran the feather duster lightly over the old-fashioned table lamp by the window. It didn’t move much dust, but she wasn’t surprised at its inefficiency. It was safe to say Amy wasn’t really putting her heart into the work. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I took his offer.”

It wasn’t as though she had a problem with cleaning, but Kyle had described the post as a housekeeping role. She hadn’t come there to clean his humongous fucking mansion—especially dressed like a stripper. That hadn’t been the deal.

“But here I am.” Her brow rose as she turned to skim the duster over the windowsill. “Just a middle-aged cleaner in a kinky maid’s outfit.”

She couldn’t decide if she felt dirty or buoyed by the conclusion. She wasn’t qualified for much other than administration and cleaning, and none of her other jobs had promised the type of salary and benefits that Kyle’s did, but she couldn’t fight the nagging sense that she was only being exploited.

“What the hell am I thinking?” The feather duster paused as she berated herself. “I must be a complete idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

She spun at the sound of his voice, narrowly avoiding knocking the no-doubt expensive lamp from the side table.

“You’re a lot more than only a middle-aged cleaner, little girl.” The stern expression on his face sent her pulse flying.

“Mr. Kyle.” She sensed her face reddening as he leaned casually against the door, his arms folded. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” He cocked an eyebrow as though she should have known better, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, dread began to knot. “You’re unhappy with your new responsibilities?”

“Not unhappy, sir.” Shit. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her or the way his interruption seemed to have clouded her thoughts in an instant. “Just surprised.”

“Your words suggest disillusionment rather than surprise.” His hands lowered to his pockets, his stare continuing to drill into her.

“No, I...” She faltered, unsure how to smooth over the rather large hole she’d inadvertently managed to dig. Perhaps she should have better communicated her feelings to him about the new ‘role’ at breakfast, but she hadn’t intended for him to overhear her whining self-mutterings.

I hope he doesn’t think less of me as either his employee or... something more.

Something more? She admonished herself mentally as he waited for her explanation. As if he’d be interested in that. The sex was good. That’s all. There was no promise of anything more.

“I’m sorry.” Her lowering gaze was a painful reminder of her skimpy attire. “I didn’t mean for you to hear the things I said, sir.”

“Evidently.” Straightening, he walked nonchalantly in her direction.

“Have I upset you?” she definitely didn’t like his clenching jaw or the determined look that seemed to have set into his dark blue eyes.

He came to stand beside her, gazing out at the same picturesque view she’d enjoyed.

“Do you like my house, Amy?”

“Yes, sir.” How could he even ask? “It’s beautiful.”

“And you are happy to clean for me... for now, at least.” His focus fell to her, those plunging pools of his eyes daring her to defy him.

“Yes.” She wouldn’t exactly say she was happy, but she didn’t want to risk the potential rewards of working for Kyle over something as silly as him overhearing her complaints.

“Hmmm.” He turned back to the vast bay window, and it was a moment until he spoke again, time when all Amy could do was grip the end of the feather duster and silently curse her mistake.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He said he’d be along to join me. I should have kept my mouth closed.

“Please.” In the end, she broke the edgy hush, anxious to limit whatever damage she’d caused. “I’ll do an excellent job for you, and I won’t complain again.”

“You won’t.”

It sounded less like a question than she was comfortable with, but given how much she suddenly felt on the back foot, she responded anyway.

“I won’t, sir.”

“Good.” He nodded. “But it seems perhaps you’ll need supervision.” His tempting eyebrow arched again. “I had thought I could get on with other tasks, but... it’s better, I think that I stay while you adjust.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know how to feel about that. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Amy wasn’t averse to Kyle’s scrutiny, having experienced it intensely the prior night, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another meaning to what he was saying—something he wasn’t yet sharing with her.

With Kyle, there always seemed to be a bombshell.

“Best you get on then.” He gestured to the opposite side of the room. “There’s a dresser of family antiques there, all of which need to be properly dusted. Is there anything else you’ll need to help you manage?”

She looked down at the box of equipment she’d already been given, noting the cloth and can of polish. “No, sir. I can manage.”

“Go on then.” He sighed theatrically and walked the short distance to one of the high-backed chairs. “I’ll be right here, watching.”

He sank into the seat like a king, his gaze knowing as it met hers. A shot of electricity raced along her spine as their eyes locked. He held the connection just long enough to convey his true feelings—he wasn’t truly angry with her, but he was going to make her pay, anyway.

Desire pooled at the prospect, her clit tingling as though he’d just promised her pleasure.

“Before you begin, one more thing.” His hand reached for the nearby table and collected a pair of dark-rimmed glasses.

“Yes, sir?”

Time protracted as he slid the frames over his nose.

“You’ll lower the top of your dress again.” He watched her over the rims the way an austere headmaster might have done, the gesture liquifying her already stimulated sex. “I want to see those wonderful tits while you work.”

If she hadn’t been blushing earlier, then she absolutely was as he tapped his digits on the table, indicating his impatience at her delay.

“Yes.” Her breaths were labored as she lowered the top of the dress to expose her breasts. Already puckered at the cool air of the drawing room, her nipples tightened into painful buds as soon as his gaze fell on them. “Better, sir?”

A distant, easily subdued facet of the woman she’d once been—the one who worked nights as a cleaner and worried about paying the bills—balked at how simply she’d ceded and stripped again. She was more than this, wasn’t she? She had more backbone?

But that other, louder and more submissive part of her personality overruled the voice. She had backbone, yes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t follow his orders and revel in the simplicity of it all. He commanded, and she complied. He led, and she followed—there was a wonderful ease about it all. He had caught her complaining when she should have been working. She probably deserved more of a dressing down than he’d delivered, and even better, the heat at her sex said she was going to bloody love whatever came next.

“Much better.” The edges of his mouth twitched. “You’re delightful, but so is my glassware. Be very careful with them, please.”

“Yes, sir.” She leapt to attention, dropping the feather duster and lowering to collect the new items she’d need. Eying the extensive range of figurines and glasses, apprehension tightened in her throat. He had enough in there to keep her busy for hours. “You have a lovely collection, sir.”

“Thank you.” His answer was immediate, so fast, in fact, that instinctively, she twisted to see him as he continued. “But I’d prefer you concentrate on the task in hand, so...” Lifting his index finger to his lips, he gestured for her to be quiet. “I’ll have silence, please.”

“Right,” she mumbled, turning back to the cabinet.

Catching sight of her reflection in the glass door, she noticed the fresh heat collecting on her cheeks. Strange that she should be so caught off-guard by a straightforward request for silence when she was seemingly so content with the one that instructed her to clean while she was topless. Her brow creased at the disrobing realization. She’d yielded so easily that displaying her body for him already seemed relatively normal, but being hushed for complimenting his possessions still jarred.

He’s making me pay, that’s all.

The thought was reassuring as she persevered. Taking out each piece, one at a time, she freed the glass and pottery from the layers of dust that clung to them. She handled each item with the care he’d asked for, knowing each was probably worth a small fortune but also that he was observing her from across the room. It was only when she spotted an award—a wooden shield adorned with a gold metal plate—that she temporarily forgot Kyle’s rule.

“Oh, you won the debating award!” She could easily envision Kyle taking control of a narrative and ramming his point home. As it was, she could all too easily remember how good it was when he rammed his hard shaft inside her. “Well done, sir.”

“Little girl.” His curt tone halted her words, and she spun to see him already on his feet, his headmaster specs abandoned back on the table. “What did I tell you?”

“Erm...” A delicious wave of alarm drenched her. Her error was immediately obvious, but the frenzied excitement in her belly said she couldn’t wait to see what he was going to do about it. “You want silence, sir.”

“So, you were listening.” His tone was approving.

“Yes,” she implored him.

“In which case, I can only assume you’re intentionally disobeying me.”

“No, sir.” She shook her head. “I was quiet. Only I saw the award you won, and I—”

“I do appreciate your endorsement, Amy.” His gaze traveled momentarily to the shield. “I am an exemplary debater, but now is not the time.”

“No.” There never seemed to be ‘a time’ where Kyle was concerned, but she supposed since he set the tone, he could control the clock, too. “I apologize.”

“No need.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something long and black. “I have the remedy.”

He dangled what looked like a strap from between his fingers, permitting her time to look at the thing. It was indeed a long leather strap, but in the middle was something she’d never seen before. A large, black, circular ring of what looked like rubber was secured in the middle of the strap, and when he held it aloft, she had the distinct impression she’d learn to loathe that ring.

“Do you know what this is?”

“No, sir.” Her tightening throat guessed it was nothing good.

“It helps with situations such as these,” he explained, tightening the straps between his hands so the black rubber sprang to attention.

“I...” Her attention flitted from the ring to his face. “I don’t understand.”

“It remedies mouths that cannot be quiet.” He smiled as he neared, circling her frozen body as he went on. “It’s not cruel, not designed to cause harm, only to remind the wearer that silence is required. I think it will help you in this endeavor.”

“Wearer?” Slowly, she put the pieces together in her head, as though it was a torturous jigsaw puzzle. “Do you mean me?”

“I do.” His voice was unnervingly calm. “It won’t be tight, don’t worry.”

“I’m not wearing that.” She was already backing away, accidentally bumping into the corner of the enormous burgundy, leather-studded sofa nearby. She cringed at the way her breasts jiggled at the impact, knowing he wouldn’t have missed such an unfortunate display. “I don’t need to be gagged.”

“Come on now.” He never moved a muscle. No doubt, he realized giving chase would only inspire her to run, and perhaps the importance of the items she’d left out to be dusted were too valuable to risk the pursuit. “We both know that you do, and furthermore, I’d wager you’ll enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” She spat the words as though he was insane. “Who would enjoy being gagged?”

His smile was predatory. “The type of little girl who might enjoy being exposed on command, or maybe the sort of lady who comes while she’s bound and riding my cock?”

Amy straightened as he listed the things she most certainly had enjoyed. “That was d-different.” She heaved in air, aware she was no longer trying to get away. Backed against the edge of the dresser, she could have bolted for the door, but bizarrely, she realized she didn’t want to. Whatever the experiment with the gag was, a part of her wanted to explore it. “That wasn’t like this.”

“Relax.” He took one long stride toward her, lifting his free hand and stroking her heated cheek. “You know I won’t harm you.”

She didn’t know anything of the sort.

“I only want to help you focus, and this,”—he lifted the gag to her head height—“will help you.”

Quickly, she eyed the rubber again, scarcely believing what she was about to say. “I’ve never worn anything like that.”

For good fucking reason! No sane person does this sort of stuff!

“Like the dress?” He nodded to her outfit. “And I bet you’ve never been topless while you’ve worked either, but as it turns out, you’re rather good at it, Amy, and you like it, don’t you?”

Her brow furrowed as the enormity of the accusation settled on her.

“Don’t you?” he probed.

“Yes,” she admitted eventually. “But I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t want to enjoy this, either, little girl.” He swung the gag in front of her. “But I know you will.”