Maid for the Millionaire Read Online Free Page B

and was now giving into his desire. The heat that radiated from his body was powerful. His breath filled my ear as he fucked me. I moved my head for a kiss on his lips. Almost as if predicting my movement, he ran his tongue downwards towards my chest. Licking and sucking on my breasts as his penis continued to fill me. A little disappointing, but the sensations ran through my body like lighting. I couldn’t help it, my moans grew louder throughout the room.
    At some point while he was trusting from up top, he had managed to unhook the belt from my wrists. I didn’t even notice my hands falling down to the pillow until he dismounted me. In my chest my heart was pounding wildly. The room already reeked of sex. Looking at Mr. Carawell, his eyes wandered over every last inch of my ruffled uniform. I ran my fingertips over his chest, glistening with the sweat of a good fuck. My womanhood ached with the craving of his cock. Some might even say it was painful. Mr. Carawell knew this; the way he looked at me confirmed he enjoyed my anticipation. He loved the tease. He loved having this control over me.
    “On top. Now.”
    With a hold on my wrist I was dragged out of the bed. Mr. Carawell sat back down on the chair, myself straddling him precariously. I looked into his eyes. Eager. Yearning. Burning. From his eyes I felt far from the same. I felt pride in his eyes. Power. Desire. With his left hand he grabbed my hair in one fell clump. I buried my head in his neck and lowered myself gracefully. My skirt spilled over his legs as I impaled myself on his cock once more.
    This was a different sensation entirely. As each inch entered me my arms tensed up, wrapped around his shoulders. In my ear I felt the heat of his breath caress gently. Mr. Carawell placed his hands on my hips, yet I still controlled the pace. For now. Another few seconds and he was completely buried inside me. The room was silent except for my gentle breathing. I took my hands and placed them on his shoulders, feeling the power of his muscles under my fingertips. I began to move.
    It was slow work at first. My hips moved forward just enough to keep the angle right. I loved the feeling of my breasts pressing up against his chest through the fabric of my uniform. Then I moved backwards, touching my forehead to Mr. Carawell in the process. Feeling the exhales of our breath intermingle. On my toes I continued to rock back and forth. It was a new position for me, but the surrealness of the tryst still hadn’t turned me off. It was almost like an addiction; I just couldn’t stop. With each glance at Mr. Carawell I almost felt boredom from him. Was he used to slow sex? On that thought, I grinded faster for him. Gripping his shoulders tight, practically slamming our chests together. The pleasure I felt grew more intense and soon I was feeling the heat of the moment again. Faster. Harder. More passionately. In that moment, I felt like a sexual goddess.
    Hands roughly grabbed my hips. I paused in the moment to see Mr. Carawell staring at me. He still wasn’t satisfied. I felt him pumping up from below. There were only a few thrusts before his pace became frenzied. Filling me to the hilt, pumping at an incredible rate. There was no way I could hold in the moans that flooded the room as he fucked me silly. With each thrust Mr. Carawell moved my hips to meet his movements. I no longer felt like I was making love. I felt like he was using my body for his own pleasure. In that second, in that room, the thought turned me on immensely.
    It all happened in a blur. I buried myself in his shoulders as I felt the buildup in my womanhood. He roughly clawed at my back, tearing the uniform in certain places. The chair shook with such force I was sure it would fall over. My mind could only concentrate on the feeling of his dick continuously entering me at a frenzied pace. I couldn’t stop it.
    “I’m coming!”
    Mr. Carawell stopped thrusting. I started grinding again before he wrapped