Wait, it WAS the hottest thing I’d ever done.
My hands roamed over my body faster. I stroked my breasts, admiring their swell under the silky fabric. I turned and lifted the skirt to check out my ass, imagining pulling it up for Cole, showing off…
Now my face was bright with arousal. I sank onto the big bed and touched myself, imagining Cole’s sleek body moving on top of me, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he planted his arms on either side of my head. His eyes would pierce mine and he’d thrust…
I came in seconds, wet heat running over my hand.
“God,” I gasped. One orgasm barely made a dent in my arousal.
I was hot and horny, and dressed like Cole’s wet dream. He better come home soon, or I’d do something to make sure the sheriff made house calls.
Like set his house on fire.
Stomping through the house, I jabbed the duster into corners blindly. Horny desperation made me scowl.
Goddamn Cole. Who was this man, that he could degrade me so thoroughly, and make me enjoy it?
My only hope for escape was to find some piece of damning information, and blackmail him. There was a locked black box under his bed, and another, smaller one in the mudroom. I was no locksmith, so couldn’t open them to find evidence of his kink. Whips, chains, floggers—even fluffy handcuffs…but there was nothing—besides the naughty maid costume. And I was wearing that, so technically I was the biggest evidence of Cole’s kink.
There was no office, but a black laptop sat on an ottoman. Not standard police issue, so it must be Cole’s personal one. I dusted around it.
His laptop tempted me. Did I really want to see a browser history full of fetish porn?
Answer: yes.
Damn thing had a password.
The front door opened and I scrambled up. How did he drive up so quietly?
He paused on the landing, his gaze sweeping around the house. Somehow, I knew he guessed what I’d been up to.
“Did you have an interesting time while I was away?”
“Yes,” I steeled my shoulders. “You were in the running for most freakishly neat man on the planet, but were disqualified because your spice cabinet isn’t alphabetized.”
“You can do that first thing tomorrow morning.” His gaze settled on his laptop.
I squirmed, realizing I hadn’t put it back where I found it. “I wanted to check my email.”
He raised a brow but said nothing as he stalked to the laptop and typed in the password. His long fingers flew over the keys. He had beautiful hands, graceful and slender. I pretended I hadn’t been staring when he turned the laptop to me.
Mollified by his trust, I went ahead and checked my email. I did snoop once he left the room to change clothes. The browser history was clear—someone had erased it recently—but there was a document saved to the desktop marked “Private.”
I opened and found a list of chores, each assigned to a day.
Cole’s hands settled on my shoulders and I jumped.
“I’d like you to stick to a schedule.”
“‘Kay,” I said, a bit breathless from his close proximity. “Bathroom, kitchen…when am I to dust the dungeon? Or do you have your other slaves clean it?”
“No dungeon. No other slaves. You’re my first.” He played with the hair on the back of my neck, and every part of me stood at attention. Especially my clitoris. It was like I hadn’t masturbated at all.
I closed the laptop. “Cole.”
“Yes?”
“When are we going to…you know?” His elegant fingers stroked my neck, sending tremors through my body. I twisted to face him. “You’re killing me here.”
