Sunday, we spent alone, Shelby helping me pack and get ready to leave on Tuesday. She knew I didn’t want to go but kept the packing and prepping lighthearted, even promising to pack some cookies in at the last minute for me. I pouted, trying for cupcakes, but she patiently explained how smashed they would be when I arrived. I managed to refrain from telling her I would happily still eat them, no doubt even lick the container clean, since I wasn’t sure how she would feel about that confession. Instead, I kissed her warmly for the cookies. Any excuse to feel her mouth underneath mine was good with me.
After the packing and organizing were done, we spent the rest of the day together and blissfully alone. We cuddled on the sofa, I chased her around the kitchen, shagging her senseless when I caught her, and generally enjoyed the day together. She made my favorite dinner, we watched Indiana Jones movies until late in the night, and I made her laugh when I pinned her on the sofa, attempting to discover her “hidden treasures” with my “mighty pickaxe.” I tried not to be too insulted by her amusement.
I ran my hand down my chest, landing on my morning wood, stroking my erection slowly. It would seem a part of me was on the go and ready. Sadly, my dick was no longer satisfied with my own hand. It wanted Shelby. Her hand, her sweet pussy, or God…her mouth. Her talented, wicked mouth.
Or even better, all three. I was sure I would never get enough of any of them. Or how I was going to do without her over the next week—OJ was not gonna be happy with my hand as her replacement.
Jesus… I needed her. Now.
I threw back the covers, intent on finding Shelby and bringing her back to bed, then fucking her until she screamed my name. I loved hearing my quiet Shelby become loud and vocal. I loved how her pussy felt, clenching and squeezing my cock as she came around me. Grabbing my sleep pants, I jogged down the stairs, confused at hearing the sound of voices. I could hear both Everett and Cassidy talking, and I grimaced. I didn’t want company this early in the morning. What the hell were they doing here? We didn’t have a meeting planned until later today. I was leaving the next day, and I wanted this final morning alone with Shelby. Glancing down, I knew I couldn’t walk into the kitchen right now either. I might scare someone.
Seriously, scar them for life.
Shelby knew what wonders my pants kept secret, but Everett might not like it and Cassidy might rethink what she was doing with him once she saw the heat I was packing.
As I neared the kitchen, I heard Shelby’s worried voice. “Liam is not going to be happy. Can we hide this?”
Shit. The other day. The paps. The yelling. The pictures of Shelby and me. They had found out who she was.
Those bloody bastards had posted pictures of her. With, no doubt, some ridiculous story to go along with them. She would be terribly upset.
That killed my erection. Fast.
I burst through the door. “What the fuck have those tossers done?”
Like a unit, three bodies turned toward me, blocking Shelby’s monitor.
“What?” I growled. “Are they saying shit about you, Beaker? I told you not to look at that crap! It’s garbage! Meaningless!”
Everett held up his hand. “Try to remember that, Liam.”
I reached for Shelby and pulled her close, wanting to offer her comfort. “It’s okay, Shelby. It’s all shit. Remember, we talked about this. We’ll ignore it.”
Her eyes were wide, and she bit her lip. But her eyes weren’t upset; they were almost mischievous. Was she trying…not to laugh?
“Let me see.”
I bent close, scanning the screen.
“MAID” FOR EACH OTHER
—SHE NEEDED THE JOB—
HE NEEDED THE COVERI frowned at the headline. I didn’t like this. Not one bit. My eyes widened as I read the article.
You better be sitting, ladies. Our sources have it that Liam Wright is now dating closer to home. His home. The mysterious Lady in Red, as she has been dubbed, is none other than his maid.I glanced over at Shelby, reaching for her hand, squeezing it in comfort.
They’d figured it out fast. Bastards.
I went back to the badly written text.
Why his maid? You would think this leading man, the heartthrob of Hollywood, could have his choice of leading ladies to squire around town on his arm, rather than the person who shines his silver. Except, the information we have received tells us that is the only thing she does shine.It seems that Peter Pan is a little too fond of those green tights.Liam Wright, romantic leading man, is playing for the other team.I read that twice.
Green tights? Playing for the other team? What other team? I looked at Shelby, scowling, but she was too busy biting her lip and not looking at me.