The road seemed to go on forever, but finally there was a break in the trees, and the massive cabin-like estate came into view. It was even more gorgeous than the images online. In fact, I could easily picture it on one of those home and garden elite magazines that showcased rich and famous people’s dwellings.
Once my car was in park and the engine off, I sat there a moment and looked out the window. I was nervous, not because of the job, but I’d finally be meeting Finland Hawthorne for the first time. Strangely enough, there hadn’t been one clear image of him that I could find on the Internet. They were either blurry and out of focus... or there just weren’t any.
So technically, I was going in blind here. Maybe he’d be some scarred and awful man, hater of all things that brought pleasure. Maybe he’d be such a cruel bastard that I’d want to leave as soon as I met him.
How much worse could he be than some of the men I’d come across living in the city?
Well, here goes nothing.2FinWhen I placed the ad for a domestic professional online, I hadn’t been picky and had little preference and specifications on who I wanted to work for me. As long as they had some kind of experience in the field, respected my privacy, and knew what they were getting into when working for a recluse, I would’ve given them the job.
But then I’d come across her application, a brutally honest one in the most refreshing way. She had zero experience in this field of work, but was candid about it to the point it should have been deemed unprofessional and an automatic refusal of the job.
But not in my case.
My interest had been instantly piqued to the point I couldn’t ignore it. I needed to know more about her, who she was, what she liked. So I researched her, dug up as much information as I could about Catherine Monsieur.
She was a twenty-two-year-old undergrad for Social Science at Clayton Community College.
She still lived with her parents and worked at the local pub… well, up until a couple weeks ago, when she’d given her notice after accepting the position from me. She had no significant other and only surrounded herself with a small circle of close friends.
Her friends and family called her Kitty.
I had taken one look at her picture, and something in me had stirred, awakened. It was like a dormant, primal beast had felt its heart beat for the first time in its life.
It was an unexplainable, all-consuming sensation. I didn’t understand it, but I sure as fuck liked it.
And so I hired her on the spot for the simple fact that I wanted to get to know her, wanted her close.
Seeing the picture of her instantly made me want her in the most obscene, filthy ways. I’d never felt such irrefutable desire before. I hadn’t been with a woman in so long that I didn’t even know how to be tender, how to be soft and caring to the gentler sex. I was a beast, having been called “inhuman” because of my size. When people described me, they said I could snap bones like twigs in my hands.
I’d always kept myself away from others, preferring solitude because my gruff nature tended to turn people off, scared them and had them crossing the street to avoid me. I’d been without any kind of companionship for so long it was now a distant dream. But that had been fine with me. I hadn’t needed anyone but myself.
That was… until I’d seen the picture of her, and that had all changed.
But seeing her in the video monitor as she waited at the gate for me to let her in, seeing her in real life—as real as it could be at that moment—something primal and brutal awoke within me.
I sat behind my desk and watched as she drove up the driveway, the security cameras located sporadically around the property giving me every angle possible to watch her. I felt no shame or even guilt at the fact that I watched her every move. And when she pulled up to the front doors and just sat there, staring at the estate, I wondered if I’d scare her away. I did that to plenty of people.
When she climbed out, I felt absolutely zero remorse in how I devoured her body with my gaze. She wore these little cut-off shorts, ones she’d probably end up changing out of sooner rather than later because the air up here was chillier—which was a damn shame. She had legs that were toned and long, and I imagined them wrapped around my waist.
Her T-shirt was thin and white, her bra slightly visible under the light material. And her breasts... fuck, her breasts were high and a perfect handful. My fingers itched to be molded around them.