BOUGHT BY A BILLIONAIRE (18+); CHAPTER 1

It?s hot: stuffy and hot. I load my cloths and sprays into the trolley then push the trolley along the corridor to the next room. It?s an expensive hotel and normaly the air is fine but the air con isn't working properly and so my daily job of room cleaning is very uncomfortable today. I take the lift to my next room, the Penthouse, and unlock the door. It is a stunning room, bright and sunny and
when I cleaned it through the day before, smelling pleasantly of the occupant, a mixture of expensive after shave and musky male scent. The scent lingered, in stark contrast to my own air of clammy, sweat odour. I consider the owner of the after shave for a moment as I open the window to let sunshine and fresh air in. I saw him leaving a few minutes ago, so I know I am clear to go into the room. He was dressed "smart casual", an expensive jacket with loose linen shirt in the heat, but tight black jeans cut to flatter his noticeably male physique. He strode down the corridor with a bunch of beautiful red roses, a briefcase and a gleam in his eyes. Despite the briefcase, he did not look like a man with work on his mind.
The room is clean and tidy and needs almost no work. In the office, i empty a paper bin by the desk and dust the desktop. I make up the bed in the room I can access. Some of the rooms are locked. I am supposed to do everything, all the work, every time. Vacuum the carpet, clean the bathroom, dust all the surfaces, wipe the windows but the room is so clean already I think I can skimp. I decide it is good enough and go to check the bathroom. Again it is immaculate. Why am I doing this? I am hot, sticky and tired and working for minimum wage on a job I only took a few days ago to help me through my university studies. Already I hate the work, but I need the money. The shower looks so inviting. Temptation wins. I kick off my shoes and quickly unbutton my tight cut blouse. I immediately feel better as cool air washes over my sweaty, glistening breasts. Unhooking my low cut black bra, I drop it on the blouse, then unclip my hair. It is far too warm to wear my hair loose, but now, freed, it cascades, red and silky, to my waist. Wriggling out of my short skirt takes only a moment and my moist and sticky panties follow. I turn on the shower andstep into the beautiful tiled enclosure.
The water feels wonderful on my skin and hair, coursing over my arms, breast and belly, taking heat, sweat and fatigue with it. I stand stretching luxuriously in the warm stream, needles of water massaging me. There is a click and I heard the sound of a key in the lock. I freeze. Here I am, stark naked, in the shower of one of the hotel guests. Has he brought his date back to the room? Oh God! What is his girlfriend going to say when she finds a naked woman in her boyfriend's shower? Frantically I turn off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it around my naked torso to dry off as quickly as possible.
Oh God! Oh God. Oh God…. Please don?t let him come in here. The bathroom door clicks open and the guy walks in. He has his back to me but everything about him says "Pissed Off". Has something gone wrong with his date? Still with his back to me he almost rips off his jacket, hanging it up by the dressing gowns. I can see him fiddling in irritation with his tie as he slides it from around his collar and then hangs it with the jacket. He takes a couple of steps towards the mirror which has misted over from the warm shower. He pauses, apparently noticing the steam and the misting for the first time, and starts wiping the mirror with one hand. As the view clears, in the reflection he sees me standing behind him, be-towelled in his shower stall. He starts, then whips around, looking first, furious and perhaps a bit scared, but then relaxing ashe registers my complete harmlessness.
I stammer "I'm sorry. I was so hot. I'll go now...." "Oh no need to be so fast" he says, grinning. "Finish your shower. Is there er, anything you would like to tell me?" "Please don't tell anyone. I'll lose my job" He smiles. "Is that right? Yes, I suppose it wouldn't look good would it. Maid caught using guest facilities". He steps forward, s till smiling. He really is very attractive, deep blue eyes against tanned skin, and tall. "Are you going to make it worth my while not to tell anyone?"
One finger hooks itself around the top of my towel. He tilts his head to one side as he moves still closer and his other hand takes a curl of my long, wet hair, twiddling it around a finger. “Beautiful hair you have there.” he says. "I have to get back to work" I stammer. "I have other rooms to do""I'll tell the manager I had some extra cleaning for you to do - there's no hurry. I'm sure the hotel would expect you to - service - the guests first…." The finger tugs, ever so gently at my towel. It parts, then slides down to the floor. His eyes, meeting mine, smile as they follow the downwards path of the towel. I vaguely clutch at the damp cloth, but my heart isn't in it and the towel continues its journey south. "I think you owe me something" he says and the towel finger wanders downwards between my breasts. I feel I ought to be frightened, but instead, my pulse is beginning to race. He reaches back and pulls the tie from the rack. Quickly he binds my wriststogether, glancing briefly up into my eyes as he does so, for a sort of permission, and then pulling up my arms over my head, attaches my bound wrists to t he shower wall fitting. He stands back and cocks his head, admiring his handiwork. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, stretched up and tied for the perusal of a complete stranger. I am growing warm and wet. His eyes lock to mine. "And now Milady, let's see how well washed you are. Placing one hand on a breast, he starts kneading as his mouth lowers to theother, first to suckle, then nibble the nipple. His tongue circles, flicking the nipple to hardness. When he seems to feel he has a satisfactory result, his mouth and that tantalising tongue move to the other nipple, while a hand slides over mystomach, descending. I feel him outlining the curve of my waist, over my hip and belly. His fingers entwine themselves in my curls before slipping in betwee n my thighs. I can hardly contain myself. Wriggling, I hear his chuckle of approval as he feels how wet I am. His tongue circles the nipple, one finger mirroring the movement over my clit. Torn between the desire to stay still and just let it happen, or to grindmy hips around his hand, I find myself simply trembling helplessly and my thighs growing wetter and wetter, and warmer and warmer, pussy juice beginning to flow.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

BANZA BAKWAI; HAUSA BAKWAI; MYTHOLOGY