3

Joel winks before patting his zipper and leaving the cleaning closet—and leaving me behind, sitting in the darkness.

I’m frustrated, my body craving a release it won’t get. Sure, I could finish myself off here, but the appeal is gone. Orgasming with a partner in a dark closet is hot. Orgasming alone in a dark closet is creepy.

I can’t keep doing this with Joel. This isn’t healthy, is it? I wish I had a girlfriend to talk things over with. But right now, Joel’s my only friend.

I’m left hollow at the thought that things have to end with him. Tears gather in my eyes, but I impatiently wipe them away. There’s no time for this. I have a job to do…for as long as I have a job, anyway.

As I’m straightening my clothes and standing up, the cleaning closet door opens. Maybe Joel dropped his wallet or something.

“Joel,” I say while I look toward the door.

The fluorescent lights blaze on, and I gasp.

I’m not looking at Joel.

I’m looking at his father.

Ella

I’ve just finished giving head to Joel Tyler in a cleaning supply closet while fantasizing about his dad.

And now his dad is here.

Fluorescent lights usually wash out a person’s appearance, but they do nothing to diminish Mr. Tyler’s hulking form or his deep, blue-gray scowl.

In short, he’s sexy as fuck.

He’s wearing that severe frown of his that both scares and excites me. I’m ready to forget what little propriety I can claim after blowing his son in the supply closet and drop to my knees again.

His gaze quickly scans my body, lingering at said knees. I look down and notice they’re red from kneeling on the linoleum floor. Shit.

“Just, um, looking for a spare vacuum part,” I say, gesturing uselessly at the low shelves in front of me.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice a rumble, those piercing eyes darkening like a storm is coming.

“I’m good,” I say.

“You’ve been crying.”

I touch my cheek and feel the wetness of a spent tear. “It’s nothing. I’m just…really upset about not finding the vacuum hose.”

He looks like he wants to challenge me, and his mouth even opens to speak, but then he closes it again and nods.

With a brittle smile, I ask, “Do you need something?”

“No. I thought I heard…nothing.” He shakes his head, clenches his fist. “You’ll tell me if you need help with anything. Anything at all.”

It isn’t a request, but a command, and damn if my panties don’t get even wetter. I try not to think about the fantasy I’d been enjoying a few minutes ago, of him bending me over, spanking me, fucking me.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. “Thank you, Mr. Tyler.”

“You work here,” he growls. “You’re under my protection.”

I nod, keeping my smile firmly in place, and I hang onto the metal post of the shelving unit. If I let go, I might fling myself at the man and beg him to help me scale the pinnacle his son wouldn’t help me reach.

“Thank you again, Mr. Tyler,” I say. “I’d better get back to work. I think I can manage without the vacuum hose.”

I start toward the door on shaking legs.

Mr. Tyler doesn’t budge, but he doesn’t take up the doorframe or anything rude like that. He simply waits like a sentinel until I slip past him.

And then I’m back to dusting, vacuuming, and emptying wastebaskets and shredder bins.

My interlude with Joel is forgotten.

My brief interaction with his father? I can’t forget that at all.

Kingston

I’m going to kill my son. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing, fucking around with a maid—an employee. HR is going to come down on him hard when they find out.

It’s not the first time, either.

And that maid…fuck. I can hardly blame my son for wanting her, because I want her, too. Her brown curls can barely be contained by the bun she wears them in while working. She has freckles scattered over her nose, which I hadn’t noticed until tonight, until the harsh fluorescent lights lit every detail for me. Her ugly dress did nothing to hide her curves, and the spark of vulnerability mixed with lust in her brown eyes when she saw me? Fucking perfection.

She called me Mr. Tyler. She called me sir.

She smelled aroused, and she looked interested. It was all I could do to remain still as she walked past me to leave the closet. I was afraid if I moved, I’d grab her and kiss her first, ask consent later. And that isn’t how I do things.

Consent comes first, followed swiftly by satisfaction for all parties involved.

There might be a little pain thrown into the mix, a little domination.

But everyone ends the night satisfied.

An ugly, jealous thought intrudes on my mind: did Joel satisfy that maid?

I return to my office and switch off the overhead lights. This late in the evening, it’s nicer to just have on the desk lamp and my computer monitor. I’ll go home soon; after so many years as a CEO, I’ve been trying to learn work-life balance. It isn’t easy, but I’m working on it.

If only, when I go home to my empty house, I wasn’t so conscious of the fact it’s empty. Joel’s mother left years ago, trading up to marry a multi-billionaire as soon as Joel graduated high school. Since then, it’s only been me in the penthouse. My buddy Sebastian stops by occasionally, but mostly to drag me out for drinks so we can look for a woman to entertain together.

The routine’s getting boring, though. I’m starting to want something lasting, and I get the feeling Sebastian might feel the same, because he barely complained when I said I wanted to skip the club last night. I wonder if things will change.