His Young Maid: A Forbidden Boss Age Gap Romance Daisy Jane (love letters to the dead TXT) 📖

and an oversized sweater that resembles the fur of a teddy bear, same tanned color, too. The skirt immediately makes my cock stir and that twist in my stomach grows tighter, too.

“When you’re ready to tell me about Nolan,” I say, following the curl of the hill leading to my home. When I’d had the place built, the hill seemed like a good method to keep people away, let me sulk in peace. But now that I actually had someone that I wanted to be home with, it felt like a barrier to happiness.

She sighed heavily, but nodded and I parked my car outside of my garage, reaching over to hold her hand with mine.

“It’s a bit ironic but its your fault,” her lips curled, a soft smile there, teasing. “I was thinking about you, actually, and I put my hand on the doorknob to the master bedroom. I didn’t turn it, or open it but he – Ted Nolan - was coming out as I did. I guess he thought I was trying to walk in on him or something. He said I should follow the rules if I want my job,” the words set fire to me as she spoke them, imagining Ted Nolan’s fat fucking fingers, greasy and immoral, itching to touch her and wrap his round gut around her smooth curves, pressuring her to do it. Acid formed a thick wad in my throat and I had to swallow it down twice.

“Anyway,” she said slowly, her eyes focused in on mine, trying to parse out my feelings, see what was happening behind the understanding nod and slightly dark gaze.

“He just started getting close to me, stepping towards me. I kept stepping back and he just kept coming forward.” That fucking cowardly piece of shit, who takes advantage of a young girl like that? Okay, so she’s an adult and can handle herself but still, this shit was pretty fucked up, even for the ugliest drunk in town.

“What,” my jaw nearly comes unhinged as I attempt to control my mounting anger, nostrils threatening a flare. “What did he do then?”

“He said, um, well he did this,” she cradled her chin between her pointer finger in thumb, and tugged and tightened it with slight aggression. I let myself imagine what Nolan’s fingers looked like against her pure, sweet skin and it felt like a fucking knife slicing through my gut. My mouth tasted copper.

“Then he said, umm,” and I could see the flushness creep up her neck, as the tendons in mine tightened with pain, my jaw flexing tight. Her voice was low, her eyes staying on our hands, fingers woven together. “Do you want to go in that room and spread those sweet thighs for me? Take me inside and accept every inch of it, because I’m your boss.”

To say I was filled with a fiery rage would not do justice to how I felt. How the fuck did Ted Nolan think he was going to talk to her like that and get away with it? Because she’s a young girl? A maid? What the fuck! My hand broke free from hers and I smoothed the sides of my hair, then skated a hand down my face.

“It’s okay,” she leaned in, resting one of her hands on my knee across the cab.

It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t even fucking close to being okay. In fact, I was worried I might actually kill Nolan and never get to see Britta again.

But her hand on my thigh sent jolts of bliss through all of my nerve endings, temporarily easing the fire for revenge in my belly.

“I don’t want to stay in a guest bedroom, either,” her small hand drifted down my thigh, leaving the casual touch of my knee in the past, her fingertips curling into my leg. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Mr. Nolan just had me confused. It all just got to me,” the ends of her fingers brushed against my balls, full and heavy. “I have wanted you since the first day I came into your house.”

The confession comes as news to me, and I wonder if it was simply the house or the appeal that had her interested. I had to ask.

“Why?” admittedly, it sounded silly for me to ask. I’m a wealthy, handsome, established, mature bachelor. And yes, mature is what the agency called guys over forty, like me.

“The note by the bin, the poem, the words just kind of floated through me, settling inside me somewhere, making an appearance in my brain nearly every day. And I just wondered so much about you, and what you were going through.” Her response is mature and eloquent, and I realize she is emotionally so much older than her age. So sharp and sweet.

“Are you sad?” she asks me again, her eyes tugging at mine, wide and innocent.

I take a breath, and speak to her with all walls down.

“I had come to accept that I had been in love once and because it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t find love again. I didn’t want to believe it, but I accepted it. And then time… a lot of time passed. So much that I became a self-fulfilling prophecy, I started to wonder if I’d even know it if it were under my nose. If I’d even had it right the first time—if I’d ever had it at all.”

“Oh.” She said simply, a slight hesitation lingering in the air, Britta too scared to ask me if I thought I’d find it. She wanted to know, if it was even possible for me to be capable of love, at least. But we couldn’t go there, not yet. I’d just started building her up after an awful day. I just wanted to make her feel good, so badly.

“Why did it stick with you?” I asked, truly wondering.

She chewed the corner of her lip and nodded soulfully before responding.

“Because I had those same questions. But mine weren’t about love. They were about