Coporate Maid - Chapter Two

Jalene stretched under the covers, her body still tingling from what Cole had done to her the night before. He had been so tender, kissing her through every new sensation, making sure she was comfortable while his mouth worked wonders she hadn’t known her body could feel. She bit her lip at the memory, warmth curling low in her belly.

Her eyes drifted toward the clock on her nightstand.

“Shit.”

She bolted upright. She had overslept by nearly two hours. Panic sent her flying through her routine—teeth brushed, body scrubbed in record time, uniform thrown on. She was grateful, not for the first time, that her locs took no work at all.

But when she slipped out into the hall, Damian was waiting.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, bare muscles flexing with each breath. The look he gave her was sharp enough to pierce through skin.

“What the fuck, Jalene?”

Her hands twisted in her skirt. “I—I’m sorry. I overslept.”

His teeth flashed, the light catching on his grillz as he leaned in close. “I don’t pay you to sleep, do I, Jalene?”

Her stomach clenched. The way his voice wrapped around her name made her body hum in places she didn’t want it to. She bit the inside of her lip to stop the thought of her tongue tracing those grillz, of her hand curling around the hard bicep in front of her.

Cole’s voice cut the tension, easy and bright. “Come on, Stack, leave her alone. Anyone can make a mistake. Besides, isn’t Marcus handling breakfast?”

Damian’s eyes raked down her body, snagging on her chest before he finally straightened. “Don’t do this again.” His voice was flat, final. He stalked away just as Marcus appeared, balancing a plate stacked with pancakes in one hand and a jug of orange juice in the other.

The white shirt Marcus wore clung to every ridge of muscle, the grey sweats below leaving little to the imagination. Jalene’s gaze flicked down his torso before she could stop herself. Heat pricked her skin. When she dared glance back up, his green eyes were already on her. His look was steady, sharp, unreadable. The jolt of it made her look away fast, cheeks burning.

“Hey!” Damian’s bark snapped the moment in half. He clicked his fingers in her direction. “Get your ass in the kitchen.”

Cole rolled his eyes and tugged Jalene’s hand, leading her away.

The second they were out of sight, his mouth was on her. He pressed her into the wall, his hands gripping her thighs, sliding under her dress to cup her ass. Jalene’s gasp melted into a moan as her fingers knotted in his hair. His mouth found her neck, open and hungry.

“Cole…” Her voice wavered between protest and plea. “This is exactly why I woke up late.”

He chuckled against her skin, his dimple brushing her throat. “I know. Let me apologize later.” He pressed one more kiss to her chest before pulling away. She almost groaned at the loss of his warmth.

Together they carried breakfast to the table. Jalene couldn’t help but admire Marcus’ spread, the food smelling like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. She poured juice for each of them, ending with Damian, and was about to retreat when his hand snapped around her wrist.

“Sit.” His voice left no room for question.

“I’ll just make myself—”

Her words cut off with a startled gasp as he yanked her down into the chair beside him. He leaned close, eyes hard. “When I tell you to sit, you sit. Eat.”

Her fork trembled faintly as she obeyed. Across the table, Marcus’ eyes flicked toward her again, brief and scorching. The heat pooled in her belly until she had to look down, chewing fast to hide her shaking breath.

The clatter of dishes was loud in the silence of the kitchen. Jalene’s hands scrubbed harder than they needed to, suds dripping down her wrists, when Damian strolled in and set his cup down with a careless clink.

“I’m having a pool party today.” His tone was casual, dismissive. “Caterers are coming, so you’re off duty.”

Relief loosened her shoulders for half a second.

“You got a bathing suit?”

Her stomach dropped. She shook her head.

“I’m pretty sure you can talk.”

“No.” She bit out.

“I’ll get you something,” he said simply. “You’ll join the party.”

He left before she could answer. The rag slipped from her fingers. A sharp laugh escaped her throat, bitter and disbelieving. The audacity—deciding on her behalf.

She had just finished using the bathroom and entered her room when she stopped.

A box sat open on her bed, sheer chiffon spilling around its edges. Two tiny swimsuits lay on top. They looked more like lingerie than clothing.

Jalene lifted one piece with unsteady fingers. The top was nothing but two glittering triangles held together with thin strings. The bottoms were even smaller, a scrap of fabric with strings meant to vanish into curves.

At least it came with a cover.

Putting it on was easy. Keeping herself covered was not. The top just barely shielded her nipples, leaving the rest of her breasts spilling out heavy and obscene. The bottoms were a cruel joke. The triangle barely hid her freshly waxed slit, the back string lost between her ass cheeks. The high cut made her hips look wider, her waist narrower, her whole body impossible to ignore.

She turned in front of the mirror, tugging at the strings. Futile. This suit was made to expose her. The reflection that stared back was thick, toned, and nearly naked. Heat stirred in her belly as she imagined the eyes that would feast on her, hungry, shameless.

Her breath hitched. She yanked the chiffon cover on, clutching it tight, and stepped out of her room.

Marcus was waiting.

He lounged in a chair, pen glowing between his fingers, smoke curling lazily from his lips. His lashes lifted, slow, and his gaze began its descent.

It crawled over her body, dragging, lingering, a touch without touching. Every inch of exposed skin was claimed by those green eyes. Smoke trailed from his nose as he looked her over like she had already been undressed twice.

When his gaze locked on hers again, it pinned her. Her lips parted, breath catching. The way he looked at her told her exactly what he wanted to do.

She was still frozen when the door swung open. Cole walked in, stopped, and gave a low whistle.

Warmth flooded her body. She tried for a smile but it came out shy, nervous.

Cole crossed the room in three strides. His hands gripped her hips, yanking her flush against him, mouth devouring hers in a kiss that stole her balance. She gasped into him, body softening—and her eyes darted toward Marcus.

He was still watching. Unmoving. But the heat in his eyes grew darker, heavier. He stubbed out his pen and rose, his slow approach making her knees weak.

Cole’s kiss deepened, messy and greedy. Marcus’ hands brushed the chiffon from her shoulders, sliding down her body as he circled behind her. His palms cupped her ass before his mouth followed—firm kisses, then the slow drag of his tongue against her skin.

Her moan spilled into Cole’s mouth.

Marcus’ tongue slid higher, finding her slick folds, deliberate and unhurried. Cole swallowed every broken sound she made as his own hands kneaded her ass, holding her open for Marcus.

Two men. Two rhythms. One fast and devouring, one slow and merciless. She was trapped between them, her body a battlefield of sensation.

Her thighs trembled. Cole pinned her steady while Marcus’ tongue pressed deeper, slow circles that made her vision blur. The coil inside her snapped, climax tearing through her as she cried into Cole’s mouth.

And then—

“What the entire fuck?”

Damian’s voice cracked like thunder.

Marcus did not rush. He lifted his mouth from her, wiped it on the back of her thigh, and stood. He gave Damian a curt nod, almost casual, before walking out toward the party.

Cole steadied her, gave her one last squeeze, then followed.

Jalene was left trembling, wide-eyed, under Damian’s stare.

His lip curled. “Did I pay you to be a whore for my friends, Jalene?”

The word hit like a slap.

“I’m not a whore.” The protest ripped out of her throat before she could stop it.

His grin spread slow and cruel. He lunged forward, hand wrapping her throat, fingers digging in as he dragged her close. “If I say you’re a whore, then that’s what you are.”

He shoved her back, eyes raking her body. “Take it off.”

She hesitated.

“Take it off before I rip it off you.”

Her hands shook as she peeled the chiffon away. One nipple slipped free. She reached to cover it, but he slapped her hand aside. His fingers pinched, hard enough to make her cry out, before tucking it back roughly.

“Go.” His voice was a growl of command. “Join the party, little slut.”

Her knees wobbled as she obeyed, one hot tear sliding down her thigh.