Maid for the Hitman: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance by Flora Ferrari (lightweight ebook reader txt) 📗

First, there was the order to kill Rosie, and then there was the moving-in. Afterward, I called Vito and told him I’d taken care of them.

“Them?” he said.

“The mother and the girl,” I told him. “They’ve taken a long holiday.”

“Fuck, Ryland,” he said. “That’s cold. Good work.”

I hung up, disgusted, squeezing the phone so hard I felt like it was going to shatter.

Good work for, as far as he knows, killing a mother and her child.

Killing my goddamn woman.

The man’s deranged.

After the call, I arranged for my staff to receive large lump payments to tide them over while I deal with this mess. Then, once that was all sorted, I brought in a discreet nurse to take care of Jackie.

Now, I read, because reading about battles and blood and war is one of the reasons I’ve been able to survive this life for so long.

But I can’t stop thinking about Rosie, lying in her silk sheets, maybe wearing nothing but her underwear.

I can’t stop thinking about her thick, luscious thighs and the way she’d shiver as I run my hands up toward her sex.

I leap up when I hear someone in the hallway, heading for the library door. Even across the vastness of the room, I can sense somebody approaching. Awareness has been trained into me through decades of wet work.

Rosie appears at the doorway, wearing a baggy T-shirt that nonetheless outlines the captivating shape of her. She’s tied her auburn hair back in a messy ponytail, strands spiraling around her flushed face.

Her wide childrearing hips are squashed into pajama bottoms, round and captivating.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, her voice echoing over the cavernous room. “I just wanted to explore a little bit.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. My chest tight.

My soul aches, even if I didn’t realize I had one until earlier today.

“This place is amazing, Ryland,” she murmurs, taking a few tentative steps as she gazes up at the half-sphere ceiling. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t expect… sorry.”

“What?” I smirk, swaggering across the marble floor to her.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze, as a delicious blush captivates her cheeks.

“I was about to be rude, but I stopped myself.”

“You didn’t expect a big lumbering oaf like me to have a library,” I say, smirking as I walk right up to her, close enough to scent her shampoo and her just-Rosie smell.

“I wasn’t going to put it like that,” she says.

I wave a hand. “Have a look around. But first…”

I should stop myself. Things are complicated enough as it is, with worrying about what I’m going to do with her in the long term. I’ve been pondering the problem a lot today, and the only reasonable solution is to move her and her mother overseas with new identities.

I shouldn’t let myself get attached.

I should stop.

But I can’t.

It’s already too late. I’m already attached.

“First what?” she murmurs, staring wide-eyed up at me.

“We have to get you into your uniform,” I growl. “Or have you forgotten? You’re not staying here for free, Rosie. You’re my maid.”

She swallows, making a whimpering noise.

“Are you making fun of me?” she asks plainly.

“No,” I growl. “I’d never make fun of you. Now shut that pretty mouth and go and get changed. I’ve left it at the bottom of your wardrobe.”

She flinches, her eyes getting somehow wider, staring at me as though she can’t believe what I’ve just said.

Is it my bluntness that shocks her, or the fact I called her pretty?

“Are you serious?” she whispers.

I take another step forward, feeling my rock solid manhood press against her, staring down at her with a song of lust pulsing in my head.

“Yes, I’m fucking serious,” I snarl. “You’re my maid. Now do what you’re told.”

She bites her lip, her eyes glimmering.

“I’m a little confused.”

“So am I,” I tell her. “Why are you still here?”

I grab her by the shoulders and turn her around, intending to give her a soft shove toward the door.

But then my gaze flits down to her ass, bulging in the light fabric of the pajama bottoms. Her ass is round and made to be spanked and palmed and pleased.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, stepping forward and leaning down so I can grind my trapped manhood against her.

She lets out a shivering moan, looking at me over her shoulder, pursing her lips like the horny minx she is.

“You want me,” she murmurs. “Like that? You really want me?”

“How couldn’t I want you?” I snap in disbelief. “Shift that ass for me, Rosie. Grind it. It feels so good against my big hard cock.”

She moves up and down slowly, shyly, as if she’s never done anything like this before.

This wasn’t part of the plan, but the sensation of those big juicy ass cheeks grinding against my dick is sending captivating signals deep inside of me, compelling, deafening, making it impossible for me to think about anything else.

I reach forward and take her hips, pulling her toward me, rocking with her movements.

“Fuck,” I snarl, staring down at the way her gorgeously thick ass shifts and trembles.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she moans, as I grind myself harder and firmer against her.

I growl savagely when I feel her body going tighter, as though the horny minx is on the verge of a sudden orgasm already. I smirk and slide my hands down her hips, around, smoothing toward her begging sex.

She moans and tosses her head, gazing at me with those wide, stunned eyes that drive me so goddamn crazy. It’s like she’s screaming at me to stop and to keep going all at once like she’s trapped between thinking this is a trick and knowing it can’t be.

It feels too perfect to be a trick.

“It’s happening, so accept it,” I growl, sliding my hand right up between her legs. “Grind against my hand, Rosie.”

“Seriously?” she moans.

“Seriously,” I snarl. “Do what you’re fucking told. I need to feel you come.”

“But why?” she whimpers, as I press my forefinger through the thin fabric of her pajama bottoms, feeling