Maid For Daddies.

Chapter 13

Billie.

I shifted, searching for an opening. Some fraction of a second where his guard might drop. My palms were slick with sweat. His stance was loose but perfect, eyes tracking every micro-movement.

My mind raced, frantically. He’s strong and tough. But he’s still a man.. and every man has a weakness.

I remembered the living room earlier. His gaze had lingered on the slip of my top for a second. An idea clicked.

I took a slow deep breath, reached up and gathered the loose strands into a messy bun. The motion pulled the neckline of my sweater sideways, loosening the fabric. The soft wool slipped off one shoulder, sliding down to expose the smooth dip of my collarbone, the gentle line of my neck, the skin where shoulder met throat.

I saw a subtle shift in his eyes.

A flicker downward, away from my face, toward the newly bared skin. Just for a heartbeat. That was my opening.

I stretched my arms out in front, fists up mimicking something I’d seen in movies. Then intentionally let my weight shift backward, like I was off-balance about to stumble.

The sweater dropped further on that side, the fabric pooling at my elbow, exposing more of my shoulder, more of my neck.

His eyes dipped, a split-second distraction.

I lunged. Right fist forward, aiming for his cheek.

Smack! It connected.

Pain exploded through my hand, like I’d punched a wall. His face was harder than I’d expected.

I winced, shaking out my fingers. Law’s head barely moved. He slowly lifted a hand to his cheek, touched the spot where my knuckles had struck.

Leon’s brows rose higher. Silas let out a low, impressed whistle.

“I landed it,” I said, voice shaking.

“So you did.”Law said.

He stepped back, giving me space.

“Ask your question,” Leon said.

I swallowed and pulled my sweater back into place.

“What is Molly meant for,” I asked, “and who is it for?”

Leon tilted his head slightly. “One question, Billie.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

“What is Molly meant for?”

The three of them exchanged a brief glance that said they'd already decided how much to give.

“Discipline.”Leon said.

“Pleasure.”Silas added.

“Endurance.”Law completed.

The words settled over me like three separate keys turning in the same lock.

It made perfect sense. Discipline to keep someone in line, pleasure to make the lesson feel good and endurance to see how much they could take before they broke…or didn’t.

I opened my mouth, another question already forming—

“That’s your one,” Silas said, standing up. “Time for bed, maid. Go rest that hand.”

I hesitated. Looked at Law again he hadn’t moved, arms still folded, watching me with that same steady, unblinking gaze. Then at Leon, who gave the smallest nod of dismissal.

I turned and walked out. Once I laid on my bed. I grinned from ear to ear.

I’d landed one clean blow on an MMA champion.

My hand throbbed when I flexed it, knuckles red and tender, but the pain felt good.

~~~~~~~~~~

The driveway was empty when I peeked through the hallway window. The coffee pot was empty in the kitchen; they’d left early.

I was alone, yes!

I grabbed the laundry basket and headed upstairs. I'll start with Leon’s room. I pushed the door open with my hip, basket balanced on one arm.

The curtains were still drawn blocking most of the morning light. The bed was a dark shape in the center. I set the basket down, crossed to the window to pull the curtains back, then turned toward the bed to strip the sheets.

And froze.

Leon was still there shirtless, lying on his back, one arm flung above his head, the other resting low across his stomach. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, low enough that the deep V of muscle disappeared beneath it.

He had tattoos of thorny vines, intricate crosses and ravens curling over his chest, ribs, down his sides, stopping just above the waistband of whatever he was (or wasn’t) wearing under there. The same viper tattoo Silas and Law had coiled low on his abdomen, tail vanishing beneath the sheet.

My eyes unintentionally drifted lower.

The outline was unmistakable, it was thick forming a small tent. Morning wood, or maybe just… guy fantasies.

My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the gasp. Brian's d**k wasn't anywhere close to that.

“It’s just the damnest thing,” I muttered under my breath,“if I wasn’t looking right at it—”

Leon’s eyes opened and landed directly on me.

I had a feeling he’d been awake the whole time and waiting for me to notice.

I froze, hand still pressed to my lips.

He propped himself up on one elbow, sheet sliding another dangerous inch lower. The tattoos shifted with the movement of his muscle .

“Enjoying the view, little thief?”

I looked away fast. My eyes darting to the curtains, the dresser, anywhere but him.

“I—I thought you left,” I stammered. “The cars were gone. The coffee was empty. I was just—”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed in one smooth motion. The sheet stayed dangerously low, clinging to his hips by sheer stubbornness. I spun around.

Behind me, I heard the rustle of fabric—him standing, probably reaching for something on the nightstand.

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying what I'd just seen.

“Next time,” he said, voice closer now, “knock louder. Or don’t. I don’t mind the audience.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, mortified.

Then I heard the soft thud of a drawer closing.

I still didn’t turn around. I swallowed hard.

“Sheets,” I managed. “I’ll… come back later.”

He let out a sign.

“No need to run,” he said. “I’m decent now.”

I risked a glance over my shoulder.

He was pulling on a black shirt, buttons half-done. Hair still sleep-mussed.

I turned fully, basket clutched tight, and backed toward the door.

“I’ll be quick,” I mumbled. “When you’re… done.”

“Take your time, Billie.”He whis

pered.

I fled. The door clicked shut behind me.

I leaned against the wall for a second, breathing hard, hand pressed to my chest.