One Night With My Billionaire Boss

~ (Lilian's POV) ~ The first sound I heard was that of the ignition going off, then heavy footsteps followed. I knew that in a couple of minutes, he'd walk in reeking of expensive liquor. His tone would be rough and harsh. So, I waited by the door to welcome him in, offer him help to his room, if need be. As I predicted, soon, there was a sharp knock on the door. I opened to see Mr. Orlando, but he wasn't drunk this time, only grumpy. “Good evening, sir,” my voice croaked. “Hey, Lilian. Is Paris around?” “No, sir,” I replied, retrieving his briefcase. After which, I went back to my room. Mr. Orlando Steele, 27 years old, billionaire, handsome, unhappily married and loved by his maid - which is me, in case you're asking. What was not to love about him? He smelt of mint and old spices on the days he didn't drink; he was very tall - almost brooding, well-built with a ridiculously good-looking face. Here I was, nineteen years old, orphaned, but still I couldn't get him out of my mind. I brought out the photo of him hidden under my drawer. This was what I did on some days, reach orgasm with his face in my mind. I pulled off my maid clothes, socks and shoes as well. I stared at my naked reflection in the mirror. I knew I was beautiful. A lot of men have told me so. They've gawked at my round bosom, that was too huge for my age. I was thick in the right places, my hair was long, blonde and my face was innocent. This was what attracted the men most - my innocent, doe-eyed beauty. I retrieved the lingerie I'd saved so much to buy from my wardrobe. It was Victoria's Secret lingerie, and I needed it for what I was about to do. I wore the g-string panties and the net bikini that barely covered my boobs. I stared at myself through the reflecting glass, an erotic wash falling over me. I dusted my cheeks with powder and coated my lips in a bright red lipstick. Afterwards, I walked into my bedroom, the picture of Orlando still in my hand. I'd have fun with Orlando Steele, with or without his permission. I brought out my 10-inches electric dildo and carefully inserted it in me after lubrication. In a few minutes, I was moaning loudly, the picture of a smiling Orlando staring back at me from the frame. Just when I was about to c*m, the dildo vibrated off. “s**t!” I hadn't charged it! I groaned in frustration as I rushed to plug it in the electric socket. I was soaking wet by now. I impatiently waited for it to charge. I was toying with the idea of inserting it in me while still charging, but even I knew that was dangerous. I shifted from one foot to the other, too wound up to stand still, as I stared at the slow blinking of the charger. Finally, when it charged sufficiently, I turned to go finish up with the dildo in my hands. To my greatest shock, I was met with the face of Orlando Steele - this time, in person. He was standing by my ajar doors, shirtless, save for the grey sweatpants he wore. “S-sir,” I stuttered, my heart beating fearfully in my chest. How did he come in without me noticing? I screamed internally. Suddenly feeling self conscious, I hurriedly covered my body with the duvet, still shaking from nerves. The look on his face as he glanced at me, from the photo of him on my bed to the dildo in my hands, told me he knew it all. “I'm so sorry sir, I w-wasn't…” I stammered. His eyes glazed over me, hunger and darkness feeling them. His voice drew out like liquid honey. “Lilian, I heard you moan my name like I was the last drop of water in a desert.” “I'm sorry, Mr. Orlando, I didn't mean to.” I bent my head and diverted my eyes as embarrassment washed over me. “It's Orlando.” He moved closer to me in slow, deliberate steps. His face was slightly amused. “You’d know that.” The scent of mint pervaded my nostrils. I finally looked up at him, and that was when I spotted the growing protrusion through his sweatpants. He walked even closer to me, his stride like a cat's. His long torso was tattooed, muscled, taut. Dangerously edible. I sucked in a ragged breath to stop myself from drooling. His hands finally met my skin, sending a jolt of electric shock through me. He pulled off the duvet I'd used as a body cover. It landed on the ground with a soft thud. His eyes devoured my now exposed body as mine devoured his. My heart was beating erratically in my chest. “Sir, I-” “Shh,” he placed his thumb on my lips, silencing me. Then he rubbed his thumb on the sensitive skin of my lips. This sent a shiver down my spine. “Open your mouth,” His voice was deep and low. I obeyed. He dug through my lips with his thumb, inserting it in my mouth, burying it in. It was such a simple gesture, but yet, my p***y throbbed with excitement. “Suck it.” He commanded. I did, instantly tasting the salty sweetness of his thumb of my billionaire boss. I'd never been this close to him before, not like this, at least. The fear and realisation of what I was about to do slowly hit me. What was I even doing? “Sir, I'm just your maid, and I'm nineteen.” I managed to speak through the thumb in my mouth. He removed his finger that was coated with saliva. He smelt it and licked it. “Smells clean. Tastes delicious.” “I don't care if you're my f*****g driver.” His eyes fanned over me. “And you want this, don't you?” I stared at him, trying to speak, but a tight lump rose in my throat, trapping the words.