Free Forbidden Heat by Opal Carew

curtsied again, then turned around and crossed to the stainless-steel stove, where he saw she had a large glass casserole dish with a lid sitting on the glossy black cooking surface. She opened the oven and leaned forward to put the casserole inside. As her skirt tipped upward, revealing more of her upper thighs, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sending the lacy skirt bouncing slightly. As she leaned further still, her skirt bounced upward to reveal . . . lovely, creamy round mounds framing a narrow black triangle of silk between. He almost groaned. She was wearing a black thong . . . under that short, enticing skirt. Now as she moved around, he’d be constantly anticipating a glimpse of her sexy derriere. It would be sheer torment. And he was looking forward to every second of it.
    She stood up and closed the oven door, then turned around and faced him. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Master Jamieson?”
    “Uh . . . yes, Dani, would you check that bottom drawer for my . . . uh, car keys.”
    It was all he could think of in his current befuddled state, but she smiled and curtsied.
    “Of course, Master Jamieson.”
    She turned around and leaned over, revealing even more delightful derriere as she bent at the waist, then shifted back and forth a little, sending her skirt bouncing as she scoured that drawer, sifting through the towels for the nonexistent car keys. His cock swelled at the sight of her naked behind framed by that bouncing white lace and black overskirt.
    Finally, she stood up and turned to face him. Satisfaction gleamed in her emerald eyes at his intense gaze. “Sorry, sir, they don’t seem to be there.”
    “Ah, then maybe you could check the top cupboard.” He pointed at the glass-doored cupboard over the sink.
    She opened the door and stretched upward. The movement caused her skirt to shift upward, revealing more creamy thigh. Finally, she grabbed a box from the top shelf and pulled it down. She turned and walked toward him, a sexy sway to her hips.
    “Sorry, sir. No keys.” She handed him the box and he saw they were cookies.
    “Why did you give me these?” he asked.
    “Because I thought you might like something sweet.” As she stared at him, she licked her lips. She stood a mere foot from him. Too far away.
    He thumped the cookies down on the counter, his hormones thrumming through him.
    He stood up. She shifted a little, but their bodies nearly touched.
    “I would like something sweet, but not cookies.”
    She stared up at him, anticipation glimmering in her eyes, obviously waiting for a kiss, but instead, he pushed the box of cookies back into her hand.
    “Put these away . . . there.” He pointed to the bottom cupboard and followed her across the kitchen. When she leaned over to place the box away, his hand stroked up the back of her thigh, then under her skirt and over her round, firm flesh.
    “You have a lovely ass, Dani.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    He stroked her several more times, then wrapped his hands around her waist and stroked upward until just under her breasts, then drew her up from her bent position. His hands cupped her full breasts. They filled his palms, the nipples jutting forward into his hold. He drew her back against his chest as he gently squeezed and stroked those lovely breasts. She rested her head against his shoulder and the delightful scent of her mango shampoo filled his nostrils. He breathed in, savoring the sweetness, then nuzzled her temple. Her soft auburn curls caressed his cheek.
    “You’re incredibly beautiful, Dani.”
    “Thank you, Master Jamieson.”
    He turned her around and smiled as she gazed up at him with glittering green eyes. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her. The delicate feel of her lips on his was sweet and sensuous, then turned more passionate as her tongue stroked along his lips, then dove inside with enthusiasm. He stroked her tongue, then drew it deeper into his mouth. Her lips moved on his with an