Free I, Porn Star (I #1) by Zara Cox

speaking,
she reaches the table and starts to lay out my lunch in precise movements. I
scrutinize her body again as my cock wakes. Despite being on the thin side, her
proportions are flawless.
    Put simply, she’s
perfection wrapped in drab work clothes.
    Hell, even her
hands are delicate.
    I rise and return
to the front of my desk as she leans forward to place the last of the domed
dishes on the table.
    “It’s customary
to acknowledge the occupant of a room when you enter,” I murmur.
    She stiffens,
turns and grabs hold of the trolley handle. Our eyes meet for a charged second
before she looks away. “I’m not normally that rude.”
    “But?”
    Her face pinches.
“The chef…he briefed me on how you like things.”
    “I sincerely
doubt he has the first idea of how I like things . But please, enlighten
me.”
    Her gaze meets mine,
again for a furtive second, then darts away. I want to be irritated by that.
But I know what she sees when she looks in my eyes. I know what everyone sees.
So I let her get away with it.
    “You don’t like
being engaged in conversation. You don’t like the noise of cutlery. And you
like your dishes to be laid out in precise angles.”
    “Lord,” I murmur.
“You must think I’m a freak…?” I raise an eyebrow.
    “Elly,” she
supplies, her voice a touch on the husky side.
    “Tell me, Elly,
do I look like a freak to you?”
    Her breath
catches. The sound is faint, strangled at the last moment, but her gaze returns
to my face. I’ve given her permission, and she takes her time to drink me in.
The tinge to her cheeks is evidence that she likes what she sees.
    My cock thickens.
I cross my legs at the ankles, which draws her gaze lower. Her eyes widen on my
crotch and she blinks before averting her gaze once more.
    “Umm, no, you’re
not a freak.”
    “Thank you.” I
straighten and approach the dining table. Her fingers tighten on the trolley,
but she doesn’t move away. I reach her and slowly inhale.
    No perfume. No
expensive shampoo or cosmetics. Just cheap soap. And yet, I want to rip the
uniform from her body, lay her bare on my dining table and devour her instead
of the food.
    Perhaps she
senses my forming intentions. She takes a few steps to the side, dragging the
trolley behind her. When she continues her retreat, I pause in the act of
pulling out a chair.
    “Where are you
going?”
    This time when
her eyes meet mine, they stay for more than a second. “Back to the restaurant.”
    “No. You’ll wait
until I’ve finished. Then you’ll clear up. I can’t abide the lingering smell
once I’m done eating.”
    She seems caught
between mutiny and surrender.
    “Is it a problem,
Elly?”
    She shakes her
head. “No. But I don’t want the chef thinking I’ve skived off.”
    “Are you in the
habit of doing that?”
    An affronted
frown unleashes before she visibly reels it back. “Of course not. But he’s a
bit…temperamental.”
    “Is he?”
    She grimaces.
“Please don’t tell him I said that.”
    “I won’t. It’ll
be our little secret. Let go of the trolley and come here, Elly.”
    I walk to the
opposite end of the table and wait. Her movements are slow but she obeys. When
she reaches me, I pull out the chair.
    “Sit.”
    Her head tilts
back, and I catch the hint of the rebellion I’ve seen in Lucky’s eyes. But too
soon, secrets and trepidation overcome rebellious fire. She lowers her head and
slides into the seat.
    “Have you eaten?”
    I know the answer
to that, but I wait for her to tell me.
    “Yes.”
    “Would you like
something more?”
    She shakes her
head. “No, thanks.”
    I take my place
and unveil the first dish. And then in silence, I polish off an excellent chateaubriand .

8

 
    TRANSITION

 
    “ Are
you out of your goddammed mind? ”
    I calmly hand my
coat to Felix, my father’s grey-haired, unflappable butler, brush the specks of
rain from my hair and straighten my cuffed sleeves. “Good evening, Dad. How was
your trip to