Six:

I perk up as the door opens and closes in the bedroom, turn off the water in the bathroom and wrap myself in the robe. The small digital clock—and the only luxury this man has allowed me—reads ten to midnight. He is late, but I have already waited this long, and the important thing is that he is finally here.

Escaping can wait...right now, all I can think about is his cock. My heart drops when I walk into the bedroom and see that it is just a maid changing the sheets.

She bows when she turns around and sees me, and I just stare at her awkwardly, not sure what to say to her.

"Rise?" I say more as a question than a statement, and immediately, she straightens and her small frame resumes darting around the bed, putting new sheets over the mattress.

"Oh no, miss. I can manage by myself," she says when I go over to help her, and I smile.

"It's okay. I want to help," I reply, but she looks hesitant.

"It's better that you don't...Mr. Damon doesn't like it. I've been doing this for a while now...I don't mind it," she insists, and I relent.

"You work for Damon?" I ask stupidly—she is here making his bed, after all—stepping out of the way as she zips past me and starts to fluff pillows.

"I worked for his mother first, and he kept me after she left," she says, and has a faraway look in her eyes.

"What is your name?"

"Tatiana, mam," comes her reply, almost mechanically.

"And this is his house?"

She looks at me with her eyes narrowed. "As far as I know."

"What does he do for work, though? I mean, to be able to afford this..." I stop mid sentence, waving my hand across the room, and walk over to the window.

We are pretty high up, but not high enough to be in an apartment complex, because I can see the roof. The backyard is large and green, with a pool, a garden, and a bar, and the house itself is big enough to get lost in.

I turn back to the maid, and her smile is tight lipped now.

"I'm sorry, as you can understand, he cannot possibly discuss that with me, a mere help," she says, and goes back to her work.

An idea forms in my mind. This woman could be my ticket to getting out of here.

"How would you like to not be that anymore?" I ask, hurling myself across the room and taking her hands in mine.

The smile completely disappears from her face, and she fixes me with a curious expression. I nod, and smile.

"My father... he's in the mafia, and he has a lot of money. I could pay you any amount you choose, anything you want, as long as you help me get out of here," I whisper, and fold my hands over hers. She does not say anything, so I drop to my knees in front of her.

"Please," I beg, working tears into my voice. "I miss my family, and your boss, he only sees me as a cheap sex doll. He uses me, and he is rough with me. You're a woman, right? Put yourself in my shoes. Think if it was your daughter."

Her eyes remain stone cold, but she strokes my hair pitifully. "Oh miss, I promise you. It's better for both of us that I don't help you, or we shall both end up dead and in a gutter somewhere. Stop even thinking about it, because Damon, he is a man of little control."

With that, she gathers the dirty laundry off the floor, bundles it up in her arms and hurries out of the room. Moments later, she returns with some food, casts me another pitiful glance and then runs back out. When I go to check the door, it is locked.

Even if I had another key card, it definitely would not work on these heavy double doors. Damon moved me to the master bedroom after I tried to escape last night, and took my dress and underwear from me, that pervert.

I sit down and push the rice and chicken breast around on my plate. It looks and smells delicious, but I don't want to eat it. Mostly because rice is full of carbs, but also because all I want right now is Damon.

I have not been able to stop fantasizing about what he is going to do to me tonight ever since he said it this morning. I sip slowly on the juice as the minutes tick by, slowly getting more and more tired and agitated.

Energy surges through me every time I hear footsteps come in this direction, but none of them turns out to be Damon. At one in the morning, I am angry enough to think straight and finally drag my tired ass to bed.

He is probably out with a real stripper right now, and I was not raised to wait up for anyone's sloppy seconds. I toss and turn in the large bed, but no matter where I turn, his scent fills my nostrils with each breath. These are fucking fresh sheets, damnit.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, pulling the robe up and bundling it at my waist.

I spread my legs, and the warm night air caresses between my thighs, making me sensitive before I even touch myself.

Slowly, almost cautiously, I bring my fingers down to my folds. I close my eyes and picture those dark eyes, his lips, parted in that sexy way they do right before he cums, his chest rising and falling with each thrust, his large, calloused palms grabbing my hips as he buries himself further and further inside me.

It feels nothing like when he does it—infact, it feels like my acrylics are clawing at my insides—but fuck, it is sweet relief from the arousal of thinking about him all day.

I rub my other palm over my clit, the friction causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head and loud, erratic moans to spill from between my lips.

A couple of strokes later, my legs tremble and my body spasms as my orgasm comes. I lie in the dark room, catching my breath, and the silk robe sticks to my wet skin.

Tatiana is going to be so pissed when she has to change the sheets again tomorrow.