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love."

He dropped to his knees between her spread thighs.

The first taste of her exploded across his tongue, salty-sweet, musky, unmistakably Elena. She was drenched; arousal coated her inner thighs in a glossy sheen. He hooked her long legs over his shoulders, palms sliding up the backs of her thighs to grip her ass and tilt her higher. Then he buried his face in her.

Long, slow licks from her entrance to her clit. He sucked the swollen bud between his lips, flicked his tongue in merciless little circles while two fingers plunged deep, curling hard against that textured front wall. Elena's back bowed off the mattress; her accented moans spilled out like honey, thicker, huskier with every pass of his tongue.

"Oh fuck... yes... right there... Daniel... "

She came fast, violently, her thighs clamping around his ears, hips bucking, a sharp, keening cry tearing from her throat as she pulsed against his mouth. Hot wetness flooded his tongue; he drank every drop, humming approval into her flesh until she shuddered through the last ripple.

He didn't give her time to catch her breath.

He flipped her onto her stomach, dragged her hips up so her knees sank into the mattress, ass presented like an offering. Clothes shed in frantic seconds, his lounge pants kicked away, cock springing free, still faintly flushed and marked from Layla's mouth earlier. The sight of Elena like this, her back arched, dark hair spilling across pale shoulders, cunt glistening and open. Snapped something primal in him.

He teased her entrance with the broad head, painting himself in her slickness, then drove in one long, ruthless stroke.

Elena gasped, half-shocked, half-blissful. Pushing back to meet him, taking him deeper. "Harder," she demanded, voice breaking into a whimper. "Give it to me, Daniel, fuck me like you mean it."

He did.

Hands bruising her hips, he pounded into her deep, punishing snaps of his hips that made her breasts swing beneath her, made the headboard thud rhythmically against the wall. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, underscored by her throaty moans and his low grunts. She felt like heaven, tight and scalding, rippling around his girth with every retreat. He reached beneath her, found her clit, and rubbed tight circles until she shattered again. Muffling a scream into the pillow, walls clamping so hard that it dragged his own release from him. He came with a guttural groan of her name, hips jerking as he flooded her in thick, hot pulses.

They collapsed in a sweaty tangle.

But the fire didn't die.

Minutes later, lazy open-mouthed kisses, her swollen lips tasting of him now. He rolled her onto her side, spooned tight behind her. He lifted her top leg over his thigh, slid back inside with agonizing slowness. The angle was devastating; he could feel every flutter, every quiver as he rocked deep, grinding against her cervix on every forward roll. His hand roamed, tweaking a nipple until she hissed, tracing the soft plane of her stomach, dipping lower to circle her clit again.

Elena turned her head and captured his mouth in a sloppy, desperate kiss. "Don't stop, darling... feels so fucking good..."

He didn't.

Midnight passed in a haze of positions: her straddling him on the edge of the bed, rolling her hips in that slow, captivating rhythm that made her breasts bounce, and her accent thicken with every downward grind. He sucked bruises into the underside of one breast while she rode him to two shattering climaxes. Once slow and rolling, the next frantic and slamming her, releasing soaking his lap, dripping onto the sheets. On her third, he thrust up hard, roaring as he came again, filling her until it leaked out around his base.

Later, against the wall, her legs locked around his waist, his powerful frame pinning her effortlessly as he drove short, brutal strokes into her dripping cunt. Then on the floor, missionary, wrists pinned above her head, her nails carving red trails down his back as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her.

By the time the first gray light of dawn seeped through the curtains, they were wrecked, their bodies gleaming with sweat, sheets twisted and damp, air thick with the raw scent of sex: musk, salt, her perfume, his cedar cologne, the sharp tang of multiple releases mingling on skin and linens.

They lay tangled, breathing finally slowing. Elena traced idle patterns across his chest with one fingertip, following the dark trail of hair downward. Her voice came soft, still husky from hours of crying out, the accent wrapping every syllable like velvet.

"Whatever or whoever sparked this fire in you tonight..." She paused, letting the words hang. Her fingertip circled one flat nipple, teasing it to a peak. "...you should keep her around."

Daniel's heart stuttered. He kept his breathing even, but his hand stilled where it had been stroking her hip.

Elena lifted her head, resting her chin on his sternum so she could look directly into his eyes. That sultry smile curved her lips slowly, knowing, utterly without judgment.

"The new maid," she murmured. "Layla, is her name, isn't it?" She let the name linger, tasting it. "She's... exactly what this house has been missing. What we've been missing."

His throat worked. No denial rose. None would have been believable anyway.

Elena's smile deepened, soft and wicked and tender all at once. She leaned up, brushed a slow, open-mouthed kiss along his jaw.

"I've always known you have appetites, darling," she whispered against his skin. "And I've never minded sharing... especially when it means we finally get to expand the family the way we've talked about for years." Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingers curling loosely around his softening cock, still slick with both of them. She gave a gentle squeeze. "She's young. Fertile. Beautiful. And clearly very... dedicated to her work."

Daniel exhaled a rough, shuddering sound.

Elena kissed him then, slow, deep, tasting like forgiveness and hunger in equal measure.

"So keep her," she breathed against his lips. "Keep her close. Let her help us make this house... fuller."

She settled back against his chest, one leg draped possessively over his, her hand still loosely cradling him.

"After all," she added, voice dropping to a velvet whisper, "a good maid takes care of every need... doesn't she?"

Daniel closed his eyes, pulled her tighter against him, and for the first time in hours, he felt something like peace settle over the wreckage of their bodies.

Dawn crept higher.

The house exhaled.

And somewhere down the hall, in the guest wing, Layla was unaware, for now, that the storm had only just begun.

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